Okay, so the pub had been her own personal version of hell, with all the beautiful people talking and laughing and carrying on. And okay, so she’d felt like an imposter wearing the ridiculous dress and stupid shoes Marisa had insisted on for the date. But did one look from one hot guy really warrant running away like a coward? No, it did not.
Christie took a slow breath, trying to calm herself.
She hadn’t had that weird panicky feeling for years. Not since she’d been a teenager forced into going to her mother’s hideous society parties. The ones where she stood out like a shaggy pony in a stable full of Thoroughbreds.
Leaning against the wall to try to take the pressure off her feet, Christie attempted to figure out yet again what on earth had possessed her to say yes to Ben’s dating article. Yes, he’d promised he’d give her the Ashton Technology E-Slate product launch to cover, which certainly beat having to do yet another review about yet another wireless mouse. But surely even that wasn’t worth this humiliation?
“You’re not wearing Ugg boots,” a male voice said from behind her. A voice like dark, brushed velvet.
All the remaining air escaped her lungs and she gave a gasp, whirling round.
A man stood on the sidewalk not far from her. Tall—taller even than she was—perhaps over six-three, with the broad, powerful shoulders and the lean hips of an Olympic swimmer. She was staring and she couldn’t help it. He had black hair, a bit disheveled, as if he’d run his fingers through it one too many times, and the five o’clock shadow that covered his classical cheekbones and strong, angular jaw gave him a faintly disreputable look. And those eyes… God, the same eyes that had been looking at her back in the bar. So blue. So dark. The color of the sky on the cusp between twilight and full night.
A shiver went through her.
“E-e-excuse me?” she squeaked, her stupid stutter bleeding through.
His gaze dropped to the lamb leaping up her shoulder. “Naughtygirl25, I presume?”
No. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be Studman500. Online dates did not turn out to be men who looked this dark, dangerous, and seriously sexy. Like a pirate or the kind of bad boy your mother warned you about. Oh no they did not.
“Studman?”
“In the flesh.” He grinned and her heart slammed to a halt inside her chest.
Oh God. Why did he have to be her naughty, wicked Studman?
“Uh…I…I…” she managed before her tongue froze and stuck to the roof of her mouth in a way it hadn’t for years and years.
Studman raised one winged brow, hands pushed into the pockets of the black jeans that sat low on his lean hips. There was an air of barely leashed energy about him, like that of a restless lion about to pounce. It was attractive. Thrilling. “Is there a problem?”
Yeah, there was a problem. And it was standing right in front of her. “N-no.”
“But you are Naughtygirl25, right?”
She wanted to say of course she wasn’t. Which was weird because there wasn’t any reason to. Not that she could anyway with the damn brooch on her shoulder, glinting in the streetlight.
Christie tried to get her tongue working again. “Yeah.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I must admit, you’re not quite what I expected.” His gaze began to travel down her figure, assessing her, pausing on her legs before rising back to her face again. “But that’s a good thing.”
A good thing? Something lingered in his eyes, a flame that burned hot. Intent.
She went still, her heart thundering. No guy had ever looked at her like that before. Like she was something delicious he wanted to eat.
“Oh,” she said stupidly. “Why?”
His mouth curved in a slow, sexy smile. “Because I didn’t expect you to be quite so gorgeous.”
Christie gaped at him. Gorgeous? Had he perhaps inhaled something before meeting her? Something illegal? Guys liked her because she was a gamer. Because she didn’t zone out when they started playing their favorite Minecraft YouTube clips or talked about the number of frags in their Halo games.
“What? I’m being inappropriate again?”
Speak, idiot!
“Uh…n-no. I just…just…” She stopped, flushing.
“You just?” he prompted.
“N-nothing.”
His smile deepened. “So do I get to find out why you took one look at me and ran out?”
Ah. Yes, her frightened-rabbit exit. She shifted on her feet, heels giving a dangerous wobble. “I…it was just…I had to leave.” Lame. So lame.
He waited for her to elaborate and when she didn’t, prompted, “Leave for….?”
“Uh, urgent…um…women’s problems.” Oh dear God. Had she really just said that? Was she insane?