Page 39 of Love Undiscovered
“I’m on a date.”
“Figures you’d scope out other women while on a date.”
“She’s not here yet.”
“Uh huh.”
He clears his throat and nods toward Harley. “Who’s your friend?”
“Sorry,” I say. “That’s rude of me. Harley Reynolds, this is Chance Bauer. Chance, Harley. Chance is a policeman—”
“Detective,” he says.
“And Harley owns a yoga studio where she teaches,” I say.
Chance looks her up and down as well, the smile on his face is, dare I say it, downright charming. Harley blushes prettily. I have to admit, she wears a blush well, it looks good on her.
“What are you lovely ladies doing here this evening?” Chance asks.
“We’re on a date,” I say.
“With each other?” he asks. “I like it. Care to make it a threesome?” He waggles his eyebrows at us.
“I doubt your date would approve,” I say dryly.
“Not with each other,” Harley says awkwardly. “We are waiting for our dates. We aren’t, well, you know.”
“Idon’tknow, actually,” Bauer says. “Care to enlighten me?” A devilish smile on his face. I turn my back to him and take another drink of my martini. He takes the seat next to me.
“Really?” I ask. “Must you sit here?”
“Seat is open, and you ladies are enjoyable to look at. I’ll be the envy of every man here,” he says.
I roll my eyes at him. He’s so annoying.
My phone buzzes. I look down, it’s a text from Alex.
I lean over to Harley. “Alex just texted me, he was just in the restaurant restroom and will be here in a sec. His friend is already in the bar. Look for a guy with blondish brown hair in a gray suit.”
I peruse everyone whose reflection I can see in the mirror on the back wall of the bar, seeing no one that fits the description. I wish I could swallow the lump of nerves that is lodged in my throat. Harley turns slowly in her stool, looking around, then elbows me lightly in the side. I turn to her. She gestures toward Bauer, who is sipping his bourbon and watching the room.
“What?” I ask.
“He’s in a gray suit,” she whispers. “And he’s got blondish-brown hair.”
I look Chance up and down. She’s right, his suit is gray.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say his hair is blondish-brown,” I whisper back, hoping, beyond hope, that I’m right. “Maybe more light brown with blondish highlights?”
“Which is pretty much what blondish-brown is though, right?”
There is no way Chance Bauer is my date.
I look at him again.
Gray suit? Check.
Blondish-brown hair? Check.
