“Thank you so much for dinner, Gordon,” Sophie said as she opened the front door and snapped on the lights. “Would you like to come in? I have some pastries I picked up from the bakery earlier, and I can have coffee ready in no time.”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

Entering the foyer, they continued into the living area. Sophie released a pent-up breath. The room was cleaned of all vestiges of Bryce and his pizza.

Gordon removed his suit jacket, folded it neatly and draped it over the back of the couch. He followed Sophie into the kitchen, taking a seat at the bar while she switched on the coffeepot.

Once the coffee was brewing, Sophie pulled a small tray of pastries from the refrigerator and rummaged through a cabinet for plates. Setting a pastry on a plate, she pushed it, along with a fork, in front of Gordon then turned to watch as the coffee dripped into the glass pot. There was little conversation since Gordon was busy sampling the pastry. When the coffee was finished brewing, she poured two cups and turned to place the mugs on the counter. Glancing over Gordon’s shoulder she could see Cujo rolling blissfully on Gordon’s neatly folded jacket.

“Cujo!”

“Gesundheit,” Gordon responded around the pastry he was chewing. His attention remained on his plate, and his fork continued its uninterrupted path to his mouth.

“Excuse me for a moment, Gordon, while I go freshen up,” Sophie said as she dashed around the corner of the bar. Swatting the cat away, she snatched the jacket into her arms and hurried from the living room. In the privacy of her bedroom, she frantically brushed at the cat hairs clinging to the jacket.

“Stupid cat! Your days are numbered. You’ll be dog food if you pull another stunt like that.”

Sophie laid Gordon’s jacket on her bed and pulled the door closed behind her. Hurrying back to the kitchen, she was just in time to see Gordon using his fork to fish the last crumbs of pastry off his plate. She reclaimed her coffee cup and moved with a suggestive sway into the living room, but Gordon remained glued to his stool at the counter.

“Ahem,” Sophie gently cleared her throat. Again, no response from the man who could consume so much pastry.

Adjusting the pitch of her voice a little lower, Sophie tried again to get his attention. “Gordon, would you like to join me in the living room?”

Comprehension dawned, and Gordon quickly came to his feet. Adjusting his belt, he swaggered into the living room.

“Could we have a little music...” Gordon puffed out his chest and added, “...dear?”

Switching the stereo on, Sophie adjusted the dial to a classical music channel. The melody filled the room, setting the stage for a romantic interlude. Gordon had taken a seat on the couch, and Sophie sat next to him, placing her mug on the coffee table. Suddenly, Sophie couldn’t think of a thing to say, so she turned toward Gordon, hoping he would make the first move.

“Well?” she said, hopefully.

“Yes, ah, what would you like to talk about?” he asked, pulling at his collar, rubbing his eyes then sniffing loudly.

He can’t possibly be this dense. Sophie scooted a little closer. “We don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to. I could think of more...interesting things to do,” Sophie said in a soft sexy voice.

Gordon’s eyes widened, and a smile suffused his chubby face. Hesitantly, he placed his arm around her shoulder.

Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Sophie stared up into his eyes...and noted they were red and watering. When he leaned closer to her, she dropped her gaze to his lips. What would it be like to be kissed by him? It had been a long time since she’d been kissed.

“Oh, Sophie, I’ve dreamed of this moment,” he whispered. “You are so...” Gordon hesitated.

“Yes?” she prompted.

“So…” he began again, then inhaled sharply. “AHCHOO!”

Gordon erupted in an ear-splitting sneeze, spraying moisture all over Sophie’s face. Fumbling in his pocket for a handkerchief, he sneezed five more times in quick succession. Dazed, Sophie swiped at the spit on her face, all amorous inclinations gone.

“I’m so...so...ah-choo...sorry!” Gordon scanned the room anxiously. “You bust hab a cat. I’b allergic to cath.”

Comprehension dawned. Her stomach dropped to her toes. “Oh, Gordon, I do. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. What can I do? Is there anything I can get you?”

“Nothink. I hab to get out of here,” he said, lurching to his feet.

“Wait, I’ll get your coat,” she called after him.

“I’ll wait outthide.”

Sophie ran into the bedroom and screeched to a halt.

“Cujo. That’s it, you’re dead meat.”

There in the middle of Gordon’s worsted wool jacket was the ultimate affront to this disastrous evening, a smelly, wet, regurgitated hairball.

---

Next morning

“Hey, Sis, rise and shine.”

Sophie groaned.

A too-cheerful Bryce stood in the doorway to her bedroom. He wore boxer shorts with smiley faces on them, and a T-shirt that read, Med Students try HARDER. His auburn hair stood up in unruly spikes. “How was your hot date last night?”

“Go away,” Sophie muttered and pulled her pillow over her head.

“Ah, come on Sis, spill.”

“I just want to die!” she said from beneath the pillow.

“Was it that bad?”

“Worse!”

“Huh.” He cleared his throat. “I had a call from Kim this morning.”

“So?” He was really beginning to get on her nerves.

“Oh, you remember Kim, that hot little nurse I’ve been dating? You remember—the one who works the night shift in the emergency room at County Hospital?”

“Good for you,” she mumbled, still buried beneath the pillow.

“Pay attention, sleepyhead,” he said, as he slapped her rump. “Kim said they had an interesting patient come in last night. He nearly died from an allergic reaction to cat dander. Sound familiar?”

“Oh my god, poor Gordon.” Rolling out from under her pillow, Sophie sat up. “It’s a cinch he’ll never call me again. Do you realize I haven’t had a decent date in over six months, and I haven’t had sex in over two years? It figures, the first time I do go out, I nearly kill my date,” she wailed and flopped back onto the pillow.

“So, he wasn’t Mr. Perfect, huh? And I guess he didn’t love your cat, either.”

“Shut up,” Sophie grumbled.

“Oh, you’ll get over it. Too bad about Gordon, but he wasn’t your type anyway. What you need is a night out with a real man.”

“Augh...never again,” she vowed.

---

That night

“I can’t believe you talked me into going out with you,” Sophie groused. “And I can’t believe you talked me into wearing this. God, I hope nobody I know sees me. My heels are too high, this dress is too short and it’s so tight I can’t breathe,” she wheezed, adjusting the bodice of the silky black sheath she’d spent a fortune on that day. She should have her head examined for listening to Bryce that morning over coffee.

He had said, “What you need, Sis, is a man’s perspective to bait the perfect trap.” He had pushed his sleeves back and continued with his macho bullshit. “And I’m just the man to do it.”

They spent the day shopping for the right outfit that was sure to, as Bryce put it, ignite any male libido.

“But, Sis, you look fabulous. Didn’t you see all the guys at the bar checking you out as we walked in?”

“Yeah, they were waiting for me to either fall off these heels or for my dress to explode at the seams. I need a drink.”

Three margaritas later, she was beginning to see it Bryce’s way. They made a striking pair as he led her into a showy series of spins and dips on the dance floor. As he pulled her close for the next spin, he cupped one hand around the side of his mouth and pointed a finger with his other.

“Check out what just came through the door.”

Sophie twirled on her heels a little too quickly, considering the amount of alcohol consumed, teetered for a moment, then lost her balance, toppling to the ground.

“Oomph!” she grunted as her rear met the parquet dance floor. Scrambling to her feet, Sophie quickly adjusted her dress in an attempt to regain her dignity. “Where?” she asked.

“He’s standing at the bar now.”

“I can’t see.”

She hopped in an attempt to peek over the sea of heads so much taller than her five feet three inches. It wasn’t until the music ended and the dancers drifted apart that she, at last, had a clear view of the bar.

“Oh, my, I see him now,” she said breathlessly. “Wow...he’s gorgeous.”

Standing well over six feet, the man wore his casual attire with confidence. His denim shirt clung lovingly to impossibly broad shoulders, and faded blue jeans fit snugly at a trim waist. As he turned to the bar to place his order, her gaze followed a path down firm buttocks and massive thighs. Sophie’s breath caught, and she a felt a warm flush of blood begin to stir throughout her body.

“Okay, Bryce, go find your own date. You’re on your own, now. I can take it from here,” she said without removing her gaze from her target.

“Are you sure you can handle this, Sis?” Bryce hesitated. “I’m almost beginning to feel sorry for the guy. Be gentle, will ya?”

“Get lost, Bryce.” With that parting comment, Sophie flipped her hair over her shoulder and, with an exaggerated sway, moved in for the kill.

She watched him turn with a beer in his hand, lean an elbow on the bar and begin to scan the room. Slowing to a stop, she waited breathlessly for his gaze to find her. She noted his hair was dark and cropped close to his head. She liked a crisp military haircut. His nose was a trifle wide, but suited the hard contours of his masculine face. And his mouth. The full bottom lip caused excited flutters in her stomach.

His gaze passed over her then swung back to return her stare. He straightened.

She smiled what she hoped was her most seductive smile and resumed her exaggerated sway, making a beeline toward him. This was going to be her lucky night.