Chapter One
Friday, May 6
Dallas
Kiera
“Maybe I could suddenly develop a case of leprosy?” I mutter to myself as I exit my little Honda and head toward the upscale Italian restaurant.
I wish. It’s a Friday night, and I promised my bestie I’d go on this blind date she arranged. I know exactly one fact about this guy. His name is Chris.
I’d rather be cozying up to a bottle of wine and watching a movie or two in my pajamas with my best friend and roommate, Kami. But no. I’m going out with a stranger where I’ll probably pass up booze so I can keep a clear head while resisting the urge to pull at my shape wear.
Ugh, why did I agree to this?
“Because you’re a sucker,” I mutter as I push my way inside the low-lit restaurant.
But that’s not true. I’m just a hopeless romantic. I should have outgrown that by now. I’m twenty-five, but I want to find my Prince Charming. Every day I don’t is another day I lose more hope.
Since I was a little girl, I’ve fantasized about happily ever after with my own real-life hero, like the swoon-worthy guy in movies. Where’s my Jake Ryan, just waiting to sweep me away from my crazy life in his hot red sports car? Why can’t I find my own Patrick Verona, a bad boy willing to make a fool of himself to apologize for being an asshole? Or Westley, who only ever saidAs you wish, which really meantI love you? Have all the Mr. Darcys disappeared, men unafraid to profess their undying devotion?
In the real world, I’ve only ever dated cowards, douches, and players.
Not for the first time, I seriously consider canceling on Chris because I know what’s likely to happen. It’s pretty much what goes down on every date. Either the guy stares at some other girl, ditches me in the middle of the evening, or hits me up for meaningless sex.
If it doesn’t work out, at least you tried. And hey, maybe you’ll get a free dinner, Kami rationalized when she talked me into this nonsense. My reason for coming was less about a complimentary meal and more about not sitting home alone with my cats.
Most of all, I have to stop fantasizing about my boss, the eminently hot and sadly all-business Jonathan Knight.
Once inside the restaurant Chris chose, I see I’m the first to arrive. As a hostess shows me to our table, I’m relieved I have more quiet time to mentally prepare.
The place looks both charming and nice, with crisp linen tablecloths and fancy plates. This is definitely an improvement over the last guy I went out with, who thought Taco Bell was an expensive dinner.
Maybe Chris will be different. Maybe he’ll be a good start to a bad stream of horrible dates.
It’s possible…but I won’t get my hopes up. Besides, first dates don’t seem to be a gateway to relationships anymore, but more like a free-trial-or-your-money-back kind of thing.
A few minutes later, a guy with dark, slicked-back hair and a gray suit walks in. He’s average height with a slight build. As he approaches, he smiles, hand outstretched. “You must be Kiera. I’m Chris. My friend Adam met your friend Kami a few nights ago. Wow, you look great.”
I stand to shake his hand. He clasps my fingers and kisses the top. As gestures go, it’s romantic…if a little flustering.
“Thanks.” I smile back. “Nice to meet you. I’m so glad you’re obviously not a jock.”
Damn, that came out wrong. I try not to wince.
He doesn’t seem to hear me. He’s too busy scanning my body from the top of my chocolate brown hair, down the blue, knee-length dress that clings to my waist, to the black kitten heels on my feet. His stare lingers longer than necessary. I squirm in my seat.
He sits across from me at the small, round table. Appetizers are quick to arrive, and we begin talking.
“I almost didn’t make it tonight. My job consumes my life. I expected that, being the right hand to one of the top commercial real estate brokers in the country, but I’ve become so integral to his business that he almost can’t function without me.” His laugh is meant to be self-deprecating, but it sounds fake. He obviously wants me to think he’s important.
His behavior is off-putting, but it’s possible he’s nervous or a little awkward. I get that. I’m sometimes tongue-tied around strangers, so I give him the benefit of the doubt and ask questions. After we order, he opens up about his job, his friends, and his family, as well as his likes and dislikes. But by the time our food arrives, I realize Chris can’t stop talking about…Chris. I’m a little bothered, but I hope a nudge will take our conversation in a different direction.
A few minutes later, I push mushroom ravioli across my plate. I still haven’t said a word about myself. He hasn’t given me a chance.
Is Chris anxious…or self-absorbed?
My attention wanes until he mentions that he loves cats. Finally, something we have in common.