“Ah, the matchmaking service.”
“You’ve heard of us?” At last, my fingertips brushed against flat leather, my card case. I pulled it out, flipped it open, and plucked out a card, setting it on the table.
“Daryl Laroche.” Tevin fingered my card as he read my name. “I know all about Premier. The owner, Marguerite Munro has been trying to drag me to one of those Friday night mixers for over a year.”
Holy crap. I couldn’t believe it. If Marguerite had been chasing this guy, he wasn’t a wanna-be entrepreneur. He was the real thing. “And you haven’t come, not to a single one?”
“Nope.” He looked quite proud of himself.
“Wow, I think you might be the first person I’ve met who has managed to refuse Marguerite anything. What that woman wants, she gets.”
“So I hear.” He lifted my card, but instead of handing it back, like I half-expected him to, he slid it into his wallet. “She hasn’t gotten me yet, but she hasn’t given up.” Catching sight of the waitress, returning with a tray of drinks balanced on one hand, he pointed at my glass. “Are you sure you don’t want something a little stronger?”
“No, thanks. I have to get up early tomorrow.”
“Saturday morning?” He handed the waitress some cash. “I’ll take care of the ladies’ tab, as well as this round. Keep the change.”
“Thank you.” The waitress disappeared into the thickening crowd.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.” I curled my fingers around the chilled glass and lifted the straw to my mouth. My arm brushed against his as I moved, and my face warmed a little.
“My pleasure.” He lifted his glass, waiting for me to do the same. “To...the thrill of closing the big deal.”
“I’ll drink to that.” I tapped my glass against his and downed at least half of my drink. This guy was smart, charming, with a face that would make angels weep and a body that made me tingly all over. He was a ten plus. And—assuming my boss knew something about his financial situation that I didn’t--it was no wonder she had tried to sell him her service. She’d have a stadium full of women lining up to become Mrs. Tevin within days.
I couldn’t mess this up.
Still staring at me with those dark eyes, full of secrets, he set down his drink. “So, what’s the story? Do you get up early on Saturday mornings for kicks or is there another reason?”
I played with my straw. The ice cubes clanked against the glass as I churned it into a mini-whirlpool. “Work. We have an open call for next week’s mixer. Contrary to what you might think, beautiful, intelligent women don’t fall into our laps. We have to search for them. We work hard--”
“You don’t have to give me the sales pitch. I’ve heard it before.” He stood, offered a hand, and beamed a smile that would stop a weaker woman’s heart forever. “Dance with me.”
I hadn’t even realized there was music playing. Nor had I noticed Sasha had given me the slip. “Sure.” I didn’t need it, but I accepted his help as I stood. With Tevin’s hand resting on the small of my back, I wound through the crowd toward the small dance floor in the back.
Stopping at the outside fringe of the crowd of couples swaying to the mellow jazz tune the band was playing, I stepped into Tevin’s arms. Immediately, I realized he knew how to move. His hips rocked from side to side as he held me closely. With two inch heels, I stood maybe five inches shorter than him. I fit nicely against him. Too nicely. The spicy scent of his cologne, combined with the sultry voice of the band’s singer, and the sensation of being held made me wish, for just a moment, that I was on a date, rather than trying to enlist a new enrollee in a dating service.
I tipped my head up and met his eyes, and for the briefest of moments, our gazes locked.
Girl, you’re giving this guy the wrong impression.
I pulled away, not completely, just enough to let him know I was uncomfortable. He tipped his head slightly, his eyes never leaving mine.#p#分页标题#e#
I cleared my throat. “What’ll it take to convince you to come to a Friday night mixer?”
“I’ll let you know.” He led me into a fancy little swirl and spin.
“Oh!” A tad dizzy, I tightened my hold and followed his lead, laughing when he dipped me at the end. I half expected, from the look on his face, for him to bend over me and give me a little kiss, maybe more, but to my relief he didn’t. He pulled me upright.
But then, as my body molded to his, our gazes tangled again. A current of electricity zipped through me, and a blaze of heat followed. Time seemed to freeze. His lids were heavy, his eyes dark. The tip of his tongue slid along his lower lip.