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He couldn’t be that shallow, could he?
He could, of course he could. Some guys were. Some women, too. What a waste of a sexy exterior.
But if that were true, that he only wanted one part of her, there was no way she wanted any part of him. If that were true it was totally over. Over! From now on she’d leave Justin Case alone.
She sighed, knowing her attraction had become an obsession she needed to figure out. Knowing she’d go to the party.
But not dressed as Sexy Glamour Girl.
Okay. Maybe it wasn’t totally over. Candy would give it one more try.
This time the sick-of-winter party wasn’t a dream. Several of Troy’s friends had come, and the weather had cooperated enough that Justin had been able to drag his grill out of the garage and tend to it in the driveway, huddled as close as possible without becoming charred meat himself. Hot dogs, hamburgers and bratwurst, of course—this was Milwaukee after all—frozen corn on the cob, which was grilled and slath-ered with chipotle butter, green salad, potato salad and a truly scary dish made from strawberry Jell-O, cream cheese, Cool Whip and crushed pretzels, which Justin planned on giving a wide berth. Some things about the midwest he’d never get used to.
By the time people had had their fill of grilled meat and various starches, Candy still hadn’t shown. Justin hadn’t realized how often he’d been glancing at his watch until Troy sidled up to him and grabbed his wrist. “Dude. She’ll either come or not. Chill.”
Busted. He shrugged, Mr. Nonchalance. “Just anxious to get this investigation going.”
“Uh-huh.” Troy slapped him on the back. “I believe you.
I do. Really. Fun party, by the way.”
“Thanks for supplying the idea and eighty percent of the guests.”
Troy chuckled. “No problem.”
The bell rang. Justin managed to give the front door a supremely cool look.
“Run.” Troy gave him a nudge. “You know you want to.”
Justin ambled. But not after giving his smirking friend a look that wouldn’t do anything but make Justin feel better.
It was Candy, so beautiful Justin had to remind himself tonight was all about the story. He’d scanned Milwaukeedates profiles online and had found only one other woman who might have a duplicate profile. He’d written to both versions of her, and was trying to get her—or maybe them—to agree to meet him. One seemed willing, one wasn’t, which didn’t mean much. He’d also contacted a number of men, only a handful of whom were willing to share their experiences. A few of that handful had encountered women they described as extremely hot who lost interest after two or three dates. A couple of those women could have been Candy. Not proof by any means, but not dis-proof either.
“Hey, there.” He grinned foolishly. Under her open parka, Candy wore a pretty floral sundress that scooped discreetly at the neck and flared past her knees. Her long, thick hair, the color of cherrywood, hung wavy and loose past her shoulders.
Over her eyes, narrow blue-rimmed glasses that were chic and endearing at the same time. In a room of tank tops and shorts, she’d look like an elegant flower garden. “I’m glad you made it.”
She smiled and Justin swore his heart skipped a beat. How was he going to get through this? He should have stayed away from alcohol. Even a moderate amount could crumble resolves stronger than his.
“I brought a vanilla ice cream pie.” She held up a foil-covered plate. “With coconut crust, topped with blueberries and strawberries, kind of a red white and blue, Fourth of July thing. It should go in the freezer if you’re not going to eat it right away.”
“We’re going to eat it right away. Come on in.” He took the pie and draped her coat over the same arm so he could touch the small of her back, encouraging her into the room full of strangers. The perfect host, except her body was warm through the thin, soft material of her dress, and his manners wanted to slip as much as his hand did.
He introduced her around; she was welcomed warmly by Troy’s friends who had rapidly become Justin’s, too, as the sangria, hard lemonade and Corona beer took hold of everyone’s mood. Troy gave Justin a wink over Candy’s head and a surreptitious thumbs-up so like the one in Justin’s dream that he almost dropped his beer. A lemonade was thrust into Candy’s hand, a reggae CD put on the sound system, pies and watermelon were passed, and everyone settled in for a good sugar high. Justin made sure Candy sat near Troy, started them off chatting, then made some excuse to move on, pleased all would go according to plan.
