try not to pry.”
He wasn’t really joking, she could tell. For all his friendliness, there was a guardedness about him. His piercing eyes, warm on her now, still managed to say, Don’t get close. “So what do you do, Beth?” he asked.
“I’m a technical writer.” That was one of her jobs, anyway. Sex columnist working on her first article would change the entire flavor of the encounter. She never revealed her identity when she reviewed venues, so why start now? With her nondescript appearance and subtle research techniques, she slipped in and out of hot spots like a ghost with taste.
“That sounds interesting.”
She laughed. “You’re too kind. It sounds boring, but it’s fascinating to me. I like the challenge of turning engineering jargon into something ordinary people can grasp.”
“Having once assembled a stereo system, I salute you. Do you have an engineering background?”
“Not really. My degree is in English, but I took lots of math and science.”
The waitress arrived with their drinks and after she left, AJ lifted his Scotch in a toast. “To tiki drinks and talking,” he said, studying her over his glass.
Something hot vibrated along her nerves, connecting between her legs, which she nervously crossed. They were only discussing cocktails and technical writing, but she felt on the brink of something thrilling. And scary.
Raising her Licorice Twist in its tall glass, she said, “To getting to know each other.” And more?
Only if she dared. And if he was interested, of course.
The proportions of anise and chocolate in her drink were off, and the liqueur was a cheap one, so the effect was sickeningly sweet without an alcohol bite. She mentally crossed Licorice Twist off her top ten list. That part of her column was moving along. For the rest of it, the important part, she should say something flirty, but she settled for the predictable. “And how about you? What brings you to Grins?”
“I’m staying here, in the hotel.”
“Where are you from?”
“San Francisco.”
“And you’re here on business?” He nodded and something flickered in his eyes, some discomfort, but she asked the next question anyway. “And what work do you do?”
“I’m a transition expert. I help, uh, reorganize companies, redeploy staff, all that.”
“Far more interesting than technical writing.”
“It hasn’t been much fun today and I actually dropped in here to stop thinking about it.” He lifted his glass as proof.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” She’d been practically grilling the man. Any second she’d ask for his social security number so she could run his prints.
“Let’s just stick with keeping each other company.” He tapped his drink against her glass and studied her again. “That’s what I find interesting.”
“Okay. Sure.” She had to look away, uncomfortable with how closely he was looking at her with those laser blues. But part of her liked it. The tingling between her legs intensified. She could see that if a woman went with certain impulses, she could end up in bed with a man like AJ with no effort at all. Some women, anyway.
“Actually, you caught my interest just walking across the room a while ago,” AJ said.
“Really?” That might be a line, but there was something so direct about AJ that she was sure there was more to it. He had looked intrigued when he’d caught her gaze near the rest rooms. “How so?”
“You seemed, I don’t know, contradictory.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re dressed very hot, but you’re unsteady in your heels and you’ve got a little-kid barrette in your hair.”
“Oh.” Her hand flew to touch the Hello Kitty clasp she’d borrowed from her neighbor’s daughter to hold her hair up. “I borrowed this. And I’m just getting used to new shoes.” The truth was that she never wore heels. AJ had seen right through to her inner librarian.
“Don’t apologize. The contradictions suit you.”
His scrutiny and flattery unnerved her, so she decided to joke away the feeling. “Excellent. I’m completely charmed. And what’s my line? ‘No one’s ever noticed that about me before’?”
“You’re catching on,” he said, but a flicker in his eyes told her she’d hurt his feelings.
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m not good at this.”
“At what?”
“You know. Snappy repartee, flirting, all that. I prefer to be more direct. I like people to say what they mean.”
“Me, too.”
“But you’re good at the other. You were great with the waitress, and that dropped-pen bit with me was very fresh.”
“I guess that’s a compliment?”
“Absolutely. I’m just interested in how this all works.”
“Why is that?”
She couldn’t exactly answer that, but she could come close. And get some data on the male point of view on dating. If she wasn’t going to sleep with the guy, she could at least interview him. “The thing is, I haven’t dated in a while. I’m kind of, well, rusty. So, I have questions about the whole process.”
“You haven’t dated for a while, huh?”
“No. I was in a relationship that ended. And I’ve been out of, um, circulation for quite a while.”
“Our loss, I would say. Speaking for men in general.”
“Thanks. So, can I ask you about how all this works?”
He seemed amused by her question. “It’s not like I’m an expert, but ask away.”
“Great.” She wiggled into her seat, feeling better wearing her reporter hat. “Here goes. How do you decide what to say first when you want to meet a woman?”
He shrugged. “It depends on the woman and the situation.”
“No tired lines, right, like, ‘Did it hurt much when you fell out of heaven’?”
“Hell, no. That’s for amateurs.” He winked, clearly teasing her. “The first line is just to break the ice. It should be funny or intriguing and certainly not sexual.”
“Too offensive, right?”
“Exactly. And the first line isn’t make-or-break. It’s the second line that counts. By the second line, you’ve got a conversation on your hands.”
“Oh,
