The Blind Date

That’s a lot of pressure, especially considering I only just decided that maybe I could start dating. I choose to deflect, giving myself time to think on that later. “And did you find Mr. or Miss Right this past weekend? Or the weekend before that?” I ask pointedly, and Eli shakes his head.

“Nope . . . but damn if it wasn’t fun. Do you know how good a big ol’ eight-inch . . .” He grins big and broad, the eternally inappropriate jokester holding his hands out wide, but I see his eyes tick down the street after Arielle before landing back on me.

“Lemme stop you right there. I don’t need the details right now, especially since we’re in public.”

Eli looks around and agrees. “Point taken,” he says, ignoring that I’d flashed my panties to the people around us moments ago. But he wags his brows and adds, “You know you’re already imagining it anyway.”

I swat at his shoulder, grinning. “Well, now I am.”

He feigns pain at my wimpy slap, holding a hand over his shoulder. “Watch it, tiger. No need to get all feisty on my account.” He rawrs and scratches at the air like a giant cat.

“You’re a sweetheart, Eli, you know that?” I say genuinely. He flips between light-hearted and insightful, giving me just enough to think on but also letting me have time to marinate the seeds he plants.

Eli laughs and slings an arm around my shoulder. “You know it, honeychops. I’m sweet, and you’re sunshine. Now you just need to find your other half.”

“If he’s out there.”

Eli nods, and we start heading out of the park. “You know, maybe instead of looking for more sunshine, you need a Yin to your Yang.”

“Gloomy? Negative Nicky?”

“I was thinking more moonlight to your sunlight, you know?”

I nudge Eli in the ribs. “You’re a wise man.”

“Hell, I know that. Life would be much, much better if the whole world just listened to me. Financial security and sexual satisfaction, all rolled up in one sexy as fuck package.” His cockiness and jokes cover his true desire to help.

“Maybe. But if you’re sweet and I’m sunshine, what does that make Arielle?” I ask, tiptoeing back into deeper waters curiously.

“Great question, Miss Sunshine. That is definitely a great question.” Eli shakes his head as though he can rattle an answer out of the cobwebs lurking in the corners of his mind. But Eli is way too neat and tidy for any dust or dirt—in his mind or his life. He examines every corner, every possibility and opportunity before committing. Whether it’s a mortgage, a mutual fund, a second date, or . . . more.

“See you Friday night?” I offer.

“You know it. I’ll bring the wine, as always.” Eli has much better taste in wine than either me or Arielle, who would happily pop a twisty straw in a box of Franzia and sip it like an adult Capri Sun, so wine is his self-given assignment.

“I’ll make sure I’ve got clean wine glasses and a charcuterie board for us to nibble on.”

Eli blinks slowly, surprised. “Listen to you, fancy-pants. Did you say charcuterie?”

I laugh. “You wouldn’t be impressed if you knew I had to mentally say shark-cuter-ie in my head before I say it aloud. Same as Wed-nes-day every time I have to spell it.”

His laugh is slow and deep as he shakes his head. “Finding you a Mr. Right might be harder than I thought, but I’ll trust that Arielle has a plan. She always does.”

Chapter 2

Noah

“You know what your problem is, Noah?” my best friend and colleague, River Watson, asks me as I check over my appearance in the mirror on the wall of my office. “You’re too damn uptight.”

Running my fingers through my hair, I straighten my suit coat for the third time before evening out the cufflinks of my dress shirt and shifting my tie. “You’re just now figuring that out? That might make your problem an utter lack of observation.”

Quirking my brow, I turn to appraise River, who’s perched on the corner of my desk and eying me with a critical smirk. Like me, he’s dressed smoothly in dress pants and a tie, though minus the suit coat, his golden blond hair perfectly styled. He chuckles dismissively. “You and I both know that’s not true. I see everything, know everything.” His tone goes hollow and ominous.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

There’s nothing. River and I have been best friends for years at this point. We’ve seen each other at our best and our worst.

“That the Red Queen is never going to let you gain too much power,” River supplies readily, “no matter how hard you work. She’s not ready to go anywhere and is not the type to share.”

Shit. He knows how to hit below the belt. Not to my balls, but to my weakest point—my ambition.