without
looking, it was only recently that she’d ventured forth from her protective
cocoon and began internet dating.
As though he’d read her
mind, Jake asked, “What happened to your companion?”
Sandra shrugged, causing
the spaghetti strap of her little black dress to slide halfway down her
shoulder. Before she could correct its alignment, Jake pulled up the strap with
a casual finger. He seemed unaffected by the action, and she tried to calm her
racing heart rate. “I have no idea. I guess he stood me up.” A rueful smile
curved her lips. It was ironic that she had forced herself to look past her
misgivings at meeting in person someone she had known merely through email,
only to have Barry decide not to show.
Jake shook his head.
“Unbelievable. He must be an idiot.”
“Perhaps, but maybe I
should be grateful.” She looked up at him through half-closed eyelids, hoping
the look said sexy instead of sleepy.
A deep chuckle shook his
chest. “Maybe I’m the one who should be grateful. Next time you see him, thank
him for me.”
Sandra took a sip of the
scotch. “I won’t be seeing Barry again. We’ve never met, actually. Tonight was
supposed to be our first date.” She cocked her head to the side. “I suppose
that term covers it.”
He lifted a brow. “How’s
that work?”
“He answered my ad on
Craigslist. I seemed to be what he was looking for, at least for tonight.” She
grinned. “Apparently, he found someone else he wanted more.”
“His
loss.” He was
examining her with an unreadable expression, one that made her squirm.
Abruptly, his grin returned, and he gestured for another scotch, having
finished his second while she talked.
Sandra watched with a
fair amount of hesitation as he downed that drink almost as quickly as the
previous beverages.
Her uncertainty must have
shown, because he gestured to the empty glass. “It’s strictly therapy, and very
occasional.”
“Ah.” Did all alcoholics
say that? Until the day he died, her father had never admitted he had a
problem. She could feel herself withdrawing from Jake and began looking for
excuses to leave.
“You haven’t asked, but
I’ll tell you why I’m here. It’s related to the scotch.” His lips twisted. “I
was having dinner with my ex-agent. I thought it was going to be a strategy
session to plan out how to attract a new team after my knee heals by next
season. Turns out, it was his attempt to let me down easy.” His eyes darkened
as his gaze settled on the ice cubes in his glass. “At thirty-nine, with an ACL
injury, he doesn’t think I’ll find a new team. I’m no longer viable, so he
dropped me.”
Instinctively, she
reached out to place her hand on his. “I’m sorry. That must be awful.”
Jake shrugged. “Not as
bad as when my ex-fiancée, who broke it off with me while I was still in the
hospital, called Pete’s phone when he was in the bathroom. I answered, she
thought I was him, and spoke pretty intimately. All in one night, I found out
my ex-agent—who used to be my best friend—is screwing the bitch who left me
when she saw my NFL career coming to an abrupt end.”
Sandra winced, unable to
imagine how low Jake must feel after learning that. “Can I get you another?”
Jake laughed. “Nah. There’s no answer to what I’ll do with my life in the
bottom of the scotch bottle.”
“No,
definitely not.” Her hand was still on his, and she squeezed again. “Would you like to bounce
ideas off me? I’m a good listener. I usually charge by the hour, but I’ll give
you a free pass.” Sandra was thankful he hadn’t walked into her office for
therapy sessions, which would have precluded any kind of relationship besides
doctor-patient.
His eyes gleamed with a
strange glint as he shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t want to think about the
future at the moment. I just want to think about tonight.”
The way his pitch lowered
an octave raised the hair on the back of her neck and had her
looking, it was only recently that she’d ventured forth from her protective
cocoon and began internet dating.
As though he’d read her
mind, Jake asked, “What happened to your companion?”
Sandra shrugged, causing
the spaghetti strap of her little black dress to slide halfway down her
shoulder. Before she could correct its alignment, Jake pulled up the strap with
a casual finger. He seemed unaffected by the action, and she tried to calm her
racing heart rate. “I have no idea. I guess he stood me up.” A rueful smile
curved her lips. It was ironic that she had forced herself to look past her
misgivings at meeting in person someone she had known merely through email,
only to have Barry decide not to show.
Jake shook his head.
“Unbelievable. He must be an idiot.”
“Perhaps, but maybe I
should be grateful.” She looked up at him through half-closed eyelids, hoping
the look said sexy instead of sleepy.
A deep chuckle shook his
chest. “Maybe I’m the one who should be grateful. Next time you see him, thank
him for me.”
Sandra took a sip of the
scotch. “I won’t be seeing Barry again. We’ve never met, actually. Tonight was
supposed to be our first date.” She cocked her head to the side. “I suppose
that term covers it.”
He lifted a brow. “How’s
that work?”
“He answered my ad on
Craigslist. I seemed to be what he was looking for, at least for tonight.” She
grinned. “Apparently, he found someone else he wanted more.”
“His
loss.” He was
examining her with an unreadable expression, one that made her squirm.
Abruptly, his grin returned, and he gestured for another scotch, having
finished his second while she talked.
Sandra watched with a
fair amount of hesitation as he downed that drink almost as quickly as the
previous beverages.
Her uncertainty must have
shown, because he gestured to the empty glass. “It’s strictly therapy, and very
occasional.”
“Ah.” Did all alcoholics
say that? Until the day he died, her father had never admitted he had a
problem. She could feel herself withdrawing from Jake and began looking for
excuses to leave.
“You haven’t asked, but
I’ll tell you why I’m here. It’s related to the scotch.” His lips twisted. “I
was having dinner with my ex-agent. I thought it was going to be a strategy
session to plan out how to attract a new team after my knee heals by next
season. Turns out, it was his attempt to let me down easy.” His eyes darkened
as his gaze settled on the ice cubes in his glass. “At thirty-nine, with an ACL
injury, he doesn’t think I’ll find a new team. I’m no longer viable, so he
dropped me.”
Instinctively, she
reached out to place her hand on his. “I’m sorry. That must be awful.”
Jake shrugged. “Not as
bad as when my ex-fiancée, who broke it off with me while I was still in the
hospital, called Pete’s phone when he was in the bathroom. I answered, she
thought I was him, and spoke pretty intimately. All in one night, I found out
my ex-agent—who used to be my best friend—is screwing the bitch who left me
when she saw my NFL career coming to an abrupt end.”
Sandra winced, unable to
imagine how low Jake must feel after learning that. “Can I get you another?”
Jake laughed. “Nah. There’s no answer to what I’ll do with my life in the
bottom of the scotch bottle.”
“No,
definitely not.” Her hand was still on his, and she squeezed again. “Would you like to bounce
ideas off me? I’m a good listener. I usually charge by the hour, but I’ll give
you a free pass.” Sandra was thankful he hadn’t walked into her office for
therapy sessions, which would have precluded any kind of relationship besides
doctor-patient.
His eyes gleamed with a
strange glint as he shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t want to think about the
future at the moment. I just want to think about tonight.”
The way his pitch lowered
an octave raised the hair on the back of her neck and had her
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