Page 118 of Secrets Beneath the Waves
EYE OF THE MIND
SARA DAVISON
Your eye is the lamp of your body…
See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness.
Matthew 11:34a,35
CHAPTER
ONE
The primal thump,thump, thump of the bass guitar pulsed through Jules Adler, as unwanted and unnecessary as a second heartbeat. She contemplated her reflection in the restroom mirror, re-applying lipstick, tucking a strand of short, golden-brown hair behind one ear, powdering her nose—whatever it took to delay the inevitable.
For courage—or, at the very least, endurance—she tugged the small silver locket that held the photo of her little sister out from her royal-blue blouse, rubbed her thumb over it, kissed it lightly, and then dropped it back into place.
When she couldn’t procrastinate any longer, Jules zipped her bag closed, yanked open the door, and headed out into the hot, crowded, noisy pub. Although she did cast a longing glance in the direction of the rear exit as she passed by, she forced herself to keep going instead of pushing out into the back alleyway and fleeing the premises.
Her mission, which she had definitely not chosen to accept, was to find the man whose face matched the one on her phone screen. The photo her friends Kelli and Brie—whom Jules had every intention of banishing from her life the second she could politely extricate herself from this fiasco of a blind date—hadsent her an hour and a half ago. Their way of blindsiding her with the fact that they had set up an online profile and agreed to this little rendezvous without her knowledge.
The dance floor was crowded and the tables, packed tightly together in the small space, mostly full. No one appeared to be here alone. Jules frowned. Not wanting to appear eager, or even remotely interested—since she absolutely wasn’t—she’d shown up fifteen minutes late. Was her so-calleddateplanning to arrive even later? Rude.
Jules would give it thirty more seconds, and then she would take his absence as a sign that this wasn’t meant to be. Not that she needed another sign. The fact that she had not and would not in a million years have initiated this little meet-cute, that her former friends, fed up with the fact that she had removed herself from the market a year ago—with good reason—had done it for her, was not making her any more receptive to the idea.
Twenty seconds.
One more scan of the room, and then she was out of?—
Jules’ gaze fell on a man dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, sitting in the far corner of the room, chair tipped back, arms crossed over his chest, head resting against the wall behind him, his eyes closed.
A hoodie? On a first date?? Oh no, no, no, no, no. Do not let that person, who couldn’t make it any clearer that he was even less happy to be here than she was, if possible, be the man her friends insisted was her ideal mate. Even they couldn’t be that far off. Could they?
She wasn’t able to see his face clearly across the room, although another quick glance at her phone suggested that the broad shoulders and short, dark hair were a match. Of course, a lot of guys could fit that description.
Out of sheer desperation, Jules took one last look around the room. With no other males sitting on their own, she drew in adeep, exasperated breath through lips pressed tightly together as she started for the corner. The sooner this farce started, the sooner it would end. In an hour—hopefully less—she could be back on her couch in her jammies watching thePride and Prejudicemini-series she loved for the umpteenth time and downing handfuls of popcorn.
When she reached the table, Jules stopped next to it and checked her device once more. Her heart sank. Definitely the guy. Dante de Marco. Which wasn’t a pretentious name at all. Jules cleared her throat, and he opened his eyes. Although he wasn’t quite chewing on a toothpick, the guy could not look less interested in anything in the vicinity. Including—maybe especially—her.
Heaving another sigh, Jules turned the device toward him. The live band was still blasting out some heavy metal song, so she leaned a little closer and raised her voice. “Dante?”
The man had the gall to release a similar sigh before pushing away from the wall, the front legs of his chair thudding to the floor. “Yep. Jules, I assume?” He twisted his arm to glance at his watch. “I was about to leave.”
Meaning her night would have gotten exponentially better if she’d delayed coming out of the restroom five minutes longer.Check your attitude, Jules.Brie’s admonishment when Jules had protested being forced against her will into participating in this debacle or risk all-out ostracizing from her friends barged its way into her mind.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Traffic.”
His response to that admittedly less-than-genuine apology was a wave of his hand toward the empty chair across from him. Since he didn’t appear inclined to pull it out for her or even perform that half-stand thing that a man with a modicum of respect or good manners might have, Jules yanked it away from the table herself and flopped onto it. Thank goodness she’d onlyspent twenty minutes choosing her outfit and applying makeup before heading out of her apartment. Even at that, about eighteen of those had been wasted, judging from the absence of a flicker of interest in the dark-brown eyes of the man across from her.
Given the stubble on his cheeks and his frat-boy outfit, he’d spent at least nineteen minutes less than she had getting ready for his date with her.
“Want a drink?” Dante jerked his head in the direction of the bar.
Although Jules wasn’t a drinker, she had never wanted to sayyesto that question more in her life. She did need to keep her wits about her while hanging out with a strange man, however. Besides, his glass appeared to be half filled with Ginger Ale. “I’ll have a Diet Coke.”
“Of course you will.”
Was eye-rolling a vibe? If so, this guy had it perfected. Without another word, he shoved back his chair and strode across the room.
