Page 1 of One Naughty Night (Single in South Beach)

ChapterOne

Bad decision number five thousand thirty eight—overdressing.

Esmerelda Giles rocked back on the low heels of her sandals and sighed as she watched the parade of half-clad bodies strut down Ocean Drive toward the swanky new dance club that would be her destination tonight.

Even though the hands on her antique silver and turquoise watch pointed to 11:32 p.m., the well-lit street hummed with activity. A steady stream of cars rolled down the avenue at a snail’s pace to see and be seen. Foot traffic converged on Club Paradise from every direction as if all of South Beach wanted a chance to meet and mingle at Miami’s most risqué hotspot.

And every single person Esme laid eyes on wore considerably less than she did.

How could she have made such a mistake after spending at least forty-five minutes deciding what to wear for this totally out-of-character blind date?

Esme fingered the featherweight silk of her outfit—a vintage bohemian dress she’d unearthed at a consignment shop on one of her antiquing outings. The gossamer garment ranked as the most seductive item of clothing she’d ever owned, yet it looked like a schoolgirl’s frock next to the sexy get-ups sported by every woman in line at Club Paradise’s side entrance across the street.

Once again, Esme’s judgment had been faulty.

Surprise, surprise.

In the weeks since she’d lost her job, her car, and a little bit of self-respect along with her life’s dream, Esme had been trying really hardnotto exercise her own judgment. In fact, following the implosion of her previously well-ordered life, she’d realized that every decision she’d ever made had led her to this collision course with disaster. Therefore, she couldn’t trust her gut.

Which accounted for her new desire to do theoppositeof everything her instincts suggested.

For example, she would have never considered going on a blind date before, but now as she waded through the rubble of her old existence, she’d decided to try it. She’d accepted her kindly new neighbor’s matchmaking attempt and had agreed to meet the woman’s nephew at the Moulin Rouge Lounge inside Club Paradise tonight.

Yippee.

It had helped sweeten the deal that Mrs. Wolcott had also offered Esme a comp room here tonight from a gift certificate the woman had won in bingo. So at least Esme would have safe territory to retreat to if her date didn’t work out. And considering how crappy life had been lately, just the free room in a swanky hotel was worth the trip to South Beach. For tonight at least, she could enjoy air conditioning set to as cold as she liked and hot water for a long shower she didn’t have to pay for. Total perks.

While she stood on the street corner where the bus had deposited her and debated what to do about her overdressed condition, Esme was jostled by a pack of young men. She stepped aside quickly, mindful that she needed to quit dreaming and pay attention to her surroundings. A tall guy with spiky hair and a red silky T-shirt swept past her making breathy littlepsstsounds at her in the way one might call to an animal.

Is this how people communicated attraction these days, or was the man trying to insult her with his catcall? God, she was so out of touch with the real world. She hadn’t been on a genuine date since grad school and even then she’d only gone out with history geeks who were as socially inept as her.

But no more.

Tonight marked a symbolic change in Esme’s life. A new mode of thinking, a new take-charge attitude. She’d thought the way to keep her touchy-feely former boss at bay was by buttoning up to the gills in conservative suits and layers of clothes, but Mr. Too Many Hands had probably read her insecurities in her wardrobe and thought he could help himself.

Steam hissed through her as she remembered those moments trapped in his grip and the ugly fallout of her resistance. She’d been fired in short order for sexual harassment even thoughhehad been the one harassingher. Using his techno skills, her ex-boss had managed to manipulate the company computer system into generating manufactured obnoxious emails supposedly from her to him. And now here she stood a week later.

Pissed and unemployed.

But ready to make a few changes in her life.

Stepping back into the shadows of an alleyway between two of South Beach’s historic, ice-cream-colored art deco buildings, Esme decided to make a few last minute adjustments to her wardrobe before she embarked on her date. The little overnight bag she planned to drop off in her complimentary hotel room before her midnight rendezvous didn’t include a change of clothes other than the casual outfit she’d wear tomorrow.

And frankly, she didn’t even want to cross over to that swanky, sexy side of the street looking like she did right now. She couldn’t do much about overdressing since she had no intention of stripping off her dress. But ditching another item of clothing might make her feel a little more daring and a lot more naked.

Reaching beneath her blouse, Esme unhooked her white lacy bra and wriggled out of the straps one arm at a time. Her barely 34Bs didn’t really require the support and somehow going braless seemed even more bold than baring a little midriff.

Old Esme never would have taken such a risk. New Esme planned to do just the opposite.

Flinging her bra off to one side to drape across a stainless steel trashcan, Esmerelda Giles prepared to meet her blind date—one Mr. Hugh Duncan, journalist—with a serious take-charge attitude.

And possibly a little jiggle.

* * *

“Renzo,no woman is ever going to snap you up with that kind of antiquated attitude.” Giselle Cesare, head chef at Club Paradise and part owner of the popular singles playground, stirred her teriyaki sauce and glared at her older brother.

“Since when has it been my mission in life to get snapped up?” Renzo stood propped in the half open door shortly before the resort’s main kitchen closed for the night and stared out over the writhing, wriggling bodies on the dance floor of the Moulin Rouge Lounge. He reached behind him to poke his mouthy sister in the ribs and steal a hunk of bread from the crusty Tuscan loaf sliced on the counter beside her. “I’m swearing off women since Celeste anyhow, remember?”

---