The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(79)

It was amazing how much lighter I felt. Like I had not just left behind a six-ounce communication device but a two-hundred -pound burden.

As I rode the elevator down to the ground floor, I started to get butterflies in my stomach. This was by no means my first first date. Technically, I go on "first dates" three or four times a week. True, they weren't exactly honest in their intentions, but I was supposed to be a pro at this... dealing with men. Getting them to like me. Playing their game. Reading their minds. But then again, that had always been Ashlyn's forte... not mine. And as the elevator doors opened menacingly, as if in slow motion, I felt like I was entering very uncharted territory.

I checked my reflection in the mirrored walls of the lobby. Sophie had done an amazing job navigating through the treacherous jungle of my closet. After only a few minutes of sifting through rows and rows of hangers, ruling out selections at record-breaking speed, she finally arrived at a pink lace camisole with a cream cardigan and a pair of skinny jeans.

Sophie had then moved into my bathroom, where she proceeded to make a complete mess of my accessories drawer and had finally topped off the ensemble with a ceramic bangle bracelet and dangling dark pink-and-nickel chandelier earrings.

I exited and immediately spotted Jamie's white Jaguar XK convertible waiting in front of my building with the top up, lights on, and the engine still running. I approached it.

The driver's-side door opened and Jamie stepped out to greet me. He looked amazing. Better than I remembered, actually. He was wearing a pair of light khaki slacks, a fitted black-knit shirt, and a black collarless jacket over it.

He kissed me tenderly on the cheek and I felt a small chill rush up my body. I cleared my throat. "So this is the Jag?"

"This is it. It's supposed to impress you. Is it working?"

I laughed and shook my head. "Not really."

"Damn. I'll have to ask for my money back," he said, walking around to the passenger side and opening the door for me. "The guy who sold it to me said it was supposed to impress all the ladies."

Jamie got in the driver's seat and pressed a button on the console. The top of the car slowly started to come down, and I felt the cool night air hit my face.

"What about now? Impressed?"

I considered. "Getting there."

"I'm five years away from forty. I figured I'd start the midlife crisis thing early with a convertible."

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "Almost forty! You're so..."

He shot me a warning glance.

"...young-looking for your age," I said with a grin.

Jamie nodded his head in gratitude. "I'll keep the windows up so it doesn't mess up your hair."

"That's very considerate of you," I joked. But in all actuality, it was a concern that had crossed my mind when the top started coming down.

"So," Jamie began while buckling his seat belt. "I figured that a girl like you probably goes on a lot of dates."

"Oh, really? And what does that mean? A girl like me?"

He adjusted the radio. "I mean, a girl as pretty as you."

I swallowed hard and looked out the window to hide the warmth I felt come over my face. "Oh. Thank you."

"So I thought tonight I should probably come up with a way to distinguish myself."

I laughed nervously, thinking about how distinguished this night had become already, and we had barely left Brentwood. "And what did you come up with?"

"Golf."

I looked at him incredulously. "Golf?"

He nodded. "Yes. Golf."

"You came up with golf?"

He smiled proudly. "Mmm-hmm. Have you ever played?"

I turned my head again. In fact, I had played golf...several times. And after a handful of lessons to get me up to "par" with the husbands I inspected on the golf course, I was actually fairly good at the game.

"Yeah, a few times," I said modestly. "But I didn't bring my clubs."

"That's okay, we can rent some."

"So we're going to play golf?" I asked again, still wondering when the "joke's on you" was coming.

"You like saying the word golf, don't you? I mean, we can do something else if you—"

"No, no! That's fine. I like... golf."

"Good," he said with a laugh. "Now, what's the quickest way to get back to Wilshire Boulevard from here?"

Without thinking I directed Jamie to make a right at the stop sign, then a left at the next street, a right at the next. Another left, then right, until we finally arrived on Wilshire.

Jamie waited at the stoplight and shot me a strange look.

"What?" I said, feeling self-conscious and instinctively smoothing my hair down.

"I know this isn't my 'hood' and all, but wasn't that, like, the longest possible route to Wilshire?"

I felt my stomach lurch. So much for appearing like a "normal" girl who dates all the time. I hadn't even realized that I had just taken Jamie through my six-turn safety route. Although now that my face was plastered all over the Internet, I had a hard time considering it very safe. I attempted to cover with a weak laugh. "Scenic route."

Jamie looked in the rearview mirror at the rows of apartment buildings and condos that looked pretty much exactly the same. "Well, thank you for that," he offered sincerely, with just the smallest trace of friendly sarcasm.