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(excerpt)

I press the button on my answering machine. 'Any good offers tonight?' I think to myself. Placing the shoes against the wall, I smile thinking about the dress that goes with them. "That darn Jacey," I verbalize. I push the playback button when I realize I didn't hear any of the messages. Phillip, blowing some issues out of proportion again. He'll keep calling until he reaches me, though. Arrrgh! May as well call him now while I have an excuse not to talk long. I dial his number while checking Scratch's food bowl. "Phil, hi." Yeah, he has a problem. "Listen, I'm calling to let you know I got your messages. Join me tomorrow for lunch." I pause to check his response. "Bring the kids. They can play with Tyler while we talk." He accepts my invitation. "Noon sounds good. See you then." That was almost too easy.

I head to the shower. I'm now in need of a martini more than ever. Out of the house in 30 minutes. On my way to the nightclub, I can't stop thinking about Jacey. I don't think I want to get seriously involved with him, so I'm seriously going to have to distance myself from him.

When I get to Renaissance, I'm pleased to find a parking spot right across the street. I throw my shawl over my head, and step out of the car. Traffic halts as I trot to the other side. I wave in the direction of the horn blown, but don't look back to see if it's someone I know.

"Dumond, my love, how's it going?" I give the bouncer a hug.

He pushes my hair behind my left ear. "I'm fabulous. You're running late tonight."

"I know. Got held up with some stuff earlier." There I go again with thoughts of Jacey. "I'm here now. Anyone special come in yet?"

He looks to the right and nods toward the bar. "The stallion in the back asked for you by name when he came in."

'Not Jay, not Jay, not Jay,' I pray as I turn, slowly. All right, it's not Jacey. He's too tall. I can't quite make out the face, but the body's bangin'. "I'll check you in a few, Dee. I'm going to see what that's about." I wink to Dumond and head into the club.

I'm stopped only once tonight before reaching the bar. Good. I'm more in need of a drink than conversation right now. Coming closer to the lit area, I make out the face of the guy Dumond and I were checking out. My God! I know him. And he is definitely fine. His name. What is his name? He's looking at me as if he remembers me, so I can't look like a fool. What is his name? He's approaching me. His name?

"A drink, Miss?" he asks.

Oh, crud. "Hi, sure. Thank you." I'm still wracking my brain for the name. I usually don't recall names until I save their numbers in my cell phone. "She knows what I drink." I signal the bartender.

"I've seen you in here a few nights. This your regular hangout?" he asks.

I smile as his name finally comes to me. "You already assumed so, didn't you? You did ask for me at the door, and we met here last weekend. You here often?"

"No." He hands his credit card to Maria, then hands my drink to me. "I'm not into the club scene much. I stop in for a minute or two for a drink and usually head home before the crowd comes in."

"What brings you here tonight? Rough day at work?" I pry. Clean and good-looking doesn't always mean employed.

He leans against the bar looking like a posing Adonis. "My day off. My guys won yesterday. I gave them the weekend to chill."

"Your guys. A coach, I'm guessing?" I flirtatiously flip my olive with the toothpick, then sip from my glass.

He nods. "High school football. Almost two years here. Three years in Virginia."

"You're from Virginia?" I'm not sure why I'm carrying on this conversation, but I can't seem to shut up and walk away from him. "I don't mean to be nosey. You don't have to answer that."

His pearly whites show. "I went to college there and got the offer my last year. Screwed up my knee and shoulder playing, so I figured coaching would be a good way to go. I'm actually from Arkansas." He pulls out a barstool and gently motions me to sit. "You're not being nosey. You're a good conversationalist. I like that."

"You don't know me," I mutter, taking the seat.

"Sorry, I didn't even ask. Getting a little ahead of myself. Am I keeping you from anything at the moment?"

I look over the entire club from where I stand. Shaking my head, I reply, "Um . . . no. We can chitchat for a moment, I suppose."

He leans into me. "How's your drink?"

I sit back on the barstool. Okay, now he's scaring me. 'Personal space, man,' I'm thinking. "It's fine, thank you. The way I like it," I say, one eyebrow raised.

Luckily, he reads the look on my face and steps back. He takes a swallow of his drink. "What do you do for fun, Ms. Bend?" Placing his glass on the bar, he waves to Maria for another.

Here I am with this fine looking man, and he asks me a question that brings me right back to Jacey. I can't very well say, 'I fool around with my ex for kicks.' I need a new hobby. Or a different man. Or a new cat. . .

"Taylor," he says, interrupting my thoughts. "Are you with me?"

I take a gulp from my glass. "With you? Uh, yeah. Sorry, Leek." I place my glass down and cross my hands in my lap. "What was your question?" I give him the schoolgirl admiring the handsome teacher look.

"I asked what you do for fun," he says, implying he meant to ask my profession.

"I'm a part owner of Bend-Frantz Catering. Heard of it?" I ask. A tap on my shoulder distracts me from Leek's response.