Page 36 of Rum and Rendezvous

This guy had potential. COCKtailCupid seemed like my perfect match. But that couldn’t be, could it? Because Carson was. Was it possible to have two? According to his profile, he was only slightly older than me, worked in the service industry, loved musical theater and baking, and quiet nights at home spent with someone special. His all-time favorite movies listed were the same as mine! And we both had a thing for gourmet cuisine and fruity cocktails.

It was like my twin had responded to my ad. Carson and I had nothing in common, but we still clicked on every level. It has been said that opposites attract. Would I like dating my clone? Or would I be bored without the challenge of trying to convert Carson—I mean a stranger—into appreciating my tastes while learning about theirs?

Only one way to know for sure. I would give this dating app one last chance to match me with Mr. Right. I responded, typing out a message to meet up this weekend.

* * *

COCKtailCupid hadn’t senta picture of himself. His profile pic was a frosty pink drink. I had no clue who I was meeting, but something about our limited interaction felt—big. Like, maybe this could work? What if I was getting dressed to meet my future? I laughed at myself as I stood in my bathroom, using my hand to wipe an oval in the steamy mirror. Reid would totally feed my ridiculous fantasy, which was why I hadn’t called him. I needed a dose of reality, but I hadn’t called Carson either. I was keeping this date close to the vest. If I didn’t spread it around, plotting and hoping, maybe I wouldn’t feel too disappointed when it didn’t work out.

I went all out, rubbing lotion into my skin, styling my hair just right. A dab of Tom Ford in the hollow of my throat, the tobacco and vanilla notes teasing my nose. The slim-fitting black pants hugged my ass deliciously, according to Carson, and I paired it with the blue pajama shirt to highlight my eyes and lure his gaze to the vee of my chest.

I was ready. More than ready. With a deep breath, I grabbed my keys and locked the door behind me. Tonight was the start of something new. Either beginning something wonderful with COCKtailCupid, or the end of my online dating life and a second chance with Dennis. Either way, I would embrace my future and leave Carson Carrick in my past.

The Lounge hadthe same soothing but energizing vibe I’d become familiar with. The soft lavender recessed lighting and mellow jazz relaxed me, yet the place was buzzing with lively conversation. The night felt full of possibilities.

Shannon greeted me at the bar.

“Hi, I’m waiting for my date. Is Carson working tonight?”

“Nope.” His deep voice sounded like he’d gargled with gravel, rough around the edges, like him. “I’m covering for him tonight. What can I get you?”

I felt relieved since I’d kept the date from him. I wouldn’t have to endure his prying, judgmental eyes, sizing up my date and spitting him back out. “Can I have an Appletini, please?”

Shannon snickered as he mixed my drink. He was probably fond of drinking vodka straight from the bottle. He looked as if he could stomach it with a grin. When he slid the drink in front of me, I smiled at the twisted apple peel garnish. I sipped it slowly, relishing the sweet zing on my tongue. If only I knew who I was meeting. I sat and sipped, scanning the crowd, waiting for someone to claim me as their date when Shannon tapped my shoulder.

“The table in the back of the lounge is reserved for you. Your date should be here shortly.”

A thrill of excitement coursed through me. Had they called ahead? The gesture was so romantic. So personal. No one had shown me such consideration in so long. I slid into the upholstered booth and took in the stage. A woman dressed in a gorgeous red gown sang bluesy music, accompanied by the piano. I lost track of time as I listened, falling under the spell of her seductive voice. Until Carson joined me, sliding into the empty space beside me.

For a quick, crazy second, my heart flared, hoping he was here for me, but then I panicked, thinking he was going to derail my date.

“Look at you, all dressed for bed. Is that where you were hoping to end up?”

He took in my blue shirt, his teasing green eyes sparking with hunger.

My heart raced with panic. “You have to go. Leave. I’ll call you later.” I practically shoved him from the booth.

“Hold up, Boytoy. Not so fast.” He chuckled, slow and deep, like he’d anticipated my reaction. “This is for you. I’m sorry it took me so long to get it right.”

Carson held out a flaming pink rose. My breath caught in my dry throat. Was this real? Maybe I was dreaming, still asleep in my bed. He leaned in and kissed my cheek, his soft lips lingering on my skin. “W-What are you doing?” He dragged his lips across my cheek, seeking my mouth, and whispered his words against my lips, light as a feather.

“Showing you what it’s like to be on a date with the right guy.”

Carson nudged his tongue between my lips, seeking entry, and I opened for him. His tongue slid against mine as he deepened the kiss, velvet against silk, as he made love to my mouth with the slowest, most sensual kiss of my life. I lost all sense of reason as his mouth moved against mine, seducing me, owning me.

It was several more moments before I remembered we were in a public place, and I was waiting for my date to arrive. It wouldn’t make a great first impression if he saw me with my tongue down Carson’s throat. I pushed at his chest, gasping for breath. Lust blanketed my head like a thick fog.

“Stop, Cary. We can't. I'm waiting for someone.”

He pulled back, looking dazed and slightly amused. “Oh yeah? Who?” He traced the vee of my shirt, dipping his finger inside and pulling the fabric away from my body to peek down my chest.

I scooted away, putting a safe distance between us so I could breathe. Think. Function.

“My date.” I craned my neck, looking for a man approaching my table, praying to God he was late.

Carson moved in, erasing the barrier I’d created. “Tell me about this guy. Is he your perfect match?”

“Yes, actually.” Carson’s eyes roved over my body hungrily. He looked like he wanted to wear me as a blanket. “He’s not much older than me, and he likes the same music I do.”

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