perfect hair, perfect features, perfect body, perfect clothes. Perfect.
“This is for you,” he said, handing me a white carnation from the wrapped bouquet in his other hand.
Perfect voice, too, although the carnation was a bit over-the-top. As soon as he was seated, I held out my hand. “I’m Abby.”
As an earsplitting whistle shattered the air, I realized my mistake and quickly pulled my hand back. Carmen marched over to scold me anyway.
Pointing her index finger at me, she said, “You’d better watch yourself. That’s the second time I’ve had to come over here.”
Knowing my face was bright red and that every eye in the room was staring, I murmured an apology, then couldn’t help adding, “The last time wasn’t really my fault, though.”
Her eyes flattened into slits of hostility and her mole quivered with ire. “I know that.” Casting a venomous look at the gorgeous guy at my table, she marched away.
“I won’t make that mistake again,” I told my date.
“Ignore her. She’s a bitch.” He gave me a brilliant smile. “I’m Jonas, by the way.”
He started our date by calling the EO a bitch? Way to kill a great first impression.
I watched Jonas pull back his French-cuffed sleeve to check his watch, a diamond-encrusted Rolex. “Okay, let me tell you a little bit about myself so we can get that part over with. I’m a University of Chicago grad, MBA from Harvard. I started out in real estate, then switched to land development, a smart move considering the growth in this part of the state. I work the entire tricounty area, turning unused acreage into viable public space.”
Viable public space? Was that developer talk for parking lots?
“I’ve never been married, but I’d sure like to be. I’ve got my career well established and can support a wife and children in a luxurious lifestyle . . . two cars and a four-bedroom house on forty acres. I love to travel, first-class, of course. And I love strong, independent women.”
I gazed at him in awe. Handsome, wealthy, educated— and hunting for a spouse. Could he be any more perfect? Glancing at his white carnation, I thought, Make that too perfect , and held off on revealing my reason for being there. “You certainly have great credentials.”
“What can I say?” He gave a large shrug, a weak attempt at modesty.
“You can say why you need to come to a speed-dating event to meet women.”
His smile never faltered. “If I didn’t, how would I meet fascinating women like you?”
Smooth.
Jonas gazed at me as if I were the most engaging creature he’d ever laid eyes on. “I’m betting you’re a nature lover.”
I was betting that was part of a pickup line. “What gave me away?”
“You’re like a breath of fresh air on a spring morning.”
Yep, a pickup line. I had the perfect comeback, too. “Being a breath of fresh air on a spring morning was my major in college.”
“No kidding,” he said, trying to look impressed but clearly not paying attention. “So, do you like Ferraris?”
“Love them. I’m something of a car nut. I own a 1960 Corvette convert—”
“You’ll have to see my Ferrari. It’s parked outside. A fully loaded F430 coupe in racing red with camel leather interior. Top-of-the-line in every respect”—he dropped his voice—“and priced at a cool two hundred thou and some change.”
Two hundred thousand dollars for a car? Imagine that. Was I impressed? Jonas sure hoped so. Awed? Nope. Bored? Yawn.
He held out one arm so I could examine the sleeve of his stylish dark gray suit. “It’s a Brioni. Also top-of-the-line. I won’t settle for less—in my life or my women. It’s got to be top-of-the-line all the way.”
I was starting to wish he was on the end of a line so I could use him as shark bait.
After Jonas, I met a young ad executive with green-stained teeth who told me he was a gourmand, loved to help out in the kitchen, and suggested I’d look wonderful wearing nothing but a
“This is for you,” he said, handing me a white carnation from the wrapped bouquet in his other hand.
Perfect voice, too, although the carnation was a bit over-the-top. As soon as he was seated, I held out my hand. “I’m Abby.”
As an earsplitting whistle shattered the air, I realized my mistake and quickly pulled my hand back. Carmen marched over to scold me anyway.
Pointing her index finger at me, she said, “You’d better watch yourself. That’s the second time I’ve had to come over here.”
Knowing my face was bright red and that every eye in the room was staring, I murmured an apology, then couldn’t help adding, “The last time wasn’t really my fault, though.”
Her eyes flattened into slits of hostility and her mole quivered with ire. “I know that.” Casting a venomous look at the gorgeous guy at my table, she marched away.
“I won’t make that mistake again,” I told my date.
“Ignore her. She’s a bitch.” He gave me a brilliant smile. “I’m Jonas, by the way.”
He started our date by calling the EO a bitch? Way to kill a great first impression.
I watched Jonas pull back his French-cuffed sleeve to check his watch, a diamond-encrusted Rolex. “Okay, let me tell you a little bit about myself so we can get that part over with. I’m a University of Chicago grad, MBA from Harvard. I started out in real estate, then switched to land development, a smart move considering the growth in this part of the state. I work the entire tricounty area, turning unused acreage into viable public space.”
Viable public space? Was that developer talk for parking lots?
“I’ve never been married, but I’d sure like to be. I’ve got my career well established and can support a wife and children in a luxurious lifestyle . . . two cars and a four-bedroom house on forty acres. I love to travel, first-class, of course. And I love strong, independent women.”
I gazed at him in awe. Handsome, wealthy, educated— and hunting for a spouse. Could he be any more perfect? Glancing at his white carnation, I thought, Make that too perfect , and held off on revealing my reason for being there. “You certainly have great credentials.”
“What can I say?” He gave a large shrug, a weak attempt at modesty.
“You can say why you need to come to a speed-dating event to meet women.”
His smile never faltered. “If I didn’t, how would I meet fascinating women like you?”
Smooth.
Jonas gazed at me as if I were the most engaging creature he’d ever laid eyes on. “I’m betting you’re a nature lover.”
I was betting that was part of a pickup line. “What gave me away?”
“You’re like a breath of fresh air on a spring morning.”
Yep, a pickup line. I had the perfect comeback, too. “Being a breath of fresh air on a spring morning was my major in college.”
“No kidding,” he said, trying to look impressed but clearly not paying attention. “So, do you like Ferraris?”
“Love them. I’m something of a car nut. I own a 1960 Corvette convert—”
“You’ll have to see my Ferrari. It’s parked outside. A fully loaded F430 coupe in racing red with camel leather interior. Top-of-the-line in every respect”—he dropped his voice—“and priced at a cool two hundred thou and some change.”
Two hundred thousand dollars for a car? Imagine that. Was I impressed? Jonas sure hoped so. Awed? Nope. Bored? Yawn.
He held out one arm so I could examine the sleeve of his stylish dark gray suit. “It’s a Brioni. Also top-of-the-line. I won’t settle for less—in my life or my women. It’s got to be top-of-the-line all the way.”
I was starting to wish he was on the end of a line so I could use him as shark bait.
After Jonas, I met a young ad executive with green-stained teeth who told me he was a gourmand, loved to help out in the kitchen, and suggested I’d look wonderful wearing nothing but a
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