I finished putting on my eyeliner feeling irritated. How on earth had I been talked into going on a blind date? But of course I knew – my best friend Dana was nothing if not persistent, and I had finally given in rather than listen to one more phone call about how it was time for me to start dating again. She had decided that some man she worked with was just perfect for me and every time I saw her she would ask me again if she could set us up. I figured I’d go out on this one date, tell her how absolutely horrible it was, and that would be the end of it.
I ran through what Dana had told me about my date. His name was Rich, he did something or other in the computer field, he was sweet, a good dancer, and according to Dana he was drop dead gorgeous. I dismissed this as a ploy to get me on the date, but she insisted it was all true. “Honey, the man has had stalkers. Trust me.” This, however, made me even more convinced that the date would be a disaster. All the truly gorgeous men I’d ever met had also been conceited jerks, so I wasn’t holding out too much hope that this one would be any different.
As for myself, I knew I wasn’t model beautiful, but I was certainly attractive. I had large enough breasts to be able to show cleavage without a special bra, shoulder length mahogany brown hair, and deep green eyes. I laughed easily, moved gracefully after years of dance lessons, and I’d been told more than once that I was a natural flirt.
I sighed as the doorbell rang. Time to get this over with. I grabbed my purse, shoved my keys and a lipstick in it, and opened the door. My breath caught for a moment as I got my first look at the man standing in my doorway. Dana hadn’t exaggerated, the man certainly was gorgeous. His blond hair looked silky and flopped down almost over his eyes. A white button down shirt showed off broad shoulders, a powerful chest, and tapered to a washboard stomach. His jean clad legs seemed to go on forever, and bulged with muscle. I looked up into blue eyes that sparkled with good humor, and felt a blush rising in my cheeks as I realized I’d been staring.
“Hi, I’m Rich,” he said, holding out his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Dana’s told me a lot about you.” His hand was warm and slightly rough against my own. The shiver that ran down my spine warned me that this man affected far more than I had counted on. Firmly reminding myself of the dangers of handsome men, I summoned a smile and walked out to his car with him.
Two hours later, any thought that Rich might be a conceited jerk had completely been laid to rest. We started with dinner and talked as easily as if we had known each other for years. Everything and anything was open for conversation, and his easy-going light-hearted manner charmed me completely. After dinner we played pool. My smile became a bit more predatory as we walked in the pool hall – I had grown up with a pool table in the basement and many men had underestimated me. I loved showing them their mistake.
“What do you want to play for?” I asked. He raised an eyebrow at me. “Makes it more interesting if there’s some sort of stake involved, don’t you think?” I gave him innocent eyes.
“Well,” Rich said while carefully chalking his cue, “if I win I’d like a kiss.” He shot me a quick look to see my reaction.
“And if I win?”
“What would you like?”
I grinned at him. “Definitely a backrub. Sound fair?”
He smiled back at me. “Fair enough. You break.” He was being a gentleman. He shouldn’t have. He was calm enough as I broke and two solid balls dropped into pockets. He merely smiled as I sank the next two. By the fifth ball however, he was looking at me with frank admiration. That was it for me. Any man who could watch me run the table with no other expression than sheer appreciation was worth my fascinated interest. We played three games, and he managed to win the last one.
“You owe me a kiss,” he said as he sank the last ball. I smiled up at him.
“I believe you owe me two backrubs first.” I looked around the pool hall. “This doesn’t seem to be quite the place though. Would you like to come back to my place?” I held my breath, hoping I hadn’t misjudged his attraction to me. Fortunately my suspense was short lived.
“I’d love to. Let’s go.” He took my hand as we walked back out to his car. His thumb brushed lightly over the delicate hairs on the back of my wrist as we walked. The small touch seemed to promise much more, and anticipation curled in my belly.
When we got back to my apartment, Rich sat on the couch and pulled me to sit on the floor in front of him. Big, strong hands covered my shoulders and began rubbing gently. I closed my eyes and surrendered my body to the relaxing touch. “There’s an art,” Rich said softly, “to backrubs. The key is to use the whole hand, not just the fingers.” He pressed the heel of his hand to the muscles under my shoulder blade and began rubbing in small circles. I could feel my body letting go of the tension of the day. A small smile touched my lips as my head fell forward, giving him better access for the massage.