Sheila Galloway is always in trouble when it comes to love. Perhaps it is her penchant for picking the unavailable, the bad boy, the married man, or the guy who has no love for her because he loves himself far more. She longed to find that fabled "N...
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"Now you know what you need to do, right?" Sheila asked as she straightened the collar of James' shirt. Dressed all in black, to accentuate his dark looks, he was dressed to kill.
James nodded in acknowledgment of Sheila question. He didn't trust himself to speak feeling as nervous as a fifteen-year-old boy going out on his first date.
"You'll do just fine," Sheila said noticing the tension in his stance.
"Whether or not this works, I just want to say thanks for all you help," James said looking down at Sheila. The honest sincerity of his voice took her by surprise. "After all, I've already let one great girl getaway." The regret of his words shown in his eyes.
Sheila coughed to clear her throat from the emotion that welled up. She smiled warmly at him and stepped away. Giving him one last go over. "I think that does it. You're ready."
Christian entered the hotel room, closing the door behind him. Lanie's left her suite. She looks to be headed for the hotel's lounge. James nodded curtly. This was it. It's was time to get his woman back.
As Lanie entered the cocktail lounge several of the male occupants ceased their conversations to stare at the beautiful blonde, bolstering Lanie's confidence. She spotted Wesley by the bar and made her way over to him.
He noticed her right away. How could he miss her? As she neared, he whistled softly in appreciation causing Lanie to blush to almost the shade of her dress. "You're a vision," he told her. He stood and pulled out the stool beside him for her to sit.
"Shouldn't we be going to dinner?" Lanie asked nervously.
"I put in for a reservation but I was told there's still about a ten-minute wait," he informed her nonchalantly. "I figured we could grab a drink here and maybe... talk awhile. Perhaps, get to know one another a little better."
"Oh, okay." Lanie precariously perched herself on the stool locking her heel in place to help keep her balance. "I'll have sweet vermouth on the rocks, please," she informed the bartender who turned to fill her order. Wesley had taken up his position by her side again.
He was staring at her so intensely she started to squirm under his gaze. Although his eyes never roamed she still had the feeling he was envisioning her naked. She turned away from him to take a sip of her drink grateful the bartender made it strong.
"You must be a model with a body like yours," he said.
Lanie let out an indignant, most unladylike snort, before saying, "No, I'm not."
Wesley shrugged at her tone. "I was just curious as to what you do for a living? I didn't think mentioning that you have a beautiful body would be insulting."
Lanie began feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. Glancing at her watch they still had five more minutes until dinner. Jumping on his line of questioning she asked, "So, what do you do for a living?"
