Page 9 of No More Heartbreakers

Dance with the Devil

Friday night at the Rock Bottom

It was definitely him. Aric Amore. The guy from the resume reel I’d seen earlier today.

Had to be. He was with Dennis, and he looked exactly the same. Well, actually, he was even better-looking in three-D than he’d been on screen.

I went from hours-at-the-bar-mellow to hyper-alert instantly. My insides vibrated like a cell phone set on silent. From my seated position at the end of the table, the DJ’s colored light setup framed Aric’s blond hair, giving him a sort of retro-Disco halo, like a 1970’s album cover you’d find in a vintage records store.

My God, ifthatwas a good look for him, what wouldn’t be?

I’d never experienced such an instant attraction to someone. It wasn’t love at first sight, because that didn’t exist. But it was definitely… something.

Dennis took a few steps away to greet a viewer who’d come to shake his hand. Aric stood alone, the tips of his fingers in his jeans pockets, glancing over our group with raised brows and tightly pressed lips. His eyes followed Dennis like he was a life preserver that had floated just out of reach.

Then Aric’s gaze fell to me, and he gave me an uncertain smile.

Ohsugar. That smile. It wasgood. Good in the way hazelnut gelato and one-hour massages were good.

Well, it didn’t matter. He could be the second coming of Henry Cavill, and it still wouldn’t excuse the fact that he’d nearly run me down in the road and hadn’t cared enough to stop and apologize or even check to see if I was hurt—or perhaps smeared down the center like lane like so much reflective striping paint.

And I was going to have toworkwith this guy. Every. Weekend.Ugh.

So then. We weren’t going to be friends, but wewereco-workers. I could be civil. I could be professional.

I couldstop staringlike a total idiot and say something.

Aric beat me to it. “Hi.” He extended a hand toward me. “I’m Aric, the new sports guy.”

Rising from my chair, I offered my hand in return, keeping my voice and demeanor cool. “Heidi Haynes.”

He towered over me, looking down with a lifted brow and half-smile on his face as if he’d expected there to be more of me when I stood up.

His large hand enclosed mine, sending a surge of warmth all the way to my toes. Aric leaned down, bringing his face closer to mine to avoid shouting over the eighties’ loudest hits.

“I just got into town today, and Dennis told me to come by the station for a tour. Hope it’s okay I’m crashing your party.”

Oh God, there was thevoiceagain, but this time in living, breathing, surround sound. Hearing it, I literally shivered in the overheated nightclub.

I gathered my senses enough to answer, “Of course. I mean, it’s not my party. It’s for Kenley.” I pointed at her. “She’s moving to Atlanta. And that’s Mara. She’s a dayside reporter. Mare,” I yelled to her over my shoulder.

She turned toward my voice then popped out of her seat with wide eyes and two arms raised in the air, forming a celebratory V. “The Man Candy!”

Aric looked at me quizzically.

I shrugged, turning back to him. “She’s been drinking for several hours.”

Janet noticed Aric and hurried over. She raised her voice to address the table. “Everyone. Hey—everybody, can I get your attention for a minute? I want you to meet our new weekend sports anchor, Aric Amore.”

“Hi Aric,” several people chimed in together, dragging out the words as if we were in some kind of Addicts Anonymous meeting.

Brad cupped his hands around his mouth and faked a disaster-movie warning shout. “It’s not too late. Save yourself.”

Everyone laughed, and I reclaimed my seat while people took turns introducing themselves to Aric. It was almost funny how the other girls hung on his every word, laughing at things that were barely funny,literallydoing that fluttering eyelash thing I thought only happened in cartoons.

After the introductions were all made, Aric pulled up a chair next to me. I shifted my shoulders away from him and basically ignored him as the conversation around the table bounced from his long drive from Minnesota, to Southern food and college sports, back to Kenley’s move and wedding plans.

At one point, he leaned forward and slightly across my body to address a question to Kenley. He didn’t smell like a guy who’d been driving all day—must’ve showered before coming over.

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