VANESSA

Glancing at my watch for the third time since being seated in an intimate corner of the restaurant, I mentally curse my best friend, Jenny, who somehow roped me into this blind date.

Okay, fine, that's not entirely true. But in my defense, I was not thinking clearly and I'm certain she took advantage of that particular fact. Reeling from the excitement of sharing the news of my recent promotion, she pounced on my euphoric state, and sweet-talked me into meeting up with Jason's—her husband—cousin.

And he's late.

My idea of celebrating my new position this weekend involved opening a bottle of my favorite Rosé wine, after giving myself a pedicure and slipping my feet into my favorite fuzzy socks, watching mind-numbing trashy TV. But no, instead I'm sitting alone in a fancy restaurant, tugging on the hem of the leather wrapped skirt I bought on a whim, knowing full well I would never wear it. And yet, I am, in an attempt to let my hair down and live it up as Jenny urged while I was getting ready.

Ten minutes. He gets ten more minutes and then I'm calling it. I'll still have time to open a bottle of wine at home and catch up on the latest episode of The Bachelor.

Scanning the room, I decide to kill time by fabricating stories about the strangers around me. People watching—I could do it for hours if it didn't make me look like a creeper, but I like to think I've mastered covertness after years of practice.

Let's see...Ah, yes, the classic scenario. Zeroing in on the young couple sitting across the room, they lean in toward each other. Their eye contact is intimate and unbreakable, they're in their own world, their own little love bubble.

Lover's reunited, after her controlling parents kept them apart and now they vow to never be away from one another.

To my surprise the guy stands and my mouth drops when he kneels down, extracting a small black velvet box from his breast pocket. The young woman's hands cover her mouth, but her surprised gasp still reaches me.

Bouncing in her seat, she shakes her head vigorously, with tears brimming she exclaims "Yes!" and her betrothed slips a ring over her finger. The light catches the gleam of the massive rock adorning her hand. A passionate kiss follows as they embrace and the ripples of applause erupt around them and I find myself joining in.

Well, that was better than the scenario I was conjuring. Observing the happy couple wistfully, I can't help but wonder if that will be my future someday. Not that I'm not content with my life, on the contrary. Things are good. Great, even.

My career has been my focus from the moment I was hired as a leasing agent straight out of high school and worked my way through college, earning a Bachelor's degree in business administration with a minor in real estate. And now I'm reaping the fruits of my labor with my recent advancement.

Workaholic. I've been described as such more than a couple of times in past relationships, the most recent being—holy crap, it's been two years since I've been with a man. Perhaps that will change tonight, if my date ever shows up; not that I would sleep with someone on the first date though. To each their own, but that's not my thing.

Calling over a waiter, I request a drink. Down to six minutes. My eyes survey the room again, including the patrons within it. My mind plays out the scenarios in rapid succession: spies meeting incognito, shopaholic intervention, secret lovers, girls night out, getting over a breakup, about to break up.

My eyes skim over a dark pair of eyes staring back at me.

Wait. Back up.

Assuming I'm mistaken, I glance away but can't resist looking again. A couple of men are on either side of the attractive man, but they're laughing at whatever their conversation entails, only he's not joining in.

He is most definitely staring. At me.

The waiter returns, breaking our staring contest, setting my bourbon down on the table. I lift the glass, swirling the amber liquid before bringing the cup to my lips. The warmth spreading throughout my face only enhances the embarrassment I felt seconds ago from getting caught. Setting the glass down, I raise my eyes to find him still watching me. The corner of his mouth lifts in a confident smirk and right then I know, he's trouble. Not the dangerous type, more like a mischievous player with a promise of heartbreak.

Fidgeting under his intense gaze, I lift my long, straight black hair over my shoulder and glance around the room, hoping to appear unflustered. This is karma, Vanessa. You're always staring at strangers and now you're on the receiving end.

And then a pair of red rimmed eyes interrupt my line of vision.

"Hi, I'm Cody, Jason's cousin. You must be Vanessa." His nervous smile and bloodshot eyes make me wonder if he's on something.

He holds his hand out and I begin to stand but he stops me. "No, please don't stand. It's bad enough I'm late. I'm sorry. I was a nervous mess getting ready and then I hit traffic on the way here." He plops down in the chair next to me instead of the one across and offers his hand again. I take it, immediately regretting it once the dampness of his hand soaks mine.

"It's nice to meet you, Cody," I tell him, releasing his sweaty hand and use the opportunity to place my napkin on my lap and wipe my hand under the table. "So...do you want to order now or—"

The choked sob coming from Cody startles me. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Picking up his cloth napkin, he dabs at his eyes and then unceremoniously blows his nose. What the? My eyes skirt around, catching curious stares from those sitting nearby and I feel compelled to comfort the sobbing man next to me.

Patting his back, I shush him while offering tightlipped smiles to our audience with a small shrug of my shoulders. Clearing my throat, I lean in whispering, "Are you okay?"

"No!" Another loud wail.

Retracting my hand, I yank the nearby waiter to our table. "Two more drinks please. And hurry." The waiter's eyes narrow on the blubbering man and nods his head, scurrying away. Never in a million years did I imagine this is how the date would be.

Blowing his nose on his napkin again, I reach for my purse, digging around until I find my pack of kleenex and slide it toward him. And then he proceeds to explain the reason behind his public breakdown.

"My fiancé and I broke up last month and I thought I was ready to do this, but the entire time I was getting ready I was thinking of her. God, I miss her." A shaky breath expels from him as he looks at me forlornly.

Wow.

Fifteen minutes later—and an empty bread basket that I had planned on avoiding tonight—he's still droning on about his amazing ex-fiancé and how he's certain I would get along with her if I had the pleasure of meeting her.

At least he's not crying anymore.

Would it be bad form if I excused myself to the restroom and left?

Who am I kidding? The guilt of just thinking it is already eating at me. I glance at the poor schmuck, still expressing his regrets about things left unsaid when our waiter approaches. I'm filled with dread, realizing we have yet to order and my night is nowhere near over.

"Miss, I'm sorry to disturb you, but do you drive a silver Honda?" The waiter's eyes shift to the emotional mess next to me, blowing his nose, and I catch the subtle wink he gives me.

Oh.

"Yes, yes, I do." Briefly shifting my eyes to Cody, he doesn't know what type of car I drive, but I'm not missing an opportunity to get out of this nightmare.

"I regret to inform you it's being towed for parking in a red zone."

Time to let my inner Meryl Streep out. "What?!" I gasp, clutching my chest. "This is outrageous! I didn't see any signs and the damn curb isn't marked!"

The waiter's eyes travel around the room after my sudden outburst. Too much, Vanessa.

"Cody, it was very nice meeting you, but I have to go. Good luck with...everything." Patting his shoulder out of sympathy, I place some cash on the table to cover our drinks, but mostly it's to ease my conscience and walk out of the restaurant, taking a deep breath of relief once I'm outside.

Never again. Jenny, you are so going to hear about this!

I pull my phone out to begin my angry rant text when a voice startles me from behind.

"You're welcome."

My mouth goes dry as I turn, facing the six foot something good-looking man with the intense eyes from earlier. His tailored navy suit hugs his fit frame and the crisp white button up shirt accents his tanned skin perfectly.

"I was afraid you wouldn't catch on, but I'm glad my initial assessment that you were bored out of your mind with your blubbering friend was correct; best fifty bucks I spent." His pink full lips quirk up in a grin.

Damn, that's a great smile.

I blink, snapping out of my stupor and straightening my posture; I'm not some doe eye'd school girl that swoons easily for soulful, rich brown eyes and a gorgeous face to match.

"What would you have done if I didn't go along with it?"

"Nothing." He shrugs. "If you had wanted to stay playing therapist, that's your prerogative. But I'm glad you didn't." He smiles once more. And there it is again, the tingling sensation that this handsome man is trouble washes over me.

"How about you join me for a drink since I saved you from dying of boredom tonight." The demand is subtle but it's there.

"Thanks, but I don't go out with strange men I don't know."

He nods, pulling in his bottom lip, taking a step closer to me. His dark eyes lower, showcasing his thick lashes before they rise and smolder with something different than amusement...something sensual. A gentle breeze carries his warm inviting scent to me. It's masculine and warm, with a hint of spice and a lot of warning, but I take a deep breath of him anyway.

"Would it help if I cried?"

A bubble of laughter spills out of me and his smile widens. "Just one drink. There's a great bar just around the corner."

The rational part of me is scolding me to go home. I've had enough excitement for one night, but the other part, the part that likes the way he's looking at me wants to give in. It's been a long time since anyone's looked at me like that and I forgot how good it feels.

He pulls a hand out of his pocket and the moonlight reflects off the coin resting on his palm. "Tell you what, we'll flip for it. Tails you go do whatever it is you do on weekends...heads you come with me for a drink and a promise of good time."

I don't bother stopping the uncivilized snort that comes out. "Please. Does this actually work for you?"

He chuckles, rubbing his other hand over the stubble peppering his prominent jawline. "I meant a promise of good conversation and no crying of any kind unless it's from laughing."

It's impossible to keep from smiling, but I shake my head. "I appreciate you coming to my rescue, but I've got a big week coming up; I should head home to plan out my schedule."

The corner of his mouth lifts. "I don't even know your name, but I do know it'd be a shame to let that skirt go to waste going home to plan out your week in it."

The chime from my phone saves me from not knowing how to respond to his flirtiness. Glancing at my phone, it's a text from Jenny asking how the date is going.

"Come on, I bet you look really good with your hair down."

My head snaps up, running a hand through my long tresses. "My hair is down."

He grins, lifting his eyes to the sky as his thumb flicks the coin high above us, but my eyes are only focused on him. I already know my answer, regardless of what it lands on.