Nathan cringed. Things were quickly going from bad to worse. His mind filled with images of women frantic to find a husband and ready to sink their claws into the next victim.
He shuddered at the thought and suddenly felt desperate to find a way out of the commitment he’d just made. “Why do you need me to do this for you? Doesn’t your friend already have people signed up for this speed-dating thing?”
“She did, but three of the male applicants pulled out earlier tonight.”
“Smart guys,” Sean said, chuckling.
Valerie sent Sean a chastising glance before returning her attention to Nathan. “Cindy was only able to replace two of the guys, so she needed one more man to balance out the ratio of men to women and I promised her I’d help out.” Obviously sensing Nathan’s indecision, she rushed on to hook him for good. “It’s only one night, and just a few hours of your time. All you have to do is talk to women and be nice to them. If you aren’t attracted to any of them, no big deal. And if you did this for Cindy, for charity, I know she would be so grateful.”
Awww, hell. Those expectant eyes gazing at him with such hope did him in. He was a sucker for a pretty face and sweet smile. He blamed his three older sisters for using the same tactics on him and taking advantage of that intrinsic male part of him that wanted to please the females in his life.
Like attending a charity event that involved dating strange women.
He couldn’t bring himself to disappoint Valerie. It was only a few hours of his time, and wouldn’t interfere with his TRG case since this weekend was all about compiling information on Preston Sloane and figuring out a strategy before going undercover. Nathan figured the event would be a good distraction from everything else weighing so heavily on his mind.
He sighed. “Fine, I’ll do it.”
He’d go to Simply Fondue tomorrow night. He’d meet and mingle with single women and gently deflect any interest, because he certainly wasn’t looking for a relationship. He’d flirt, enjoy the cocktails and food, and chalk it all up to an interesting experience.
Then, with his good deed out of the way, he’d concentrate all his time and attention on the Ramsey case. His sole focus in the upcoming weeks would be finding sixteen-year-old Angela and bringing her safely back home to her parents, where she belonged.
Chapter Two
“I swear, the things I do in the name of journalism,” Nicole Hutton grumbled in disgust, not for the first time since she’d been handed her current assignment. After two years at The Las Vegas Commentary, she didn’t deserve such a rookie story. “Speed dating, of all things. It’s truly mind-boggling what the good people of Vegas find fascinating, isn’t it?” And she was frustrated because she had to report on such a frivolous event when she was eager to report on a story with depth and substance.
Fresh from a shower and wrapped in a silky thigh-length robe, Nicole strolled out of her bathroom and into the adjoining bedroom where her friend, Michelle, was stretched out comfortably on an upholstered secondhand lounge chair in the far corner. Michelle, a co-worker as well as her roommate, was newly engaged to a great guy, and that meant Nicole would be searching for a new roomie in the near future. Which sucked big-time, because after two years together, Nicole really enjoyed Michelle’s company, advice, and friendship.
“Well, speed dating does seem to be one of the hottest trends right now, so I guess that counts for something,” Michelle said, trying to make sweetened lemonade from the sour lemons Nicole had been handed. “Inquiring minds want to know what it’s all about.”
Nicole rolled her eyes as she sat down on the small chair in front of her mirrored vanity. Keeping her annoyance at the whole situation in check, she picked up a tube of body cream and started rubbing the scented lotion along her bare shoulders and arms. “Fine. I’ll tell our readers what they want to know, and hopefully move on to something more intelligent with my next assignment.”
Michelle bit her bottom lip, a reluctant look passing over her delicate features before she spoke. “I heard Sharon say if they get a good response to this article in next week’s issue, she’s going to make Dating in the 21st Century a monthly segment.”
Nicole groaned out loud. She wanted to ask if Michelle was kidding, but knew it was no joke. Sharon, the editor in chief at The Las Vegas Commentary, would undoubtedly put Nicole in charge of the column, and the thought of spending the next six months reporting on current dating trends was enough to make her break out in hives. Which would be a really bad thing right before her speed-dating assignment this evening.
“Sharon is killing me with all these fluff pieces she keeps tossing my way.” A legitimate complaint considering what she’d been promised when she took the job at the Commentary. “God, will she ever give me something I can investigate and make a name for myself?”
Michelle sighed, silently understanding Nicole’s irritation and disappointment. “You know how strict Sharon is about having to work your way up the editorial ladder.”
“I’ve been climbing for almost two years.” Swiveling her chair toward the vanity mirror, she began plucking the hot rollers from her hair. “I think I’ve more than proved myself as a reporter. She knows I’m capable.”
“You can always sleep with the boss,” Michelle suggested, tongue in cheek. “It worked for Justin.”
Loose blond curls fell to Nicole’s shoulders as the heated rollers were removed, one by one. She met Michelle’s gaze in the mirror and grinned wryly. “It’s been a long dry spell for me in the sex department, but I’m not desperate enough to go girl-on-girl, and I know that’s not Sharon’s scene, either. So, the whole sleeping-with-the-boss thing just isn’t going to work for me.”
Michelle rolled her light brown eyes. Then, turning on her side, she propped her head in her hand, her expression suddenly somber. “You’re feeling restless at work, aren’t you?”
“I just feel… undervalued, and uninspired as a journalist. I’m bored and I want exciting stories that give me a rush of adrenaline and actually make a difference.” She swiped on eye shadow and rimmed her upper and lower lashes with a soft kohl liner before adding mascara.
Because as things stood, she was sorely in need of a career boost of some kind. She hadn’t spent all those years at Columbia University on a full scholarship to be a minion at a mediocre, socially driven newsmagazine. She’d rather take risks with difficult, uncompromising reporting that kept people up to date on important current issues.
News was Nicole’s true passion, and she dreamed of being a tough journalist on top of breaking events. A reporter who relished the challenge of discovering deep, dark truths and documenting stories that were shocking, yet so riveting you couldn’t help but read all the sensational, and sometimes scandalous, details.
When she’d hired on at the Commentary, the new and upcoming magazine’s vision had been different-definitely more in line with Nicole’s personal goals. Somewhere along the way, the editorial input had turned soft, indulgent, and much too complacent for Nicole’s liking. And as tonight’s speed-dating assignment proved, the weekly publication wasn’t taking her career in the direction she’d pictured. And most likely it never would.