Chance was a very lucky man.

There was a near 100% probability that Juliet was going to sleep with him by the end of the night, something she never did on first—or first and one-quarter—dates.

It went against all the odds, at least based on Juliet’s past dates. Chance was right, he was nothing like the men she’d dated in the past. They’d all been doctors and lawyers and professors and insert-other-white-collar-job-here types with whom she’d waited the appropriate amount of time before giving up the goods.

Maybe that’s what made it so easy for her libido to take the wheel right now. Chance was different. She couldn’t tell if it was because he would be so easy to move on from—when she returned to her usual “safe” prototype—or because he would be so difficult to move on from.

There was also a lot of hard evidence backing that libido up. The first being that this was the best date she’d been on in a long time, if ever. Butterflies and ice cream. She wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it was.

The fact that they were now sitting in a hotel pretty much cemented the deal. It contributed to the current 97% probability that, yes, sex would most definitely happen.

And it wasn’t just any hotel, but the ZaZa, one of the ritziest hotels in town (definitely a firm 5% of that 97%).

Juliet rewound the past 24 hours in her head and analyzed every scenario, interaction, statement, look, touch, factor, and variable that had led up to this point.

There was the moment she had first met Chance, standing so close to her that she could smell his aftershave (3% there. Juliet had always had a weakness for men who smelled nice).

Then there was the body underneath that button up shirt and jeans, combined with that absolutely killer face (A bona fide 15%).

Then she had let slip the part about the butterfly center last night. In retrospect, it may not have been such a slip-up after all (10%).

Then she’d blurted out her name. That didn’t mean much, except to diminish any probability that poor Simon would be getting any action (N/A).

Singing during spin class (5%, mostly from the endorphins).

Coffee with Shayla who she knew would prod her into doing something about this (5%, mostly because her friend was a firm proponent of sex on the first date).

The white dress Juliet had picked out this morning, which was one of her better ones. It was certainly too nice for her average Saturday routine of running errands, getting a Chipotle burrito, and indulging in some random Netflix marathon (7%. She knew exactly what she was doing when she chose it).

Then, she’d gone to the butterfly center and Chance was there (20% mostly from…kismet?).

And that kiss, oh that kiss (that was a 10%-chance-of-getting-laid kiss if ever there was one).

They were conveniently located near Rice Village, where the chocolate was (7%, let’s not ignore the obvious metaphor with that tasty treat).

And here they were at the Hotel ZaZa, so conveniently located nearby. It had a very nice bar where a couple could sit and have a few drinks, lubricating her sensibilities just enough so that final 10% could slide right on in.

Of course, that final 10% was statistically insignificant by that point. If an 87% chance wasn’t enough to get a man laid, either something was very wrong with him or something was very wrong with her.

They were waiting for their drinks in the Monarch Restaurant & Lounge.

Waiting to see where the day took them….

Juliet felt Chance looking at her that way again. It was more a feeling than anything, a sudden calm in his demeanor as he studied her. She felt it running through every nerve in her body, making her feel anything but calm. It made her feel…heated.

Perhaps this was how animals actually went about it during mating season. Maybe it had nothing whatsoever to do with seasons or environment or rituals. Maybe it was nothing more than pure intuition that they had found the one that they were just ready to get it on with.

Marvin Gaye began crooning in her head.

Let’s get it on….

A quick, nervous laugh escaped her lips.

“What is it?” Chance asked with a curious grin.

“Just my mind working overtime as usual,” she said, shaking her head with a smile.

The waiter came by with their drinks.

Juliet sipped her champagne gratefully.

“So you’re into numbers?” Chance asked idly.

It was as if he knew the topic would instantly put her at ease. Juliet could talk numbers all day long. She nodded in response.

“Do you actually play blackjack?”

“Oh God no, gambling is a sucker’s—” she stopped when she realized what she was about to say. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean….”

Chance just gave an easy laugh. “It’s fine, and you’re right. For most people gambling is a sucker’s game.”

Something about the way he said it told Juliet that he was relieved she didn’t gamble.

“Mostly, I just like playing around with stats. Like baseball for example. Do you watch?”

“Can’t say that I do. Moves a bit too slowly for my taste.”

“Mmm,” She said nodding. “There are two types of fans. People who love it for the sport and people who love it for the numbers, like me.”

“So you don’t root for a team?”

She gave him a disparaging look. “Just because I’m a nerd doesn’t mean I’m not loyal. Slugger Fever all the way. Astros too, but the Sluggers are just more interesting, statistically speaking.”

Chance had an attentive look on his face, but something told her it was her passion in the topic, not the topic itself that held him captive.

It made the bubbles that gurgled down her throat pop with even more exuberance. Champagne more than any other drink went straight through her veins on a direct route to her head, making her analytical mind go soft and pliable.

Right then and there, she was ready to go ahead and give him a full 100% shot.

* * *

They were on their second round of drinks. Chance seemed completely unaffected by his bourbon, with his steady, intense focus on Juliet.

Her champagne was having the exact opposite effect on her. It didn’t help that the only other contents of her stomach were candybar-filled ice cream and a caramel macchiato.

Chance now had this delightful haze to him. She wondered what his kiss would taste like. Would there be hints of bourbon and coffee ice cream? It made him look all the more delicious.

“Why don’t you play poker anymore?” she asked easily, trying to bring the conversation around to something he had an interest in.

The steadiness of his gaze turned into something sharp and almost feral, darkening the color of his eyes ever so slightly.

The look softened a bit when he realized that she was just making conversation. He gave a small chuckle and took a long sip of his bourbon before answering.

“Let’s just say, I became the sucker.”

“Did you lose a lot?” she asked, her brain functioning too slowly behind her mouth to let her know how tactless the question was.

“You could say that,” he said ambiguously, but his eyes darkened even more into something stormy. They transitioned from that calm grayish blue into more of a darker color.

Juliet wanted more than anything to bring him out of that funk. She wanted to taste him. She wanted to feel every inch of those muscles underneath that shirt and jeans. She wanted him to fuck her silly.

She finished the rest of her champagne and leaned in, resting a hand on his thigh.

“What do you say we get outta here?”

God, that was so bold! She never acted this forward with a man.

Instantly those dark, gray stormy clouds, cleared into blue-gray, calm waters.

“Sounds fine by me.”