Page 6 of Alien Knight Blind Date Disaster

She set her shoulders with renewed determination. She would get him to relax and open up while remaining emotionally detached herself, even if it killed her. Which it might.

Falden glanced down at the floor, at her tapping foot. “Those are very high heels.”

“Four-inch stilettos, as a matter of fact, and they perfectly match my dress.” They were her favorite—and sexiest—pair of shoes. Stretching out her leg to give him a better view, she turned her foot from side to side. He’d obviously dressed to show off his muscles. Flaunt his sex appeal. Two could play this game. Smiling flirtatiously, she continued, “I love the way they sparkle. Do you like them?”

Falden cleared his throat. Did he like them? Hell yes, he liked them. The strappy heels made him itch to touch her. He wanted to explore every curve, kiss every delectable inch of her. But how to respond? According to theNice Guy’s Guide to the Hookup, if a man was too nice, he would crash and burn. Never get the female. If he were on Lumeria or even Caldor, he would know exactly what to do. He would flirt. Play. Tease. Entice her into touching him first. Make his interest in her clear. He would pay close attention to everything she said. Protect her. Prove his worthiness.

On this planet? She’d already slapped him, and he didn’t even know if that was a good thing or a bad one. He was beginning to like thisNice Guy’s Guide to the Hookupless and less. She seemed more angry than interested, but he couldn’t afford to deviate from the plan for his own personal interests. He was on a mission. He needed her to trust him. Tell him what he needed to know. This wasn’t about her. Wasn’t about his need to claim her. Make her his forever. He had to keep that in mind. He’d committed himself to this path, even if it set his teeth on edge. Looking deeply into her eyes, he pushed ahead, murmuring, “Yes. They make you appear as if you are eager to be taken by a male.”

Isabella’s nostrils flared. Her heart hammered in her chest. Unadulterated rage and humiliation burned through her. Did he just call her out for wearing fuck-me heels? Her foot froze mid-twirl. “I believe any man who sees them should fear that I will remove one and stab him in the eye with the pointy end.” Investigation temporarily forgotten, she couldn’t swallow another insult. “Here. I don’t think you got a very good look at them. Let me show you.” Reaching under the table, she pulled off one of the heels, shoved it toward him andaccidentallyknocked his ice water right into his lap.

“I see.” Falden growled, brushing bits of ice from his pants. Every muscle tensed. His mission was failing. He could feel it. Isabella was not responding appropriately to the guide. He was losing control of the situation, which he could not afford to do.

He took a sip of the alcoholic beverage he’d ordered, as dictated by the ridiculous dating guide, coughed at the unfamiliar burn, then pulled at the mock collar of his shirt. He needed to up his game. Try again. Isabella was beautiful, even with the red wig. Perhaps she was so used to this approach that he needed to use more of the items on the list. Surely she would respond to one of them. She was a female, native to Earth. He would keep trying. Move on to phase two. A mix of insult and compliment. The guide said this phase was tricky and required practice, but he hadn’t liked the list to begin with and refused to use it any more than was strictly necessary. Hopefully he would catch on quickly. He was running out of time. He could feel it. “Your skirt is very short. I find your legs to be very appealing.”

“Excuse me?” Isabella glared. Was he calling her out on her skirt, too, or complimenting her legs? She’d never been so angry on a first date. Not that it was a real date. If this jackass was trying to get information out of her, or earn her trust, he was going about it all wrong. Not only did she not want to talk to him, she wanted to slap him so hard his cheek would burn red for a week.

Looking down at his wet pants, Falden jolted, remembering that part of the list included pointing out his pricey clothing. Make his wealth more obvious. “This clothing is not comfortable. I should not have worn this. I should have worn my arm many.”

Isabella sat back, darkly amused. Maybe this guy was just an idiot in general. But why was he here? “Arm many? Is that Caldorian for waterproof?”

His gaze was deadly serious as he raised his blue eyes to her sparkling brown. She was happy. He was making progress. “Arm many are much finer clothes. The best money can buy. Have you not heard of such a famous human clothing expert?””

Isabella’s brief flash of humor vanished. She stewed. The man had no sense of humor. None. Worse, his words were meant to draw her attention to his wealth, yet his body language was not that of a man obsessed with his appearance or status. What the hell was up with this guy? “Do you meanArmani?”

“Yes. That is what I said.”

The waiter arrived with an extra glass of water along with the whiskey and placed them on the table, removed empty glasses and discreetly handed Falden an extra napkin, presumably to take care of his wet trousers. She considered slamming the amber liquid down her throat as she had the first, but sipped instead. She needed her wits about her. She doubted she’d even finish the second. Something was not right about this guy. Her bullshit radar was screaming at high alert.Arm many? Really? And he was sporting a watch that would cost her two years’ salary, but it looked brand-new, like he’d just taken it out of the box. Literally. Not a scratch, a smudge, nothing.

She squinted, looking closer. Was the thin protective plastic still covering the face of the watch? Had he forgotten to remove it, or was he so completely uninterested in the human device that he simply hadn’t realized it was there? Why had he bothered with a human watch, even an expensive Rolex, when he probably had some kind of alien gadget that was far superior to anything Earth had to offer? The other aliens she’d met in the past few weeks while she was infiltrating their black market hadn’t cared anything about wearing human clothes or accessories. What game was he playing? She sat back in her chair. What. The. Hell?

Falden enjoyed celebratory drinking as much as the next man, but never when he was on a mission. The silence lengthened as Isabella occasionally sipped at her drink. He scowled with real concern as raised the second glass of Scotch to her full lips. He was worried about the effects of such a strong alcohol on a female of her stature. He was much bigger than she. Stronger. He could easily crush her. Hurt her. He would never do such a thing, butshecouldn’t know that. This small female was furious one moment, amused the next, then brooding. He was fascinated. And worried. Deviating from theHookupguide to share his genuine fear for her, he leaned in and murmured, “Should you be consuming a mind-altering beverage around a male you do not know or trust?”

She scoffed. Was he going to insult her, then pretend concern for her? “Critiquing my drinking habits now, are we? Besides, you ordered it, remember? Afraid you might have to carry me out of here?”

He sat up straighter and took her hand, his tone serious. “Of course I will make sure you arrive home safely. You should not travel alone after drinking. It is not safe. You are learning to trust me. I will protect you,” he vowed, realizing he meant every word. Whatever she’d gotten herself involved in, he would find a way to keep her safe. “I have a human transport vehicle parked in the back.” Falden paused, his brows furrowed in concentration. “An impressive transportation vehicle of a sort that you should like. I’m told it is considered very fast, for humans.”

Isabella’s eyebrows rose a notch higher with every word out of his mouth. She was equal parts shaken and incredulous. His eyes said he was being straight with her. He was worried about her and wanted to protect her? She melted just a little. But then, who was he kidding? What girl hadn’t heard that kind of cheesy line before? Was this guy actually trying to impress her with a car he knew nothing about? Was it even his? She didn’t know how to respond, so she went for a question. “You mean a hot rod? A sports car?”

“Of course. That is what I said.” This time he took a sip of Scotch and managed not to choke, although his face did turn an interesting shade of pink.

Isabella absently twirled a piece of hair around her finger, thinking hard. So, he ordered Scotch but didn’t drink it, wore expensive clothes made for humans instead of Caldorians, drove a type of car he probably knew nothing about, and thought insulting her was going to win him points? This made zero sense. “What color is it?”

“You said you would be wearing a red dress for our… ‘date’ this evening,” he said, pausing, “so I chose a red one.”

“I see.” What kind of game was this alien playing? Lifting her water glass to her lips, she stopped to give a small salute to the two other aliens who were either simple observers, friends or bodyguards. Both males immediately averted their gazes, seemingly engrossed in their menus, which was perfect because it gave her a moment to inspect them from head to toe. Yes, she’d been correct the first time. All three of them were wearing the same shirt. Same pants. Same damn shoes.Exactlythe same.

Weird. So, who was this guy? Really? Who could afford all this stuff? Who was playing whom? Why was he here? How did he gain access to the cash needed to purchase the high-dollar shoes, the Armani clothing, the Rolex and the car? Her previous contacts hadn’t seemed nearly as well-to-do. They were middlemen. Sleazy, with cold, shifty eyes. They’d given her the creeps from the start. But not John.

Isabella sighed. She couldn’t be sure, but based on what she’d seen so far, she didn’t doubt a red sports car was, in fact, parked behind the restaurant. He had spent a lot of money to play this game with her, and she was determined to see where it might end. Damned if he didn’t test her patience to the limit, though. She took a deep, calming breath.

“Have you ever been claimed by a man?” Falden asked in a low, sexy tone, surprising himself with the question as much as her.

Isabella froze in her seat. “What did you just ask me?”

He leaned in, pleased when she did the same. “I suppose in Earth language I asked if you are a virgin.”

Isabella leaned back, crossing her arms. “That’s what I thought you meant. Gee, I don’t know. Are you a prehistoric caveman?”

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