The music is pumping and the bass vibrating through my body, creating a pulse that makes me want to dance to the R&B groove. But I hold back, settling for tapping my toes as I sit at the bar, attempting to blend in with the mass of people out to get their Saturday night freak on. I’m dressed to blend, sexy but not too sexy in my midnight blue dress that hugs my thighs as I sit and shows off my chest without being vulgar. In the sea of bright colors and dangerously exposing dresses, mine is almost classy.

I scan the crowd as I sip on my club soda with lime, a cover because most folks will assume it’s a gin and tonic. But there will be no drinks for me. I need to keep my wits about me tonight. I’m not here to socialize and meet a guy for a meaningless hook-up. I’m here working, a thought that has me checking out my target across the room.

Keith Perkins. Country Music Star and sexiest man in this club tonight. But he carries an air of ‘fuck-off’ on his broad shoulders as he dismisses woman after woman brave enough to approach him, not even offering one of his notoriously dimpled smiles as a consolation prize before sending them off. The lights bounce wildly off his bald head as he perches against the secondary bar, seemingly content to just observe the fun and not interact with the people around him.

Maggie touches my arm to get my attention in the din of the club, “Hey, how’s your friend that’s dating the smooth-talking sex guru?” She’s got a bit of a blonde airhead affect happening with her voice tonight as cover. She’s actually scary-smart, but knows how to play up different personalities so well that people often underestimate her. “She seemed nice when I met her before.”

“She is nice, and doing really well with her relationship-guru of a man.” I remark, thinking how happy I am for my friend who recently went from shy and nerdy to badass goddess with a dirty-talking hottie. My eyes track back over to Keith, wondering if he’s a dirty talker too. With a dreamy sigh, I remind Maggie, and myself, why we’re here. “But right now, we gotta work. And he is the reason I’m here.”

Maggie follows my eyes and shivers as she looks at Keith. She flashes a big, flirty smile across the room. "Mmm, just as hot as I remember him from last time. And he's even bigger in person than he seems on TV. I bet I'd only come up to his chest!" She says it like it's a good thing . . . a very good thing.

"You gonna be able to keep it together and not fangirl tonight?" I chide her jokingly. "We need to be professional."

“Please girl, don’t act like you haven’t thought about the fact that Keith Perkins is built like a sex god in cowboy boots,” Maggie says. “Damn you, how’d you get this assignment again?”

“It’s not really an assignment. Not yet anyway. Just me doing my due diligence and crossing my fingers before I pitch the idea,” I reply, keeping my eyes on Keith.

Maggie is actually right though. Keith is built like no man I’ve ever seen, tall and broad, but with a narrow waist. Even dressed, I know without a doubt there’s at least a six-pack and those Ken-doll lines that make women stupid on his abdomen. Tonight, he's a bit incognito, skipping his usual country gear of a cowboy hat and boots in favor of something a bit more urban. His untucked button-down clings to the slabs of muscles on his chest and arms like it was custom made for him, and his black jeans are crisp and look fresh with the black lace-up boots he's wearing.

“Ooh, hey . . . check it.” Maggie says, lifting her chin to gesture across the room in Keith’s direction. “Is that bitch making a move on him?”

“Yup. And cue the hair flip . . . oh, and there’s the seductive suck of the straw in her drink. Oh no, she’s going for the light touch on his forearm.” I grin to myself, already knowing where this is heading. “Let’s see. In three, two, one . . . denied." I look to Maggie, taking a sip of my drink, "That's the fourth one tonight. Definitely the hottest of the lot too."

“Thought you swung towards men,” Maggie teases. “Then again, maybe Keith does too?” She gives him an evaluating look.

I shake my head, watching as Keith heads up to the VIP section, the crowd parting for him easily as if they sense his scowling presence moving amongst them and get to safety. “That man? No fucking way. Either he’s straight, or he’s the best actor since Rock Hudson.”

“Who?”

“Old school guy, never mind,” I explain. “My grandmother thought he was the cat’s meow,” I say with air quotes. “Finding out he was gay crushed her.”

“Yeah well, your grandmother didn’t get to meet Keith Perkins. She’d have perked up in a jiffy,” Maggie says. “I really wish I wasn’t already on an assignment and we could partner up on this.” She looks up at the railing where the VIPs can look down at us peons, sighing dreamily.

“Don’t you even try it, Keith is mine. All mine,” I tease.

We stay in the club for another couple of hours, until most of the men in the crowd are either too drunk, or too desperate, to read our signals that we’re not interested.

Then again, most of the women aren’t getting Keith’s signals either, and as midnight approaches, he leaves the club the same way he came in. Alone.

“Well, that’s it,” I reply, tossing back the rest of my drink. “You wanna stick around or are you done for the night too?”

Maggie, who’s a lot shyer than she looks right now and has an innocent streak about two miles wide, shakes her head. “Nah, I have to get home anyway. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow, and I don’t want to start it by kicking some one-night stand out of bed.” She grins and I laugh, knowing I’d easily bet a whole paycheck that she’s never had a single one-night stand in her life. “You going to keep checking up on Keith?”

Grabbing my purse, I walk towards the door with her. “Yeah, I’m going to head home and do some more research on him. I want to have my pitch ready for Donnie.”

As I’m heading out, a random guy grabs my arm as I pass. “Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven, because you look like an angel . . .”

I pull away, snorting derisively as I look him up and down. I add every bit of menace to my voice I can muster, which decidedly isn’t much. “Hands off, asshole. I’m no angel, but I can be your worst nightmare if need be.” Ugh, what’s with guys thinking some cheesy line and an unwelcome grab is going to work?

I need a real man, one who just speaks from his heart, not in pickup lines. It wouldn’t hurt if he was tall, broad, and had a bit of a country twang too. I’m grinning to myself at that fantasy as I bid Maggie a good night and we hop in separate cabs to head home.