Not Quite Dating (Page 14)

Not Quite Dating (Not Quite #1)(14)
Author: Catherine Bybee

“So let me get this straight. Rich, not too fat, self-made, young…did I leave anything out?”

“He’s gotta like kids.”

Jack blew out a long breath. “That’s a tall order, darlin’. You sure that kind of guy is out there?”

It was a lofty list. “I’m not sure of anything, Jack. This was your idea.” Her tone was short.

“OK, all right, don’t get all defensive. The night’s still young.”

She glanced at her watch. Actually, it was past eleven already. And no one new was walking in the door.

“Gray suit, just stepped up to the bar,” Jack pointed out.

The man in question had his back to her, and Jessie waited for him to turn around. When he did, she skirted her gaze away. “That nose. Lord, what a shame.”

Jack laughed and so did she. “That’s a honker.”

“How can he see past it?” she asked.

“Not sure he can.”

One of the female guests walked up to Jack and picked up a piece of shrimp he had on his tray. “These are divine,” she cooed as she plucked it into her mouth.

“Glad you like ’em, ma’am.”

“Ma’am. Goodness, that makes me sound so old.”

Jessie figured the woman was in her forties. The sequined dress she wore sparkled when she walked. Her fingers dripped with diamonds. When her eyes traveled up one length of Jack and down the other, it was all Jessie could do to keep her eyes from rolling in disgust. Could she be more obvious?

“I was brought up to be respectful,” Jack told the woman as his gaze passed over her without as much as a hint of interest.

“Oh, and a cute accent, too. How delightful.”

Jessie wanted to laugh. Next thing you know the cougar will be slipping her room key into Jack’s pocket.

“Do you want another one?” Jack asked the woman, leaning the tray toward her.

Her eyes rolled up and down his frame a second time before she finally said, “Would I ever.”

Jessie lifted her hands and glanced at them, wondering if she was invisible to this woman or if she was always so rude.

“Ah, Jack, don’t you need to stroll around the room with those?” Jessie asked, doing her best to pull his attention away from the surgery-stabilized woman.

“I suppose I should,” he said.

Jessie nudged him, which resulted in a cheeky grin and a chuckle as he walked away.

Cougar-lady watched his ass as he left their side. “Yum,” she whispered nearly to herself.

“He’s a little young for you, don’t you think?” Jessie asked.

Cougar-lady’s eyes shot to Jessie, seeing her for the first time. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I always make it worth their while.”

The way she spoke, Jessie realized this woman used men like Jack to suit their needs, never worrying about appearances. Her dress and jewelry pointed to a fat checking account or a high limit on a credit card. Jessie wondered if Jack ever took women like this one up on their offers of sex, a good time, and probably some type of monetary gain from the whole arrangement.

What did that make Jessie? Here she was looking for love with a pocketbook, and the cougar-lady was looking for loving using her pocketbook.

Suddenly the wine in Jessie’s glass tasted like vinegar. “Excuse me,” she said, shifting around the woman and setting the near-empty glass on a table.

The room grew warm. Jessie wandered out to the twinkling lighted veranda where some of the guests mingled. Guilt and a little disappointment in her own agenda made her want to leave. She was using Jack and his good-natured way just as much as the cougar would if given the chance. When had she become so shallow?

Maybe this is a mistake?

Attempting to shake her abruptly shifting mood, Jessie took in the breathtaking view of the gardens and the lit pond with koi swimming around in circles. She leaned over the railing to see one of the orange fish disappear between two rocks.

When she stood up, she realized someone had joined her.

“Hello,” the sharply dressed man said to her once their eyes met. He was tall, about Jack’s height, slender, almost too much so. He had long fingers that looked as if he played the piano.

“Hi,” she managed.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.” His easy smile was nice, but brief.

“No, just getting some fresh air.”

“I’m Brad,” he said, extending his hand.

“Jessie.” She allowed him to shake her hand. He let go quickly.

“It is a bit stuffy in there. Are you out here waiting for someone?”

Testing the waters, Jessie thought, and flirting with her, if she wasn’t too far out of the game to notice. His hair was darker than Jack’s, but not in a bad way. He definitely wasn’t from Texas; not a single twang to his voice.

“No, not really.” Even saying that felt strange, like maybe she should say she knew one of the servers. Then again, she was there to meet someone. Hadn’t Jack invited her to do just that?

“Good, then maybe you won’t mind if I join you.”

Did she want that? Brad wasn’t unappealing, but there wasn’t much about him that screamed attraction. When he smiled, the spark didn’t reach his eyes, not the way Jack’s eyes danced when he laughed.

She really needed to stop comparing the man to Jack. Jack was the waiter; this man was a guest. Still, her concern that Jack could round the corner and catch her talking to this guy made her feel wrong somehow. It shouldn’t, she realized, but it did. Bad form to be wearing a dress one man picked out for her while another man was flirting with her.

“I’m actually about to leave, but it’s been nice meeting you.”

A flash of disappointment spread over Brad’s face. “Are you just saying that, or do you mean that?” he asked.

“I mean it. It’s late, and my…my sitter needs to get home.” OK, that was a crock. Monica didn’t need to go anywhere. Jessie had learned early on that talking about her sitter was a good way of telling a prospective date that she was a mother without the awkward Do you want to date a single mom conversation.

Brad glanced at her left hand.

“I’m not married,” she informed him, saving him the trouble of asking.

He smiled again. No dimples, no spark to his brown eyes. At least she thought they were brown. It was hard to tell with the dim lighting.

“How old are your children?”

OK, he didn’t run screaming. Not a bad sign.

“Child. I have a son. He’s five.”