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She was starting to hate that word.Crazy.If she emphasized how crazy this was a million more times, it might eventually ring true.Crazy, crazy, crazy.There, much better. Why then did her heart contract painfully as her desperation-tinged cheeriness tainted the air?
Because it wasn’t so crazy, Jules.Okay, the “protection” bit was out there on the city limits of Nutsville, but the sex part of the equation? Not so much.
She wanted him. More than ever. Shit.
His unwavering stare twisted a dangerous curl of hope around her heart.
Say it’s not crazy. Tell me we can do this. Fight for me, Taddeo DeLuca. Fight forus.
But whatever famed intuition he had in the ways of the opposite sex was off today. He was a man after all. Laughing softly, he shook his head.
“I suppose it was pretty crazy.”
Oh yeah, that word sucked donkey balls.
Shoving her disappointment deep, she gave a mental hitch of her pants, inordinately proud of how adult she had handled this very awkward situation.
“Now tell me all about this cheese monger you’ve got the hots for.”
Sixteen
Most online dates started with e-mails or IMs, but Jules couldn’t do that, not unless she wanted to have someone proofread all her messages for her. So she went straight to phone calls. If she was expecting an instant connection, then clearly she needed to calibrate her hopes. Over the years, she had become fairly adept at picking up cues in other people’s voices, so the disappointment of how the dates went surprised her.
The first one had ended when the guy got a call from not one, but two exes, then proceeded to ask her advice on their respective merits, complete with supporting documentation that he described as “boudoir shots.” The second went all the way through a pleasant, if bland lunch, until she asked why he kept bending down to scratch his foot. That’s when he showed her his nice, sparkly ankle bracelet. The flashing green light indicated he was still in monitoring range of the receiver in his apartment above the diner.
As she told Lili and Cara in her reports, if someone had filmed her disastrous dates, all her reaction shots would show gaping mouths and melting faces from variations of Munch’sThe Scream.
Now at Starbucks in Wicker Park, Jules’s third first date since she had opened for business, as her brother called it, stretched ominously before her. Bachelor Number Three—Aaron Roberts—had yet to arrive and every swoosh of the front door had her raising her eyes in a brew of anticipation and dread. She had picked him because he owned a rug company, which hinted at safe and secure. Yet her schizophrenic mind had also jumped to sheepskin hearthrugs and cozy evenings by the fire because apparently she wanted a side of romance with her boring entrée.
Pathetic.
The door opened, her head shot up, andding, ding, ding, what have we got here? Bachelor Number Three wasn’t half bad!
He wore pressed khakis, a button-down Oxford, and the air of someone at home in the corporate surroundings of Starbucks. The Michael Bublé soundtrack matched perfectly his smooth, non-threatening entrance. A quick scan, and he strode over, head ducked a little shyly, nice all-American smile spreading wider as he drew closer. His online dating avatar did not do him justice.
“Jules?” he said tentatively.
She nodded. “Wow, you’re…”Shite, where was she going with this?“…not an ogre.”
Evan was on aShrekkick right now, so ogres, both real and fictional, were uppermost in her mind.
He laughed, a comforting sound that she could imagine blanketing her safely while she stretched out lazily on that sheepskin hearthrug.
“Neither are you. Good thing we got that out of the way. Could have been awkward.” He shot a frown at her empty table. “Think we have a problem, though.”
“We do?” she croaked.
“You don’t have a coffee and I’m not sure I can break bread with a woman who isn’t a coffee addict like myself.”
She let loose a nervous giggle that made her sound a touch manic. “Oh, I just haven’t ordered yet. Didn’t want to get too far ahead in the perk stakes.”
“I love that accent of yours,” he murmured. “Let me get the drinks in and then you can tell me all about yourself in that posh voice.”
Hmm, complimentary without being too forward, and manners to boot. She told him her caffeine requirements and watched unashamedly as he walked away.
Nice ass, Mr. Roberts.
Well, it looked like third time was the charm. Every girl had to kiss a few frogs first to get to her prince. Unable to help herself, she stole another glance in his direction. Aaron shot her an unfroglike grin and she wiggled her toes in a little happy dance under the table.
