Chapter One
There is a certain appeal to the thought that you can discover all you need to about a man in three minutes. If you ask the right questions.
Valentine Jones tapped her wineglass with short, teal fingernails. “So, tell me again, how does this work?”
Maggie Delaney grinned. “I knew you’d be interested.” She leaned back on the white leather sofa, slipped off her shoes, and tucked her feet under her. “We just arrive at the pub, fill in a card with contact details, and then sit at tables they’ve set up with score cards.”
“Score cards?” A shiver ran through Val at the thought of grading and being graded. Maggie was so keen on the idea of speed dating she’d signed both of them up for the event taking place this weekend in a little bar on the outskirts of Dublin. Now, as Maggie sipped her chardonnay with a satisfied smile, nerves fluttered in Val’s chest. Didn’t speed dating spell desperate? “I’m not sure I wanted to receive marks out of ten.” She picked up a tortilla chip and dipped it in salsa. “I mean…”
Maggie shook her head. “It’s not that type of score card. You simply tick yes if you want to see that person again, or leave it blank if you don’t. They do the same, and at the end of the night all the yeses are matched up. If you’re both interested, the organizers pass on the names and contact details, and after that it’s up to you.”
Val munched on another tortilla chip. “I’m not sure it’s my type of thing.”
Maggie’s head tilted to the side. She had that sympathetic look that made Val feel like a victim. “I know. But you can’t just give up on love forever. You’re too young and too good looking for a life of celibacy.”
Val forced a smile.
“I really think this could be fun, Val. Each meeting is just three minutes; surely you could bear to talk to a man for three minutes? Especially if he’s a hottie? You need to get out more. We’re both gorgeous, available women, and there must be men out there somewhere. Ones looking for fun without hiding a wife back home.” She winced. “I’ve had it with those.”
Being on the other side of that equation wasn’t a barrel of laughs either. Val refilled her friend’s glass. They’d both had terrible luck with men. The last two Maggie dated had been of the ‘married but ringless’ variety. And yet, despite evidence to the contrary, her optimistic friend still believed in love.
“Come on, say you’ll do it. For me,” Maggie said. “No one will get your information unless you want to see them again. It’s a win-win situation. And maybe by Christmas or Valentine’s Day at the latest, we’ll both have dates instead of sitting at home watching TV.”
“I like TV.” Val knew she sounded defensive, but really, the thought of Valentine’s Day with all its false love and store-bought cards filled her with disgust. Valentine’s Day was nothing to do with love; it was all about the money. Every year, a sentimental card with red hearts dropped into her mailbox. And every year, she ripped the envelope open, glanced at it, and threw it away. This year would be no different.
Maggie’s smile had faded. She played with the stem of her wineglass, and looked ready to throw in the towel.
Val pulled in a deep breath. She couldn’t disappoint her friend, and after all, what harm could there be to accompanying her to the speed dating event? Three minutes. And perhaps Maggie could find happiness. Could find love.
Val was surrounded by die-hard romantics. She’d grown up with one and now shared her home with a woman struck by the same blind affliction. She didn’t remember her father; he died when she was two, but her mother, Belle, always insisted that their love had been perfect.
So perfect that her mother had been desperate to find love again with someone new.
Unfortunately, Belle couldn’t distinguish lust from love, and had been burned so many times she should be sprayed with a flame retardant before leaving the house. ‘Love’ didn’t last beyond the first bloom of heart-pounding infatuation, and left heartbreak in its wake.
Val spent her entire childhood handing tissues to her sobbing mother after yet another boyfriend or husband had cheated. Had made herself hoarse telling her mother again and again to just give up on the crazy dream of finding her white knight. But Mum was all about love, all about happy ever after. She worshipped on the altar of love, had named her only child Valentine, and made sure to keep love in Val’s thoughts every year by sending her a Valentine’s card.
Despite the never-ending examples that proved her wrong, she still believed that the perfect man was out there, just waiting to be discovered.
I guess I can’t blame her. Even I bought into that fantasy, once upon a time. “Okay, I’m in.”
Joy shone from Maggie’s eyes.
***
“If you’re so determined to find a date, I’m sure I can find you someone.” Finn Logan glared at his cousin, Sorcha, undid his top button and loosened his tie. Sorcha’s family lived in England, and when she’d got into university in Ireland, Finn’s mother had assured her sister that Finn would be close by, and would make sure she was okay. Being a point of contact for his younger relative had seemed easy, until she’d actually landed up in Dublin. He ran a hand through his thick black hair and bit back a curse.
He really didn’t have the time for this. Or the inclination. But there was no way any cousin of his was going to enter herself into a meat market. Not if he had anything to say about it. As the closest physical family member, he had no option but to deal with her crazy escapades.
Sorcha’s baby blues opened wide. “You?” She pouted. “Like that’s going to happen. No-one you know is my type, Finn. Face it.”
Finn clenched his teeth down hard. “Connor has a younger brother.”
“I met him, he’s boring.” Sorcha tossed back her mane of long blonde hair. “Listen, I know you’re just looking out for me, but…” Her eyes searched the floor. “I want to meet a guy who’s into surfing, bungee jumping, having fun.” She pinned him with a stare. “Name one person you know who’s into that sort of stuff. Just one.”
Finn’s mind went completely blank.
“Yes, but speed dating.” These singles events were full of guys hoping to score a hot babe. His cousin would be exactly what they were looking for. She had no idea what men were like, none at all.
Her parents were to blame for that. They’d met when they were in their teens, married straight after college, and were completely wrapped up in their all-consuming love affair. Even now, when they should be providing a stable home for their nineteen-year-old daughter, they were off on yet another sun holiday. Sorcha kept telling Finn she was an adult.
She was anything but.
“Be reasonable, Sorcha, you’re too young.”
Sorcha planted her hands on her hips. “I’m nineteen.” Her bottom lip stuck out like a toddler having a tantrum. “You can’t stop me.”
Finn strode across the thick pile carpet to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a whiskey. “Sorcha…” he warned.
“Sorcha nothing.” She joined him, poured a splash of whiskey into a glass and tossed it back.
He smothered a grin as she coughed and spluttered. She hated whiskey, and her I’m-a-grown-up-too attempt at bravado failed spectacularly.
She slammed the heavy crystal tumbler on the table. “Fine,” she muttered. “I don’t like whiskey. That doesn’t mean I’m not a grown-up.” Her eyes glittered. “The guys at college are really infantile, Finn. I want to go on a date with a guy I at least like. “
Three weeks ago she’d called Finn in the middle of the night, after getting so drunk at a party she couldn’t see straight. The fact that Sorcha was paralytic didn’t seem to matter to the lowlife kid with his hand up her shirt. Instead of giving in to his baser instincts and punching the kid, Finn had gritted his teeth and pulled the boy off her with a muttered curse. He’d bundled her into his car and got her out of there. She was a kid. A crazy kid. Determined to experiment every vice going.
She was also vulnerable and lonely. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to move her out of her bedsit into his large Dublin townhouse, where at least he could keep an eye on her. His social life had certainly suffered as a result—he’d had to curtail his dating to set a good example, but she needed him, whether she knew it or not.
She shot him a poison-laced glance. “I’m living by your rules. I haven’t got drunk for ages, and it’s not as if I’m hanging out in clubs to try and pick up someone.” She tilted her head to the side. “With speed dating you have to rate your date. They only get your number if you both want to see each other again.”
Finn shook his head. “You have no idea.”
Sorcha’s eyes narrowed. A calculating expression flickered across her expressive face.
Finn’s stomach dived. Uh-oh.
She smiled slowly. “I knew you’d say that. That’s why I signed you up too. So you can keep an eye on me.”
***
On Saturday, Val buttoned her ankle-length black coat, and wrapped her overlong scarf around her neck a couple of times, leaving the remainder of the multi-colored garment hanging loose. Since summer, there had been never ending rain. By the time she made it home her leather shoes would be squelching with water, and her black hair would be plastered against her face.
Cleopatra to Medusa in five seconds flat.
There was nothing for it. She cast a smile over her shoulder. “See you Saturday.” John, her boss at the bookshop where she worked three days a week, nodded. Val squared her shoulders, pushed the door open and stepped out into the driving rain.
She gripped her car-keys tight as she fought to stay upright on the trek to the car. The rain was almost horizontal, spiking her face with sharp needles that stung her cheeks. Why on earth she’d parked in the far reaches of the car-park rather than next to the door….
A plastic bag, caught by the wind, plastered against her jean-clad leg. She bent and peeled it off, water dripping down her face and off her nose as she stuffed the wet plastic in a nearby bin. It could be worse; at least she’d have time to shower and change before the speed dating tonight.
Val pushed her wet hair out of her eyes, slid the key into the car lock, then jerked the door open and squeezed inside. The engine started first go. Shivering, she ratcheted up the heat to full.
She hoped to hell Maggie had got all the details right for tonight. She didn’t think she could face another evening like their last foray out to meet men.
Maggie had a thing about doctors. Too much ER, Private Practice, and Grey’s Anatomy would do that to a girl. No matter how many times Val painstakingly explained real doctors weren’t like the actors who played them, Maggie still held out hope of snagging her very own McDreamy.
When she’d spotted the event titled ‘Love Greys?’ at a hotel in the center of Dublin, she’d been adamant that they attend.
Val pulled a paper napkin out of the pile stuffed into the glove box for emergencies, and used it to squeeze the water out of her fringe. She glanced into the rearview mirror. Mascara ran in sooty black twin tracks down her cheeks. She dabbed the worst of it away with another napkin as her mind wandered back through time.
They’d dressed in scrubs, pink for Maggie, blue for Val. Accessorized with high heels, because there was no way to look sexy in scrubs without them. And when they’d turned up in the hotel’s function room, hadn’t quite known what to think, frankly.
No gorgeous doctors. No white coats. Just a few nervous looking people making awkward conversation.
“Let’s get a drink,” Maggie had said. The only choice on the drinks table set up in the corner was a large punchbowl full of a dubious red liquid with slices of floating orange bobbing on top.
They’d helped themselves.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Maggie muttered.
Love’s not worth the risk. Val kept her thoughts to herself as Maggie scanned the room for McSteamy.
Maggie squared her shoulders. “I’m going out there.”
“I’ll just…” Val sipped her drink, wishing it held at least a measure of alcohol. “I’ll follow you in a minute.”
A woman on her own hovered gripping a punch cup with white fingers. Val always hoped a stranger would make conversation with her if she was somewhere alone, so she struck up a conversation while Maggie stalked her prey.
“It’s not quite what I expected,” Val said in a low voice.
The stranger’s gaze pinned hers. She blinked rapidly. Swallowed. Then her mouth formed a wobbly smile. “Me neither.”
Silence stretched awkwardly for a moment.
“So, Love Grey’s?” Val asked.
The woman nodded. “I got carried away in the middle of the night.”
Val felt her eyes widen, and her eyebrows arch. Well, that was forthright, and sort of brave, admitting that she had such a pash for television doctors that she got carried away. “Oh, right.”
She glanced across the room to Maggie who was chatting to a tall, thin, intense looking man wearing a shirt buttoned up to the neck, with no tie. He peered at her through thick glasses and was punctuating his words with determined stabs of his hands in the air.
Maggie’s gaze met Val’s and the look on her face…
“I wanted to meet others, others who…you know.” The woman reached for Val’s arm and squeezed it tight. “Just to know that I wasn’t the only one. To feel less alone.”
Every atom of Val’s body urged her to brush off the other woman’s grip, to step back. But politeness held her in place. “Lots of people love Grey’s.” Her face ached from the plastered-on smile. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
The woman released Val. Her hand flickered to her mouth and she blinked rapidly. “I don’t know how to tell you how much that means to me.” Tears glistened in her eyes, and her top lip quivered.
Val glanced away. Maggie was striding back toward her.
“Excuse me for a minute.” Val slinked over to Maggie. “This is weird.” She glanced around at the doorway, where a couple had just wandered in wearing strange costumes, complete with gigantic plastic full head masks. “What the hell?”
“Dump the drink.” Maggie took the glass from Val’s fingers and put it on the nearest table. “Let’s get out of here. Now.”
With an apologetic smile at the nervous woman, Val allowed herself to be pulled out into the lobby.
“Apparently, this isn’t a Grey’s Anatomy party,” Maggie had said once they were alone.
“But, Love Grey’s…”
“Love Greys,” Maggie repeated with emphasis on the Greys. “As in, love little grey aliens. The guy I was talking to was telling me all about his abduction experiences.”
Surprise made Val gape. The only word that escaped was, “Oops.”
“Let’s go home. And if you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you!”
Now, Val wiped the condensation from the windshield of her Mini, and pushed the stick into Reverse. Hopefully this evening wouldn’t be a night like the Grey’s night. Hopefully, when she found herself sitting opposite a succession of strangers the three minutes would fly. And hopefully, Maggie would find a man, maybe even a doctor, to keep her warm at night, and stop her from dragging Val out on these dreadful excursions.
Chapter Two
“Come on, Finn, lighten up. This is supposed to be fun!” Sorcha patted Finn’s arm and looked around the crowded room with a grin. “You might even find someone…” Her words trailed off into silence as their gazes met.
Finn grimaced. “I’m not looking for a girlfriend right now.”
He liked his life just the way it was—he hooked up with Alison when she was in town, the willowy air-hostess didn’t want commitment or happy-ever-after, and they’d go to dinner then straight back to his home to bed. She knew all about Krista, his other part-time squeeze. In fact all his women were happy to take him as he was. He’d never lie to a woman, or promise them any more than he was prepared to give.
Casual worked. Why change it?
The sort of women who came to this sort of event were different. They were looking for more than a night between the sheets, they were looking for love.
Love was overrated.
The last thing he needed was a romantic entanglement. Business was booming. He and his partner Connor were designing three houses for private clients and in discussions over the build for a forth. His work was all-consuming. He sure didn’t have time for love.
Being in love dulled your instincts. Blunted your focus. Made a complete fool out of you. He didn’t have either the time for it, or the inclination.
“You might find a forever woman here.” Sorcha handed over a small white card she’d snagged from the desk.
A forever woman? The phrase made Finn think of pet rescue places that talked of forever homes for abandoned animals.
“Put down your details anyway. You never know.” Sorcha waggled her eyebrows at him.
Finn glanced around the room and breathed in deeply.
“Ladies, to the tables, please,” called a tall blonde who seemed to be running things.
“See you later.” Sorcha squeezed his hand. “Remember, just be charming. You’ll be fine.”
The row of women seated at desks seemed to stretch forever.
“When the bell rings, switch tables, gentlemen,” the blonde intoned.
With his stomach churning, Finn slid on to a hard wooden chair opposite a sultry brunette. “Hi, I’m Finn.” He reached to shake her hand.
“I’m Belinda.” Loaded lashes batted up and down. “I’m a model.” She sat up straighter, pushing her torso out slightly, causing the low-cut front of her sparkly top to gape. “Tell me about yourself, Finn, what do you do?”
“I’m an architect.”
Belinda’s eyes widened. “Ooo, You must be an expert on erections then?”
***
Every woman in the place was dressed to kill. Val dragged her bottom lip in and worried it with her teeth. And they all looked gorgeous. God, this was going to be humiliating. Would she be the only one here not to receive a single yes on her scorecard?
She glanced sideways at Maggie, hoping against hope that she would magically hate this whole thing too and suggest they did a runner.
Maggie gave her a double-thumbs-up.
Val stretched her lips in a parody of a smile, and focused on the piece of paper she’d brought with her. Maybe she should have dressed up more for the event. But jeans and a black tee with a skull dead center had seemed a good choice before she’d left home. She’d straightened the kink out of her short bob. Had made sure that the ends of her bangs hung straight just across her eyebrows. And had carefully traced her signature cat-eyed kohl around her blue eyes.
“Hi, I’m Andrew.” A man sat down opposite. A faint sheen of sweat beaded his upper lip, and his goatee trembled. He looked even more scared than she felt.
“Hi, Andrew. I’m Val.” Three minutes. She’d come prepared. There would be no casual tell-me-all-about-you bullshit on this table.
Five questions. Three minutes. And a yes or no decided.
Andrew’s adams apple bobbed. “So…tell me a little about you.” He propped tweedy elbows on the table, and stared into her eyes.
I’m a love-phobic divorcee. Val shifted on the seat and forced herself to maintain eye contact. “I work in a bookshop part-time, and I also work part-time for a photographer.”
Andrew’s eyes skimmed her body in a way that made her itch to slap him. “Are you a model?” He smiled. The sort of smile a snake might produce, if it were able.
“No.” Three minutes. “I’m a sort of trainee photographer.” Without the guts or the funds to make the transition to self-employed, but Andrew sure didn’t need to know that.
“Ah.”
Andrew looked as though he was about to ask her something else, so she quickly cut him off at the pass. “I thought the quickest way to find out if we have anything in common is if I asked some questions.” She waved her list in the air. “What do you think?”
Andrew leaned back. “Okay, sounds good.” A genuine smile tinged with what looked like relief lightened his features.
“Okay. Question one. What does Grey’s mean to you?”
Andrew’s forehead pleated. “Grey? It’s a color.” Getting into his stride, Andrew beamed. “Not a color I’m particularly fond of, mind. I go for black.” His gaze lingered over her chest. “Enlivened with splashes of primary colors. You know, for ties and stuff.”
“Um…” Time was ticking away, and she wasn’t getting anywhere. “Great. Question two, what’s your idea of a perfect date?”
Andrew’s hand slid across the table toward hers. She pulled back without making it look too obvious. “I’d have to say that having dinner with a beautiful woman would be right up there. And then maybe coming back to her place for coffee.” He winked.
A buzzer sounded.
With a grin, Andrew stood and moved on to Maggie.
Five questions were way too many to get through in three minutes. So for the next four singles Val mixed it up a bit, asking each of them different ones.
Unfortunately, the unspoken subtext seemed to be the same with all of them. It was as though they were all listening to a silent soundtrack inside their heads that consisted of ‘Let’s get it on’. As a result, she had nothing ticked on her scorecard. And from the numbers swelling the room, there must be another ten men still to go. She glanced around. Maggie was giggling, and quite a few of the women seemed to be going all out on the mating display.
Where’s a drink when you need one? Val puffed out a breath.
“Hi, I’m Finn.” A deep voice announced another candidate. Val’s head jerked front and center. And, as if someone had turned a dial, all sound in the room faded away.
Wow. The stranger before her had thick black hair, strong cheekbones, and a hard jawline. The eyes that met hers were deep emerald green. Val’s gaze dipped to his mouth that curved in a smile, forcing a dimple into one cheek. She swallowed. “I’m Val.” To her annoyance, her voice sounded husky.
He was wearing a heavy Aran sweater in dark blue. Acres of it covered a broad chest and huge shoulders. The man must be 6’4”—at least a foot taller than her anyway.
He pushed a hand through his hair. “So, I guess you’re going to tell me about yourself?” He actually looked bored at the prospect.
The hairs on Val’s arms stood to attention. If he was so bored, what the hell was he doing here? She pulled in her bottom lip and chewed it. Maybe it was just the prospect of whiling away three minutes with her.
She sat up straight. “I’ve been doing it differently,” she muttered. “I’m asking questions.”
His gaze flickered to the piece of paper she was holding. “You have a list?” One eyebrow rose.
“I have a list.” She nodded to make her point.
“And if I get all the answers right, I get your number?” Interest flickered in his eyes as he looked down at the paper, as if trying to read it upside down.
“Maybe.” Her answer was more than she’d given to any of the men she’d already met, but to be honest, he was the first one who had interested her.
His fingers flicked in a ‘bring-it-on’ gesture.
“Okay, first question.” She glanced down the list and picked number three. “Han Solo or Luke Skywalker?”
“Princess Leia.” His mouth twitched. “Next.”
“Take-out or restaurant?”
“Home cooked.” His eyelids half closed, lending a dangerously seductive quality to his face. “I grill a mean steak.”
Val rubbed a hand around the back of her neck. Is it hot in here?
“Disco dancing or waltzing?”
The dimple in his cheek made a brief appearance. “Neither. Can’t dance.”
She grinned. “You’re not very good at answering questions. These are two choice questions—you’re supposed to choose one.”
“Well, I’m pretty crappy at dancing, but if I had to choose one…”
“You do.”
“I’d go for waltzing. Or a slow shuffle so as not to show myself up.” His head tilted to the side. “Do I get to ask a question yet?”
They only had a minute or so left. And she had been monopolizing the time available. “I guess.”
Finn gazed at her mouth. Sparks seemed to crackle in the air between them, and attraction pulled the breath from her lungs at just that one, hungry look. “How many yeses have you ticked on your card?”
It seemed wrong to tell him, somehow, that none of the men so far had even sparked an ion of interest. But they hadn’t. She was here under false pretenses. Had no intention of finding a man tonight.
The thought of diving into the love pool after she’d almost drowned last time scared her witless. It was much safer standing on the side, if a little lonely.
“That’s sort of a personal question.” She crossed her arms and stared him down.
“I know.” He grinned. “But it’s the one I’m interested in knowing the answer to. And you only have seconds to answer it.”
“None.” There. It was out. She hadn’t chosen anyone to see again, and if that made her picky, so be it.
“Good.” He crossed his arms. “I haven’t said yes to anyone yet either.”
The bell rang.
He leaned forward and spoke in a deep whisper. “Tick yes to me. I haven’t finished with you yet.” He stood and walked on to the next table, not looking back or giving her an opportunity to reply.
The insufferable arrogance of the man! Her gaze was glued to his jean-clad behind as he walked away. Gorgeous, and he knew it. So not her type. Her gaze flickered down, Cowboy boots. What self-respecting man wore cowboy boots in Ireland?
A hot one, a little voice inside murmured. A very hot one. She was his yes? He hadn’t exactly said so, but he’d certainly hinted that he wanted to see her again.
“I’m Phillip,” a voice dragged her attention back to the table. “And I love walks in the moonlight.”
She glanced at Finn’s name on her scorecard. And ticked yes.
***
Nine dates later, and all Finn could think of was Val. As he said goodbye to yet another woman who hadn’t sparked his interest, he glanced over and caught her eye. She didn’t smile. Didn’t flutter her eyelashes. But a blush swept her face, and she crossed her ankles under the table before looking up at her next date.
She wasn’t his type at all. Small and slight, with a boyish build where most the women he’d dated in the past had been tall and curvy. Her hair was cut in a sharp black Cleopatra bob, and the way she outlined her eyes emphasized the Queen of Egypt effect. He grinned, and boy, was she snarky. She’d made no attempt to flatter him or catch his attention—which had more or less guaranteed that he was hooked straight away.
He shouldn’t be interested. But damn, he was.
“You’re my last date.” Fake lashes fluttered, and a rather orange-skinned brunette grasped his hand with long red fingernails. “I’m Bianca.”
“Finn.” He sat, tried to look interested, and wondered why on earth he’d flirted with a woman he had no intention of calling. I haven’t finished with you yet?
“So, tell me about your job.”
He answered the question Bianca asked automatically, but his thoughts flickered back to the woman who’d caught his interest. Jesus, what a corny line. When he’d said it, he’d been acting on instinct. The way Val looked, the way she asked her questions in that soft voice had been so different from the others. She’d bitten her lip and tried to hide the fact that she was attracted to him, where the others were full-on flirty.
He couldn’t help but be intrigued. Bianca flirted up a storm. Her low-cut top showcased a pretty spectacular pair of breasts. But he wasn’t interested. Finn couldn’t help comparing the way Bianca flaunted herself, to Val, whose black tee-shirt hid a lot more than it revealed. Val really didn’t seem the sort to speed date, not that he really had much clue of the type, but she seemed awkward, unsettled at being there. And she hadn’t ticked any names, although that could have changed, after all they’d both seen a lot of possible dates since their encounter.
The bell rang.
“Thanks, everyone!” the organizer called. “Finish filling out your cards please, and give them in.”
“It was good chatting to you,” Bianca fiddled with her hair and batted her eyelashes.
“Yeah, you too.” He shook her hand and looked around for Sorcha—his reason for being here in the first place. She was queuing to hand in her card, and chatting to a guy in front of her in line. Finn had seen that look on her face before. The ‘you’re-a-yes’ look.
Now was his opportunity to get over there and check out his cousin’s choice before the evening was over.
He glanced over to Val’s table. She was gone. In the melee he couldn’t see her anywhere. The excitement that had been building within at the thought of catching up with her again, burst like a deflated balloon.
A moment’s attraction had derailed his intention not to lead a woman on, and now she’d disappeared, robbing him of the opportunity to explain himself. He joined the queue and glanced down at his scorecard. A solitary tick yes. Maybe she hadn’t indicated that she wanted to see him again. If she had, he’d call and explain that he’d been strong-armed into coming along. That he wasn’t looking for a relationship.
It’s not you; it’s me.
He winced imagining delivering the words no-one wanted to hear. Damn, maybe he should just change his vote, avoid the whole thing. He remembered the look in her eyes just before he’d walked away. Her red mouth that had gaped slightly at his words, and the way she’d crossed her arms and blew out a breath that hinted of indignation.
Damn, she was sexy.
Has she ticked yes?