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I stretch, wishing I had time for a quick yoga session before my date but I don't. I pour myself a glass of red wine and then head to my bedroom to find a suitable dress for tonight. I strip down to my black lace bra and underwear. I always wear sexy underwear, even when I'm the only one who is going to see it, especially on days I’m in court. Racy lingerie makes me feel strong and confident, which I need in the courtroom.
I dig through my closet and find a simple black dress with plenty of sex appeal between its short length and low-cut front, giving off the vibe that I expect sex tonight and lots of it. I get dressed and touch up my hair and makeup in the mirror. I consider curling my hair but think better of it. I don't want him to think I'm trying too hard. That's not what tonight is about. If he thinks I'm trying hard, then he'll think I want to go on a second date. I don't.
I apply another coat of red lipstick as I hear a knock on the door, faintly from behind my blaring music. I glance at the clock on my phone; he's early. One positive strike for him already. Carrying my wine and phone with me, I head to the living room and turn off the music on my way to the door. We have plenty of time to have a drink together first before heading to dinner.
I open the door with an intriguing smile. My skin flushes, my lips part, and my knees grow so weak I have to grasp the doorframe to remain standing when I see how ruggedly handsome my date is. He has shoulder-length dark hair, a scar across his cheek that makes him look a little dangerous, but nothing compared to the men I prosecute. His body looks strong and fit beneath his simple black T-shirt and jeans. He appears to be way underdressed for the restaurant he told me he was taking me to tonight, but maybe I'm the one who’s overdressed. There is also something familiar about him that I can’t place.
"Would you like to come in and have a drink before our date tonight?" I ask Saul. I rake my teeth over my bottom lip letting him know how much I appreciate his body and charming appearance. Jack did an excellent job setting us up.
"I'd love to come in.”
He steps inside, taking up space like he owns the place as he walks. I shut the door behind us and rush forward, leading him into my kitchen.
"Is red wine okay or would you like something else?" I ask, my voice raspy as I speak. I swallow hard, trying to remedy my voice.
He scours the room, but I have no idea what he’s looking for. "Red wine is fine.”
I suddenly feel nervous, my hands clammy, as I begin pouring him a glass of wine. I'm used to dating powerful, strong men, but this man is different. He walks around commanding attention, demanding my eyes to stay on him and he's barely said anything or hardly even looked at me. I'm used to sharp dressed men that give me flowers and complements, place their hand on the small my back, or link our fingers together.
He does none of these things. But yet he requires everything of me.
He walks over to the colossal windows spanning the entire length of the wall, looking out over the ocean. I walk over to him and hold out his glass of wine to him, my hand shaking slightly. "Here you go.”
He takes the glass from me, lifts it to his mouth, and takes a sip before spitting it out.
He eyes the glass suspiciously. "You call this wine? It's disgusting."
I snort and raise an eyebrow as I take the wine glass back from him. "Sorry, I don't have much experience with wine, so I usually buy whatever cheap wine is on sale. I think I have some whiskey if you prefer?”
He shakes his head. “I don't think I trust your taste in whiskey either."
“I guess you'll be the one picking out the wine at dinner tonight."
He reaches out and tugs gently on one of my strands of hair. “Do you always straighten your hair like this?"
I nod. “Why? You don't like it?" I open my eyes wide and give him an ‘I dare you to say you hate it’ stare.
“No reason. I used to know someone who wore her hair very much like yours. It suits you well."
“Thank you. Although, straight is a trendy hairstyle. I do have a close friend who wears her hair very similar to mine. People would call us twins, or at the very least, sisters because we were so much alike."
“And what is your friend's name?"
“Nina."
“Would Nina like to go on a double date with us to dinner this evening?”
I shake my head. “No, she doesn't live here.”
I swear he frowns at the news, but then again, he seems always to be frowning or grimacing or glaring. He doesn't seem like a happy, relaxed person. He seems stiff and far too serious.
I’m one to talk. I spend my whole day being serious. Maybe his work is similar to mine, and he has to take it seriously. I can understand why it would be hard for him to relax, even on a date.
“Shall we head to dinner?”
“Sure, that way we can get you a proper drink," I say smiling at him, hoping he will smile back.
He doesn’t; he continues to stare at me like he has seen a ghost or something.
