A male strip club! Seriously. Who could possibly
believe that shy, color between the lines, follow every
rule,
Veronica Cooke had gone to a strip club?
“Her eyes were a dreamy shade of blue, the
greenish
blue
of a calm sea. Her nose was small and straight in
the
middle of an oval face. Pretty. Very pretty.
“Yes,”
she said. “I came to apologize for running
you
over. Unfortunately I’m Queen of the Klutzes.”
“Okay.”
He held out a hand for her to shake.
“Simon
West. How did you know where to find me?”
She
smiled and nodded at the Barrett University
Dance
T-shirt he wore. “I went to the Dance Department
office
and asked. I’m Veronica Cooke. I hope I didn’t
hurt
you.”
“You
didn’t. Hurt me, that is.” Since when did he
babble?
Since
now, he guessed. He had a hard time thinking
around
her. He wanted to reach out and touch her cheek
to
see if her skin was as soft and smooth as it looked.
“Well,
good. You’re a wonderful dancer. I wish I
had
that talent.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to
get
to my office hours. It was nice to meet you.” She
turned
to leave.
He
didn’t want her to. He found he very much
wanted
her to stay. Here. With him. “Um, do you have
time
to get coffee later?” He wasn’t dancing at
Hardbody
that night.
“I
might. When?”
“Around
four?”
“Four
sounds great. Where?”
“Sammy’s?”
“Okay.
I’ll see you then.” She gave him one last
smile
and left.
He
indulged himself and watched her trundle down
the
hall. “I think I need to get to know you better,
Veronica
Cooke.”
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