Chapter One
Blind dates.
Kendall stared down at the elegantly folded napkin resting on the white tablecloth, questioning every life decision that led her to a trendy restaurant in the heart of Silver Lake, Los Angeles, for a blind date.
Those two words made her cringe.
How had she let Reese, her best friend since kindergarten, talk her into this? Did she really want to be set up with a stranger? Was she really this desperate, or had Reese simply won the latest round of Let’s Fix Kendall’s far too pathetic love life?
She glanced around the restaurant, one of those places where the décor was more about style than comfort. It was all polished chrome and minimalist design—floor-to-ceiling glass windows, steel chairs, mood lighting, and a bar with kaleidoscopic tiles.
Kendall tried to look casual and nonchalant as she swirled the water in her glass, but her nerves were like honey bees, zapping at her skin.
This made it incredibly difficult to pretend she wasn’t waiting for a woman she had never met.
A woman who would no doubt scrutinize her face, her body, the far-too-tight dress she had borrowed from Reese that felt like it was hugging her in all the wrong places, the heels that pinched her ankles like a pair of crabs.
She wasn’t particularly self-conscious, but growing up in Hollywood had given her a masterclass in the art of comparison. It seemed everyone around her had flawless skin, perfect hair, and the kind of confidence that came with being groomed for stardom from a very young age.
She’d been told, often, that she photographed well, that she was what some would call photogenic, and that she should use her face, her body, to her advantage.
But the only thing Kendall had ever wanted to do was fight fires and save lives.
Simple.
Easy peasy.
It was a dream her father completely failed to wrap his head around.
Kendall fought the urge to check her reflection in the mirror on the wall and instead considered what she knew about her date. Her name was Sloane… that was it. Just a name. The woman could be a serial killer for all Kendall knew, a black widow eating her lover after sex…
She visibly shuddered and contemplated ducking out of the restaurant.
No harm in that. The whole thing wasn’t even her idea.
It was Reese’s idea. She’d been intent on setting her up with some friend of a friend.
There was a strong possibility that Sloane was just as opposed to the blind date as she was.
Kendall might even be doing the woman a favor if she simply got up and left now.
It was decided.
Kendall grabbed her small compact purse and was about to push back her chair when the entrance door swung open.
Her breath caught in her throat when in strode a gorgeous woman with mocha brown hair that fell just below her shoulders.
The sleek strands shimmered under the mood lighting.
The woman wore a white two-piece suit; a sleeveless blazer, tailored pants, and red pointed heels.
Her skin was honey brown, and even from where Kendall was sitting, she could see light eyes.
Blue perhaps. Or maybe green. The woman was older.
A decade possibly… maybe more than a decade.
Though age was hard to tell these days. Kendall would have to study her face up close.
In that blink of a second, she had wanted nothing more than to study this woman’s face. Every line. Every curve.
But there was no way of knowing if that was Sloane, since Kendall had pointedly refused to do an internet search or stalk her social media accounts. Now, a photo of her date would’ve been a blessing. A gift.
When Reese had first mentioned the blind date, Kendall had decided to go into the entire ordeal with an open mind, determined not to fall into the trap of overthinking to scare herself off the idea.
Even so, the nerves had built up over the last few days until the entire notion of a blind date sounded worse than a pap smear.
The woman scanned the room, and then her gaze landed squarely on Kendall. There was a flash of recognition in her expression, and Kendall’s stomach whooped. The next minute, the woman was making a beeline for her table.
“Kendall?” the brunette asked, raising a single questioning brow while her lips remained as straight as a ruler, with no hint of a smile. In fact, she looked rather displeased to be there, as if Kendall wasn’t a date, but rather an overly chatty barista she’d prefer to avoid.
“Umm… yes, and you must be Sloane,” Kendall stammered, extending her hand awkwardly, only to have the woman slide into the seat across from her with a grace that made everyone else in the restaurant look like flailing fish.
Sloane said nothing. She only picked up the menu and immediately lost herself in it, reading every line, or so it appeared to Kendall. She could only see the woman’s eyes—blue, like a sapphire ring—scanning the items.
“The restaurant’s apparently close to getting a Michelin star,” Kendall said, her voice laced with fake enthusiasm. She really didn’t give a crap if the restaurant was fancy or not. All she wanted was to kick-start the conversation out of this awkward pit.
Silence.
“They’re into gastronomy,” she added. “I had to Google that word to figure out it was related to food, not some weird science experiment.”
More silence.
Where was the polite chitchat that usually followed an introduction? Where was talk about the weather, about respective jobs, about favorite colors? This woman appeared intent on saying nothing, acting as if Kendall didn’t exist.
“Umm,” Kendall cleared her throat, picking up the knife and letting it drop with a clink to the table, hoping something would get the woman’s attention. “So, Sloane. Where are you from?”
With a deep sigh, the woman flicked her gaze up and watched Kendall over the rim of the menu. “Beverly Hills.” She then dropped the menu to the table and interlaced her fingers.
There was no follow-up question, nothing to prompt Kendall to share any details about her own life. And, frankly, forcing the conversation felt like pulling out teeth.
Was she really expected to converse with this woman?
How could Reese have thought this was a good idea?
How could her best friend, who knew her deepest secrets, think she’d enjoy a date with someone who would clearly rather be inside watching bowling on tv on a lovely sunny Saturday than getting to know her?
“You know,” Kendall started. “You’re being exceptionally—”
Sloane leaned forward and interrupted, “Look, Kylie—”
“Kendall. My name is Kendall,” she corrected, her tone sharper than intended.
It was one of those minor annoyances that got under her skin.
Sure, Kylie was a perfectly nice name, belonging to a perfectly nice woman who probably wore chic outfits and floated through life.
But her name was Kendall. Bold and uncomplicated.
Just like her. The woman had already got it right when she first walked in.
“Yes, Kendall,” Sloane emphasized, enunciating the syllables. “This whole blind date thing wasn’t my idea. My friend—who I’m thinking about severing ties with after this—forced me to come here tonight and, honestly, I can think of several things I’d rather be doing.”
Now that hurt, more than just a slap across the face. It hurt far more than just a sting of a bee.
Never in her entire life had she been so insulted.
Ugh.
Kendall’s blood was practically boiling. She was just about to give the woman a piece of her mind when she noticed Sloane’s gaze drop pointedly to her mouth. Was that hunger in her eyes? Or was Kendall, whose heart had begun to beat furiously, just imagining something that wasn’t there?
“Well, I suppose we should make this ridiculous thing worth our while.” Sloane swept her hand lazily through the air.
Did that mean what Kendall thought it meant? No. It couldn’t be. The woman wasn’t seriously insinuating sex, was she? Not after she’d so rudely sat down, not even introduced herself, and insulted Kendall like she was a man who had wolf whistled her down the street.
“Worth our while?” Kendall frowned.
“I think we’ve got two options here,” Sloane said smoothly, the corners of her lips tilting up just enough for Kendall to sense that if she did smile, it would be a beautiful, magnetic kind of smile.
“We do?” Kendall whispered, forcing her eyes to stay where they were—on Sloane’s forehead, instead of inching down to other, more appealing places.
Whatever the woman was offering was both enticing and absurd.
Nothing about those first fifteen minutes could have prepared Kendall for where things were headed.
But frankly, she might not be able to resist. She hadn’t had sex in months and this woman, she was rude and obnoxious, yes, but she was also as hot as the sun.
She was like a bite of decadent chocolate immediately after Lent.
“Option one,” Sloane said, leaning back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest in a far too casual, far too sexy way. “We can say goodbye and go our separate ways.”
“Or?” Kendall interrupted before the woman could think to back out of her own suggestions. Her voice was feeling shaky as she was suddenly feeling all hot and riled up. There was no cooling her down.
“We get a cab. Go back to your place. Fuck. And then I leave on my merry way, and we tell our friends that things just didn’t work out.”
Kendall’s breathing was becoming increasingly more ragged as she imagined Sloane’s perfect rosebud mouth, top and bottom lips equally thick, brushing over her skin, down her…
Her center began to throb and although she wanted that feeling to go away, now, before she did something stupid, she couldn’t help it when she blurted, “Option two, please.”
~~
The evening hadn’t gone the way Kendall had planned. But then again, what had she planned? One thing that was for sure, it definitely wasn’t this.