He reached down and hiked his pants back up, leaving them open and sitting low on his hips as he helped her pull her skirt back into place. “So, what do you think?” he said. “It was worth a second time, right?”
She laughed. He wasn’t looking for validation—his cocky grin told her he was just pointing out that he’d been right. “Yeah, Dylan. Second time was definitely worth it.”
“You know what they say?”
She sunk into the cushion and draped an arm over her forehead, still catching her breath. “What do they say?”
“It’s the third one that’s the charm.”
She giggled and shoved his arm. She’d just have to see about that. As for tonight, she’d gotten exactly what she needed. Tomorrow, she would take the first step in finding what she needed for her life.
Twelve
Date number one on the road to Dani’s soulmate was not off to a good start.
Christian Graham, a criminal defense attorney at a prestigious firm in Dupont Circle, was her very first match on Eight Dates To Your Soulmate. The way it worked was the site gave you access to the basic details of the profiles you matched with. If you liked one, you clicked a little heart button (gag) and if they clicked it too, voilá! They became one of your chosen eight.
She’d clicked Christian’s because he was tall with good hair and the kind of blue eyes that made women want to pay for your sperm. She’d thought his almost instantaneous reply was a hint at their potential chemistry, but in person, his whole vibe screamed stuffy corporate type. She found that despite the fact that she was one too (minus the stuffy) she didn’t really like corporate types. They were too… calculating. But this entire thing was supposed to bring her men with more potential, and maybe that sort of shrewdness translated well in a relationship. She’d never really stuck around long enough to find out.
“So yeah, youngest in my firm to hit that benchmark,” he was saying. “The rest is history.”
She nodded and smiled. She’d missed the climax of the story, too busy wondering if he was the type who would share a plate of buffalo chicken nachos or turn out to be a steak-medium-rare guy. She’d put her money on the latter.
“Red or white?” he asked. He’d turned his attention to the wine menu. Hopefully not because he’d realized she wasn’t listening.
“Oh. I was thinking of getting a cocktail.”
“I like a good gin.” He flipped over the menu. The place he’d chosen was uber pretentious, with quirky names for all the cocktails like “Ginger Bailey” and “Widow’s Walk”.
“I’m feeling tequila. Think they can make a frozen margarita?” She knew they couldn’t. She was just testing him.
Christian squirmed a little in his seat, running a finger under his collar. Ha! If he was this uptight about happy hour drinks, imagine him in bed. Though, she wasn’t supposed to.
She sort of got it now, the whole meaning behind the rule. Say Christian was a cunnilingus genius. She might be inclined to stick around to hear the second part of that boring story. Then who knows how long she’d waste on him?
Wow. Way to self-sabotage, Dani.
It was possible she wasn’t putting in enough effort here. She’d been judging Christian from the minute he showed up in his cherry-red Beamer, tearing his sunglasses off like he was Maverick from Top Gun. If she was going to put the time and effort into this app, she needed to be more open, let the science have a shot.
“So, Christian, what made you sign up for this whole dating app thing? I have to admit it’s my first time.”
He sipped his water and licked the moisture off of his lip, somehow making that gesture look entirely unappealing. Sort of like that little lizard on TV that sells car insurance. “Now that I’ve made partner,” he said, “the others sort of expect the whole family man image. I need to make a good impression.”
She batted her lashes to keep from rolling her eyes. Find a soulmate to further your career—how romantic. And from someone who found romance a little sickening, that was a telling thought. “I see. Well, that’s certainly one way to go about it.”
“What is it you do again?” he asked. “Marketing?”
“I’m a branding consultant.”
“Same thing.”
“Um, no.” She took a centering breath. “I started out in marketing, actually, but I found branding more interesting. It’s helping clients figure out who they are, defining their image, their story. It’s more creative than just selling a product.”
Christian’s gaze drifted over her shoulder as she spoke. She couldn’t really claim indignance though, since she’d just done the same.
Okay. New tactic. She was not going to bail on this before they’d eaten.
The waiter came and Christian ordered the salmon. Almost as predictable as the steak. She ordered a burger and fries. He pretended not to be appalled.
After a few wordless bites, his phone buzzed from the pocket of his suit coat, and he reached for it. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll just be a minute.” She expected him to get up and leave her alone, but he lifted it to his ear right at the table. At least the drug dealer had the courtesy to step away so she didn’t have to listen to his conversation. She slurped a big gulp of water, wishing it was a margarita, as she watched him take the call.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the same algorithm that knew her wine. She could pick this poorly on her own. Why was she always finding herself in these situations? The guys she met were either a thrill ride and one step from homeless, or great on paper but required a stimulant to have a conversation with. Was there no happy medium? Didn’t any fun men have jobs, stability? It was exhausting, really, and the optimism she’d started the night with was starting to disintegrate.
She couldn’t get discouraged yet, though. This was only one date. She had eight. There were bound to be some kinks in the plan. Maybe she’d filled a question out wrong along the way.
Christian spoke loudly now, gesturing with his hands and drawing the attention of some of the other diners. She briefly hoped whatever it was was important enough that he might get called away, but she knew it was more likely he just thought of himself as important enough to be rude. Finally, he ended the call with a “Cheers” and her eyes nearly rolled back into her skull.
She looked at her watch wondering how long it would take them to make that burger. “So, I have a thing at nine,” she lied.
Christian didn’t look disappointed.
Dylan held the door, letting his date slip past him into the dark club. Chivalry, he decided as he stole a look at the back of her mile-long bare legs, should never die. Kendra was the hairdresser to their part-time receptionist. When she’d stopped by last week to deliver some hot oil treatment to Sari, Dylan happened to be in the office. It was lust at first sight, and now he had her on a Saturday night, dressed in a body-con number that barely covered her ass, leading him down the stairs to a basement bar that he was about a decade too old to be in. Lucky for him, you could barely see a thing in this place besides strobe lights and artificial smoke.