Page 3 of One Naughty Night (Single in South Beach)

She could call him a chauvinist all she wanted. He had every intention of running interference for the newcomer-— at least until he convinced her she was out of her depth in these shark-infested waters.

Swearing off women didn’t mean he couldn’t help out a lady in distress. Or possibly introduce himself after he’d given her a hand. He had a pulse, after all.

And, damn it, he wasn’t a monk.

* * *

Esmerelda wonderedif it was too late to back out of the blind date thing when she spied the man in a slick suit walking toward her. He shared the same reedy, too-perfect good looks as her former boss, an association that brought a wave of nausea to her already quivery belly.

She forced herself to stand still, however, determined not to follow her instincts tonight. If this guy turned out to be Hugh Duncan, she would find a way to survive it. Then again, her date might be very nice despite the strong cloud of musky cologne that reached her long before he did.

Her lovely neighbor Mrs. Wolcott assured her Hugh was a perfect gentleman.

Straightening her spine as the man approached her from the right and opened his mouth to speak, Esme jumped when another voice intervened.

“I’ve been keeping an eye out for you.” The warm, masculine rasp emanated from her left. Somehow she’d missed this man’s approach in her fear of turning her back on Mr. Reedy.A shame considering the newcomer looked like a page on a girl’s pin-up calendar. She had never possessed such a thing herself, but in the many hours of her life she’d spent ensconced in bookstores, Esme had most certainly spied hunk calendars. This guy, with his dark hair, even darker eyes and sexy bronze skin should have been in one of the “Studs of Italy” editions. Although she could picture him as a “Sexy Firefighter” type too.

Not that she’d memorized her favorite titles or anything either.

“You’ve been looking for me?” She wondered if her voice conveyed a pathetic amount of hopefulness. Glancing back and forth between Mr. Reedy who’d taken the liberty of ordering a drink for her already and the Italian stud who possessed killer muscles and yet not a hint of aggressive body language, Esme crossed her fingers that the Italian stud proved to be Hugh Duncan.

She cast a pointed look to her left,awayfrom the overpowering cologne of Joe Slick. “I’m Esme Giles. Are you Hugh?”

The guy to her right bristled, raising himself a little taller in his polished leather shoes as he shoved a drink under her nose. “Hey Esme, how about some sex on the beach?”

She struggled not to roll her eyes. Had that ever worked for him before?

Before she could reply, the Tall, Dark and Delicious man inserted himself between them to face her.

“I’mthe one you’re looking for.” He nudged the reedy guy’s glass aside with one hand while smoothly steering Esme toward the back of the club and away from the other man.

Totally presumptuous. Although in this case, considering the over-aggressive vibe of the suited dude, maybe a little sexy. Part of her was grateful for the assistance since she’d been getting a sinus headache from the other guy’s cologne overload, but she didn’t appreciate being led around by the nose. Or in this case, the elbow.

The new Esmerelda had every intention of calling her own shots and following her own path in life.

She stopped just before they reached a secluded table, refusing to go farther until she’d confronted her rescuer.

Whirling on him, her skirt fanned out around her legs, the resulting breeze creating a delicious draft up her dress. But as she faced him again, she was struck anew by his sexy good looks. The bronze skin, the dark eyes, the longish dark hair. His sharply sculpted face was full of hard angles, relieved only by the soft fullness of his mouth.

And despite the serious feminine competition all around, this guy had noticedherand stuck around long enough to help her out of a sticky situation. Maybe she shouldn’t be too tough on him.

Clearing her throat, she tried to remember the neighbor’s description of Hugh and failed. Any mental vision she might have formed had somehow transmuted into the hard edges and impressive shoulders of the man standing in front of her. “I’m sorry, but did you say you were my date?”

“You’re meeting a blind date?” His dark eyebrows knit together. “In this meat market?”

What a perfectly eloquent assessment of the place. Club Paradise was lushly beautiful with its rich appointments and clever lighting, but the atmosphere in the lounge was a bit—sexually overt. “Itisa meat market, isn’t it?”

He grunted something unintelligible under his breath as a group of dancers clad only in strategic white feathers breezed past them.

She noted that his gaze didn’t stray to the expanse of exposed feminine flesh passing almost under his nose. If anything, she was more curious about the feathered dancers than he seemed.

Appreciation for meeting a real gentleman— something far too rare in her experience— warmed her to her toes. Plus he’d obviously known she was meeting a blind date. Pleasure curled through her at the thought that she had found her man.

This was Hugh after all.

Lifting to her toes, she couldn’t help but ask, “If you think Club Paradise is such a pick-up joint, why did you want to come here tonight?”

“This wouldn’t have been my first choice, that’s for sure. Who was it you said you were meeting again?” He glared around the room as if surprised to find himself here.

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