Page 37 of One Wrong Move

It only takes me a few minutes to glance around the room in search of potential partners. There are several beautiful women here—plenty of them around my age, a few younger, and some perhaps older. Nate is in his late thirties. But he could pass for a thirty-year-old rather than thirty-eight, and I wonder…

“Okay,” I tell him.

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Okay? What’s happening now?”

“I’ve done some reconnaissance. The hostess was definitely checking you out on the way in.”

Nate’s voice turns into a drawl. “Was she now?”

“Yes. And there are at least three women here I think would be interested in you. The one a few tables down, with the large drink? She’s glanced at you twice in ten minutes.”

“Damning evidence,” he says.

“Oh, laugh all you want, but I know women.”

“Mm-hmm,” he says again. Twisting slightly in his chair, he surveys the bar. The place is pretty packed. It feels like the kind of place Nate would frequent regularly. Or Aadhya from work. A place to see and be seen.

A tenuous silence falls between us.

And I feel just a tiny bit stupid. He has always been kind to me. We’ve gotten along well. But now, we’re sitting here, at my behest, just so I could thank him for his generosity. Lord knows he probably has ten other things to do rather than sit here with me.

His home is beautiful. I couldn’t be more grateful… and a part of me wonders, looking at him in my peripheral view, if he kept his promise. Or if Dean knows exactly where I am.

I take another long sip of my wine. “So what kind of women are you interested in? Or men, perhaps? Both? That would give me twice the options.”

His eyes glint with amused patience. “I’m attracted to women.”

“Okay then, I suspected that, but one shouldn’t assume.” I tap a finger along the rim of my wine glass. “And what are you looking for?”

“What makes you think that I’m looking at all?” he asks.

I swallow. “Maybe you’re not. That’s totally fine, too.”

His lips curve. “Tell you what, I’ll let you know the type of women I’m interested in dating if you spill about the kind of guy you’re looking for.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Me?”

“Yes. Only fair,” he says. “If you’re to be my wingwoman, I’ll need to return the favor one day.”

I shake my head. “I’m not looking to date.”

“Maybe not right now,” he says offhandedly and takes another long drink of his gin and tonic. “But you will be in the future.”

The thought is… true. Even if it feels very distant right now. Way in the future.

I dig my teeth into my lower lip. “Okay. You describe your ideal woman, and I’ll do the same.”

His eyes glow. “And I’m supposed to go first?”

“Yes! We’re talking about you dating.”

Nate chuckles. “Why don’t you tell me what you think I want. If you’re that great of a wingwoman.”

I roll my eyes. “You know, you can be really frustrating sometimes.”

He grins crookedly. “I know. Now come on, lay it on me.”

I cross my legs. Look at him thoroughly, assessing. Take my time. “This feels like a trap,” I finally say. “But okay. Judging from what I know about you… and what I’ve heard… you date a lot of beautiful women. I believe there were at least two models and one C-list actress.”

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