Chapter 2 #2
Samantha’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, now your expression reads like you’re plotting a highly sinful act. Do tell.”
“I was just wondering what it would be like to date a hockey player as you suggest. Didn’t you tell me they are the hottest, sexiest men in the world?”
“Don’t you dare put that on me. My heroine Felicity made that statement. I think she said hot, wet, and wild.”
Arching an eyebrow, I tried to hide behind my wineglass to keep from snorting.
I failed, the sound like a bottle rocket going off.
“Sure,” I told her. “But I thought writers mirrored their thoughts and experiences.”
“To a point. However, when you grow up in a hockey family, the last thing a girl wants is to find someone even remotely like one of her brothers. Ick.”
“Then what does the girl with purple hair want in a man?”
Her eyes lit up at me being able to notice the change. As if I wouldn’t. She’d already gone through three different vibrant hues since we moved in together. I should be fearful her hair would eventually fall out.
“I don’t know. Maybe a nice accountant. Stable. Always home by six at night. You know. The kind of guy who wears those cute little dark glasses.”
Choking on red wine was not something I would recommend. Neither was snorting the liquid up one’s nose. But I’d effectively done both. “An accountant?”
“Why not? They can be sexy.”
My only response was to wrinkle my nose.
“Okay, fine,” she growled. “Maybe they aren’t that sexy, but they are safe. Sometimes safe isn’t too bad.” She wrinkled her nose back at me. “What am I saying? They are boring as fuck. But my dad would approve.”
“Oh, do not get me started about father-approved men. I’ll die of old age or boredom myself if my father were to choose.” No, I’d be locked into marriage with one of my father’s buddies, someone twice my age if not more. “What is your perfect man?”
My roomie crossed both legs and stared off into space. “I don’t know. Maybe a doctor. No, a surgeon.”
“Then he’ll have crazy hours and will never see you.”
She nodded several times. “Okay, a billionaire so we can spend all our time on a yacht.”
With a chuckle, I shifted my head back and forth in a hem-haw movement. “Maybe, but what about a prenup? There’s not a billionaire around who won’t require a prenup or…” I had to stop for heavy emphasis, “who won’t trade you in eventually for a new model.”
“That’s what plastic surgery is for.”
We were holding our breath at the same time, then exclaiming at the exact same time, “Ew!”
After my structured, heavily controlled life, it was so nice just to relax and be with a friend.
“An actor,” she tossed out.
“Too flaky.”
“A musician.”
“Too sensitive.”
“Another dancer?”
Now I tossed my hair over my shoulders. “All prima donnas.”
“An attorney?” She shored up her shoulders, certain she’d suggested the perfect guy.
I gave it the thought it deserved, even tapping my finger across my lips. “Too rigid and concerned with taking risks.”
Samantha slumped, dropping her head to one side. “Alright, Ms. Perfect. Tell me all about your idea of the perfect, sizzling alpha man.”
“Well,” I started, realizing I had no clue what the perfect man would be. “I think the best way to describe him would be in basic terms.”
“Clinical but okay. I’m listening.”
“He’d have eyes that smolder when he looks at you, a gaze that feels like a physical touch even from standing across the room.
At that moment, you’d know that even if there were thousands of people crowding around, with him, you’d be the only person in the room.
And his voice would be a deep rumble that commanded attention for everyone, gravelly in tone as if meant only for whispered secrets. ”
“Wow,” she murmured, leaning forward.
I pressed my fingers to my lips, envisioning him even with my eyes remaining open.
“A delicious, musky yet warm scent lingering in a room long after he walked out. Cedarwood and exotic spices, a hint of cigar and danger wrapped in leather. He’d move with effortless grace, always exuding quiet power.
Even the slightest actions like running his long fingers through his thick, wavy dark hair or rolling up his sleeves and exposing his muscular forearms appear easy, filled with confidence. ”
While I took a sip of wine, dipping my tongue into the liquid, Samantha squirmed. “Don’t stop there.”
“A man of utter contrast, even to the point of being irritating. A juxtaposition of rugged, hardened features with a surprising level of tenderness.”
“Like a gentle giant,” she mused.
“Exactly. And he’s very much an alpha, possessive of his woman. What do they call it in your books? Touch her and die?”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded several times.
“Borderline obsessive, not quite like a stalker, but allowing you to know that you are the only woman for him and he will stop at nothing to make you happy. Once you walk into the room, everything else in the world, all difficulties disappear, voices fade, and there is no one else but you. Only you. And he will do everything in his life to protect you. Including dying for you if necessary.”
She craned and adjusted her neck, gulping half her glass of wine. When she was finished, she fanned her face. “That is… Yeah, the perfect man.”
“Not overkill?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Even the dying part?”