Page 12 of No More Heartbreakers

The elite players, the sexual Heisman candidates, genetic freaks who produced bionic pheromones capable of turning even the smartest girl stupid, at least temporarily.

A heartbreaker.

How could I not have seen it right away? The beautiful face, the enticing scent, the self-assured way he walked and talked and danced.

If I could’ve left the club right then, I would have. But I’d promised to drive Kenley and Mara home. I couldn’t strand them. Instead I fled to the restroom and gave myself a narrow-eyed look in the mirror.

Not going there, girlfriend. Not again.

I did not return to the dance floor.

Aric danced for another song then left the floor, in spite of loud protests from the girls. He came to our table and sat across from me with the other guys, ordered a beer, and made small talk with them.

“So, you don’t look Italian,” Tony said.

Aric laughed. “No—I get that all the time. My dad’s Italian, but my mom’s Swedish.”

“And you’re from California?” Brad asked.

“Well, I’m from all over the place, really. We moved a lot when I was a kid, about every year or two. But when I was in high school my mom and I moved to Los Angeles, where my grandparents live—I graduated there, so I sort of claim it as home.”

“Wow. Every year or two—that would suck,” Brad said.

“It was all right.” Aric put on a big grin. “I have a short attention span.”

“I’llbet,” I muttered under my breath and turned away from the guys as they laughed.

Brad and Tony tried to draw me into the conversation a couple of times. I gave one-or-two-word answers and kept my focus on my crazy friends, who were now doing the electric slide.

Some middle-aged guys had eagerly slipped into Aric’s spot, and in their happy-tipsy states, my friends didn’t seem to mind. It even looked like Mara had located a potential new himbo.

When the song ended, I glanced over to find Aric looking at me.

“Get tired of dancing?” he asked in a soft voice.

“Yes. Tired.” I looked away again, silently willing my friends to run out of party steam so we could leave.

When they finally wore out and Kenley had declared it an “epic” good-bye party, our group shuffled toward the exit door.

“When are you actually starting work, Aric?” CeCe asked, sidling up to him.

“Tomorrow. I’m going in early afternoon for training.”

“So is Heidi,” Kenley told him.

Aric gave me an interested glance.

“Um, yeah. I’ve been at the station almost a year, and I’ve filled in on the anchor desk during the week a few times, but I’ve never produced and anchored a show myself. Allison’s teaching me the producing part tomorrow, and the studio crew’s going to re-set the lighting for me.”

“Yes, because you’re just a wittle pocket-anchor.” Kenley used a baby-talk voice and gave me an off-balance side-hug. She actually was quite a bit taller than me.

“How tall are you?” Aric looked me up and down. “Five feet?”

“Five two and a half.” I lifted my chin, straightening my back and shoulders.

“How big areyou?” Mara asked him, the gleam in her eye spelling out her real meaning.

Aric chuckled. Her not-so-subtle connotation wasn’t lost on him. “Six-four.”

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