Three Blind Dates (Dating by Numbers, #1)

by Meghan Quinn

He takes another step back, as if he doesn’t trust himself. The man must have some strong willpower because right about now, I’m two seconds away from flinging my body at him. “If I start, I won’t stop. I know myself too well. You’ve consumed me tonight, Noely, and I know if I kiss you, if I feel your lips against mine, there is no way I’d be able to say good night like a gentleman. So, from a distance I will say, thank you for an amazing night. I look forward to our second date.” With a wink, he pulls his phone from his pocket, dials a number, and says, “I’m ready.” Like magic, a car appears and Jack hops in, his lip print on my cheek the only thing he’s left behind. Good God, that man is dangerous. Dangerous for all the right reasons. Our second date can’t come soon enough.

Yes, I was a little disappointed I didn’t get my good-night kiss—well, good-night kiss on the lips—but his reasoning for not kissing me satisfied me. Hell, it more than satisfied me. It made me feel special, sexy, absolutely irresistible, and that’s one of the best qualities a man can give a woman.

My mind drifts to You’ve Got Mail and one of Meg Ryan’s early emails in the movie where she talks about the excitement of hearing those three little words, “You’ve got Mail.” I feel it. I understand it. The anticipation of waiting for that special person to connect with you again. In an age where instant gratification is the norm, it’s a beautiful thing to have to wait for a little mailbox to light up.

Smiling brightly, Jack gently pinches my chin, his touch soft and sweet. “Not a problem,” he whispers. “I’ll see you Saturday.” Leaning down, he presses the sweetest of kisses on my lips, lingering longer than expected then pulls away. With a sexy wink, he adjusts the cuffs on his button-up shirt and gives a curt nod to Dylan before taking off, leaving me in a sexually aware stupor. Not even sure if he’s out of earshot, Dylan says, “That was freaking hot. The way he kissed you like that. God, he’s fine.”

Being single is fun . . . for a little bit. But I’ve realized that there comes a time in a person’s life when they just want to be able to have a partner in crime, someone you come home to every night, and wake up with every morning. Someone who cheers during your triumphs and carries you when you fall. And when you see that kind of relationship in real life, playing out in front of you? It’s impossible not to want the same thing for yourself.

But growing up with loving parents, parents who still adore each other, they set the bar high for me. They’re what I so desperately want to replicate.