“So is tonight the big night?”

Sloane leans over my cubicle, a big grin on her face.

“Can you keep your voice down?” I haven’t even been in the office twenty minutes and she’s already harassing me about my date with Mister Bigshot.

“What, you don’t want anyone knowing you have a date tonight?”

“Sloane!” I plead, looking around to see if anyone heard her. Jim glances over at us but then looks away, apparently uninterested in our antics.

“Come on, I want details! It’s been a lifetime since I went on a date. I need to live vicariously.”

“I don’t mind talking about it, just not in front of the whole office.” I’m the newest one on the team and people are still getting to know me — the last thing I want to do is develop a reputation as anything less than serious. Despite my distaste for Charlene, this is basically my dream job and I intend to rock it.

Sloane pouts. “Fine. Coffee later, then.” She leans over to look at the time on my computer monitor. “We’ll go at ten o’clock sharp. I need caffeine and gossip.”

“Fine,” I agree, laughing. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t let me say no even if I wanted to.

I work as diligently as I can for the next hour, even though my mind is having a hard time focusing on the words in front of me. My stomach is already knotted in anticipation of tonight.

When Sloane pops her head into my cubicle again, I’m actually grateful for the distraction.

“Let’s go,” she says but I’m already hopping up out of my chair.

As soon as the elevator door closes behind us, Sloane is on me.

“Are you going to sleep with him?”

“Sloane!” I act appalled, although the idea has definitely occurred to me. In fact, it’s been the only thing running through my mind for the last few days, ever since I agreed to the date. Would I sleep with him? Would he even want to once he met me?

“Come on,” Sloane says, checking her reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator and and tucking a stray strand of wavy blonde hair behind her ear. “You’re a modern woman. You’re allowed to have sex on the first date.”

“I know. I just … I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Psh. Men are never disappointed about getting to have sex.”

Ha. If only she knew.

“It’s just that I think he’s probably more experienced than I am.” I hesitate. “I’ve only ever been with one guy,” I admit.

“The ex-boyfriend?” Sloane has heard me mention him a few times.

“Matt. Yeah.” I take a deep breath. “I don’t think he thought I was very good at it.”

We step outside. Sloane squints but I don’t know if it’s at me or at the harsh sunlight. We both pull on our sunglasses. “Good at what?”

“It.” I hiss the word, praying she won’t make me say it.

Sloane stops dead in her tracks. “Oh, sweet Jesus. What makes you think that?”

I hesitate, but then finally spit it out. “He told me.”

“He…what?” Sloane sputters in disbelief. If I wasn’t so mortified, it might actually be funny.

Instead I nod pathetically. “It was part of why we broke up,” I whisper. “He said I had no imagination. No … passion.”

It’s humiliating to admit. Almost as humiliating as it was to hear those words coming out of Matt’s mouth… and that had nearly broken me.

I’d met him just after getting out of college, and he’d seemed like the perfect guy. Very sweet and handsome enough, and with a good job in finance — exactly the kind of guy I always thought my parents hoped I’d end up with some day. But as the months went on, he seemed to get more and more annoyed with the things I did. He’d complain about the time I spent with Ally, the nights I had to work late. We stopped going on dates. Then we stopped having sex. Then he stopped calling altogether. When I finally managed to get him to agree to meet with me, he told me impatiently that I bored him, and that he could never love someone who was so inherently dull.

I had cried for a month. And eventually I had to admit that it wasn’t because I was all that terribly sad about Matt. (He was a bit boring too, when you got right down to it). I cried because I was afraid he was right. That I was fundamentally boring. That I had no passion. That I would never stir a man the way other women could.

Sloane hands me my coffee. “Look, honey. Relationships take two people to work and two people to fail. If you weren’t passionate it’s because he didn’t make you feel passionate.”

I’m glad I have my sunglasses on so she can’t see the grateful tears welling up in my eyes. It feels good to finally tell someone about Matt. I don’t know if I necessarily believe her, but it feels good to put it out there into the world. Get some air on it.

“Now,” Sloane says, once we’re out of the coffee shop again. “I think you’re lucky to be rid of that loser. I think what you really need is to get back on the horse. And I think your internet lover is just the way to do that.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Oh God, don’t call him my internet lover. That sounds so gross.”

“Fine. Your online boyfriend? Your cyber hunk? Oh, I know, your digital dreamboat.”

“Please just stop talking.”

Sloane elbows me as she laughs. “I’m sorry. I’ll be serious. And I seriously think you should stop worrying and just get yours. Even if it doesn’t work out long term with this guy, it’ll be good to get your confidence back.”

“Maybe,” I allow, thinking about her words. “Maybe.”

Can I do that though? Just let go for a night? I have no idea, but I have a feeling I’m going to find out, one way or another.

After all, Mister Bigshot doesn’t seem like the type to take no for an answer.

* * *

That evening, I spend a ridiculous amount of time getting ready. We had made plans to meet at L’amour, a French restaurant on the east side. I model about eight different outfits for Ally and even though she insists each one is fine, I still end up changing three more times. I finally settle on a simple black sheath dress with a thin gold belt.

Remembering my conversation with Sloane, I take the extra time to shave my legs. Just in case. I’m not presuming anything … but just in case.

Once I’ve done my make-up and spritzed a soft perfume behind my ears, I lean over to give Ally a kiss goodbye.

“Have an amazing time,” she says. “Text me if you need anything. And if you’re going to be late.”

She winks and I groan. Why is everyone assuming I’m just going to fall into bed with this guy?

I take a cab to the restaurant so I won’t have to navigate the train in these heels, which are about three inches higher than anything I’ve worn before. When the driver pulls up in front of L’Amour, I take a deep breath. The cab driver is watching me in the rearview mirror.

“Can I ask you something?” I ask, before I get out.

“Sure.”

“Do I look like a boring person to you?”

He rolls his eyes. “Lady, I don’t know. I drive a cab.”

“Right,” I say, embarrassed. I start to get out of the car.

“Hey,” he says, leaning over. “You’ve got nice legs. I’ll give you that.” He’s smiling.

“Thanks.” I shake my head as I get out of the cab. What is wrong with me? This date has gotten into my head in a way that is seriously starting to scare me.

I want to say that Mister Bigshot is just a little online fling, but the truth is, I enjoy his messages. They’re sweet and sexy and funny. He’s sweet and sexy and funny.

And in a perfect world, he’s someone I could develop real feelings for.

But there’s only one way to find out for sure. I take another deep breath and pull open the heavy wooden door of the restaurant. The hostess, a beautiful dark-skinned woman in an ivory satin dress, gives me a cool smile.

“I have a reservation. Under L.M.” For Lovemail, he’d explained.

“Of course. Your other party is already here.”

I suck in my breath. This is really happening.

The hostess turns on her heel and starts to walk back into the restaurant. I scurry to keep up. The restaurant is dark and crowded and my eyes rove wildly around the room, trying to find a table with a single man, trying to figure out which one might be him.

Then I stop.

Freeze.

The hostess keeps walking but I can’t move a muscle. The rest of the room seems to fade away until all I can hear is my own heartbeat, thudding in my ears.

And the only thing I can see is him.

Mister Bigshot.

Only that isn’t how I know him.

I know him as Trent Whittaker.