This first date with Lance should have been perfect. And it almost was.
Almost.
Lance was incredibly handsome, with warm hazel-brown eyes and a strong, chiseled jaw. His dark blonde hair was cut in a stylish fade that he touched up frequently. He was perfectly groomed, from his hair to his collared shirt, free of any holes.
He was also smart, toned, tanned, and he smelled amazing—just the right amount of cologne. The man even chewed with his mouth closed, pulled out her chair, and was a great conversationalist.
On paper, he was perfect.
Yet she felt no tingles. Perhaps, though, tingles were overrated. Or maybe, sometimes, tingles took longer to develop. That could be it. She was accustomed to instant chemistry. Patience was needed.
Jayna knew that chemistry alone was not enough for a successful, long-term relationship. But damn, chemistry was so much fun.
In the past, she’d had chemistry with so many men and look where that got her. Nowhere. Case in point, she’d even had chemistry with Derek Brennan. Chemistry was truly deceptive if she could feel it with a man she hated. Or a man that she’d once hated because after spending so much time with him, she wasn’t sure that was true anymore. After lifting the curtain on his entire bad-boy act, the man had proven to have way more depth than she’d given him credit for. And wow, could he kiss!
Whoa, Jayna, get your head back in the game, she silently reprimanded herself. Lance was the prize she’d worked so hard for. And she’d won. He was a great catch. Leaning over, she lightly brushed her lips across his. He startled, but then deepened the kiss.
Wait for it.
Come on, tingles.
She wiggled her toes.
Nothing.
She pressed her lips harder against his, and he reciprocated. His lips were soft, firm, and tingle-free.
As the kiss ended, she leaned back in her chair. It had been a decent kiss. He didn’t slobber. It wasn’t overly wet or too dry, and he had fresh, minty breath. The kiss was nice. But the Bunsen burner didn’t light.
Maybe it just needed more fuel.
“Hey Ivy, can I have another margarita, please? Do you want another cranberry and vodka?” she asked Lance, trying not to cringe as she said it. Who the hell other than twenty-something university girls ordered cranberry and vodka? Lance was going to get kicked out of the boys’ club if he wasn’t careful.
And speaking of the boys’ club, in walked Derek Brennan, the head of it. He wore stonewashed jeans and a stony face. The bad boy looked like he was in a bad mood tonight as his eyes flicked over her. But damn, he made a tattered T-shirt look good.
Head in the game, Jayna girl.
Lance Roman was the man for her.
Derek Brennan was the man for no one. That was a fact she needed to remember.
Derek broke her heart once and once was more than enough. He was her past, and Lance was her present. Lance was her wonderful, incredible future.
But hell, if her past wasn’t heading straight toward her present.
No way!
Turn the hell around, Brennan, her eyes shot a silent warning in his direction.
Derek’s grin only increased, and damn if it didn’t cause the Bunsen burner to light.
“Evening,” he said. His voice was low and gravelly, scraping her insides in the most delicious way. And it just wasn’t fair. She was sitting with Mr. Right, trying hard to feel something, anything. And up walks Mr. Completely Wrong, and all the feels start up.
“I’m Derek,” he held out his hand to Lance, who glanced up, confusion showing before he accepted the hand.
“Lance Roman. Nice to meet you.”
“No hard feelings that you stole my girl.” Derek winked.