The club was trendy, and was usually just her kind of scene. But Wendy felt like none of the male prospects seemed appealing. Oh, she may have danced with them, even flirted. But one by one, they waned in her estimation. Something always happened to make her get ticked – or turned, off. Something was missing. And then there he was. Dark, arresting. He was watching her with penetrating eyes and she liked his look on sight. Smart casual, clean shaven, refined. Just her type. He started to make his way to where she stood with a couple of her friends. Sally, a very impish blonde, cooed in appreciation as she watched him head their way. “Please tell me that hotness is coming for me.” “Keep dreaming, honey,” Bea, who was of Indian descent, muttered as she pasted a come-on smile on her lips for the advancing male figure. “You can bet he’s mine.” “You’re both dreaming,” Wendy said with a good-natured huff, as she tossed her silky auburn hair over her shoulder. “He knows what he wants.
