I stand there next to our table and watch her leave, not sure exactly what the fuck just happened. I think Amanda Peterson just dismissed me.

Turns out, Amanda is an attorney. I don't know why I never thought to do an internet search on her once I knew her name. If I had, maybe I'd have been prepared for the 7 AM coffee date across from the federal courthouse.

Maybe I'd have been prepared for the serious woman in the tailored business suit with her hair pulled back and the tortoise shell rimmed glasses on that transformed the smiling face from her profile photo into a stunning professional woman with a hint of sexy librarian going for her.

No online research would have prepared me for her no nonsense coffee order, or the way she acted like she was the one who was too busy to stay and chat.

Nothing could have prepared me for the way I found myself staring at the buttons on her silk blouse, thinking that just two more buttons undone would give me a peek at the creamy tops of her full breasts. Or how her hair would fall over her shoulders, the dark waves contrasting with her pale skin if I could just pull the clip out of her hair.

Amanda Peterson turns out to be nothing like I expected at all. She's polished, educated, and professional with excellent posture and a straight forward approach.

And she just spent 20 minutes staring at me like I walked on her white carpet with paint on my shoes. Then she motherfucking dismissed me, like I wasn't up to her standards.

"How'd it go?" Rod asks as he approaches from where he was sitting with Amanda's best friend across the cafe, "I thought you were going to give her half an hour?"

He looks down at his watch. "I take it she really doesn't ring your bell?"

Ring my bell? I'm still staring at the door she disappeared through. I just spent 20 minutes with my dick half hard and what I really want to do is adjust the fucker. No. What I really want to do is watch it disappear between Amanda Peterson's perfectly lipsticked lips.

Shit. I immediately have to clear that image from my mind before I find myself standing in a coffee shop filled with judges and attorneys while I'm sporting wood.

Rod heads toward the door and I follow him, still trying to process what just happened between me and Amanda.

"Can you get her scheduled in later this week?" I ask as we walk to the car, "Dinner. Some place nice."

Rod turns to give me a confused look. If my head was clear maybe I wouldn't be surprised but right now he's irritating me and I don't have patience for it.

"I thought you weren't into her?"

"I'm not," I snap, "but that was 20 fucking minutes in a noisy coffee shop before work. The least I can do is give her a nice evening out, pick up the tab on a good meal. Besides, this counts as our first date. Chaperoned and no drinking, right?"

Rod nods slowly.

"So we can do dinner just the two of us, maybe kill the tension with a bottle of good wine, right?"

Rod stops nodding in favor of grinding his teeth on the right side of his jaw.

"You know you're booked solid for weeks, right?" He asks.

"Just make it happen, would you?" I answer him tersely as we buckle in and he starts the car, heading back to the office.

Yeah, I know I'm booked up. I know a few days ago I wanted to get my meeting with Amanda out of the way so I could get back to my match maker and get her working on finding me a woman that's a better fit.

Things change.

I still don't see Amanda being the woman I need on my arm for charity functions and all the other public appearances I need to make.

As I stare absently out the passenger side window of Rod's sedan, I picture Amanda in a slinky red number. With her hair done in one of those French knot type things with curls falling down around her face.

She is curvy, but she's in better shape than I expected. Much better shape. The kind of shape that makes me want to wrap my hands around her body and drag it toward my mouth.

I shift in my seat uncomfortably. What the fuck is wrong with me? My dick jumps every time I think about getting that woman naked like I was a fucking teenager again. The real question is why can't I seem to stop thinking about getting her naked?

Back at the office, I find myself distracted. I'm supposed to be going over the notes for the show that we'll tape this afternoon but instead I find myself doing that online search for Amanda.

Her social media privacy settings are locked down tight and, based on the information I find on her professionally, I can understand why.

She's one of our area's top notch criminal defense attorneys. There's a good chance she'll be a judge in the next few years.

The notion of being married to a judge wanders through my mind for a minute.

Further research on Amanda reveals more of why our match maker might have thought we'd work together well. She's pretty outspoken on her politics and opinions on our justice system and it seems like we're on the same page on a lot of our views.

I find a picture of her at a black tie event at the state capital. She's wearing an elegant black number that leaves little to the imagination. Strappy, low cut, backless, clingy floor length thing with a slit up the thigh.

Actually, it leaves a lot to the imagination. Now I can't stop imagining running my hand up the smoothness of her exposed thigh and finding out what's hidden under the glittery material.

She does clean up nice.

"You get dinner scheduled with Amanda yet?" I ask when Rod answers his phone.

"You serious, man? It's 10:30 in the morning. She's still in court."

"Can't you work it out with her friend? Or her brother, or something?"

Rod sighs dramatically, "I'll see what I can do."

Good.

I end the call and move on to the next result I find in my search. The show's gonna suck this afternoon, since I'm not using my morning to brush up on our guest but I'm pretty sure I can wing it by letting the guy talk about himself the whole time.

Right now, I want to know more about the woman I'm supposed to marry.