Read Dating and Other Dangers Online
Authors: Natalie Anderson
Dating and Other Dangers (6 page)
‘It’s not me you should be mad at.’ He stepped back, totally misunderstanding her anger. ‘Don’t forget, Nadia, I’ve been the perfect gentleman.’
She darted inside and slammed the door, turning the lock with loud, vicious force. Even so, she could hear his chuckle as he walked down the path.
N
ADIA
drank three huge glasses of ice-cold water but was still hotter than a Habanero chilli. Her hands shook as she tossed the glass into the sink and she didn’t care when it shattered against the stainless steel. She bent her head and berated herself some more. She was furious. And he’d pay. He’d damn well pay for being such a player.
She stalked to her computer and pulled up the WomanBWarned blog, not stopping to think, just letting the words write themselves.
So, as you’ve read over on the Mr 3 Dates and You’re Out thread, the man himself has challenged me to go on three dates with him—so he can prove he’s not the use-her and lose-her jerk he’s portrayed to be. Interesting idea, don’t you
think? And what does it tell us about the man himself—conceited, much?
It’s the absolute zenith of arrogance that he thinks he can somehow “win me over” in three dates. He is so cocksure of his attractiveness that he thinks he’ll prove what a “nice guy” he really is …
But I’m fair, willing to give him the time to try, so I said yes and brought my open mind with me.
So let’s talk about the first date—he went with the movie idea. As we know, from his new GuysGetWise blog, he’s of the opinion that a movie is a good option—despite reading my view that its not the best first date option. Proof that while the guy might say he wants women to “share”, he’s not actually listening to what we say or want.
So I selected a three-hour foreign film that totally sucked. I chose it because he wasn’t getting any “chick flick, happy ending hormones” from me. Oh, no. In truth my favourite kind of movie is actually a good thriller or a cut-’em-up horror. I like the adrenalin. But why should he get the benefit from the kind of movie I like? Isn’t it up to him to give me the buzz—just from his company?
So lesson number one for Mr 3 Dates: you can’t stereotype women. We all have different tastes. And guess what? You are not my favourite flavour.
Sure, you’re good-looking, but is there anything beneath your pretty surface? Not so far as I can tell. Ladies, let me sum up what I learned about him tonight:
Mr 3 Dates is the kind of guy who tops up your wine glass when you’re not looking.
Mr 3 Dates is the kind of guy who thinks a fancy restaurant with beautiful food is all the effort he needs to put in.
Mr 3 Dates is the kind of guy who shrugs off any personal questions as if he’s afraid he’ll reveal something vulnerable that a woman might use “against” him—like the enemy he sees us as. He’s all about the hunt and women are the prey.
Yes, so far, Mr 3 Dates is totally living up to the rep he’s been given online. Without doubt he’s a player. The ball’s in his court to try prove otherwise. My advice to him?
Try harder.
Ethan read the blog post that had already appeared by the time he’d power-walked the half-hour home. Not that it had dispelled any of the energy cramping his muscles. He went to the cupboard and poured a whisky, knocking it back neat. It burned. But not as much as what she’d written. What? It was his fault she’d been thirstier than a fish? Not for the wine but for his kisses! She hadn’t been able to get enough. But had she admitted that? Hell, no. She couldn’t face reality at all—certainly couldn’t admit to her own responsibility, her own desires. She’d just warp speeded her way back to Planet Nadia.
Well, he was going to get her to face it even if it killed him. Which it might very well do. Sure, he got what she was saying about her ex. The guy was a total user and an absolute jerk. But Ethan wasn’t anything like him. He respected women. And what was so wrong with taking her to a nice restaurant? He totally didn’t deserve this—and look how conveniently she’d skipped over half the date, the
important
half. Riled beyond the rational, he opened up his own blog and shredded her right back.
Date Number One
is Done.
So Ms
OlderNWiser
went out with
me tonight. The Date Movie. Now, all’s fair in love and war, and as this is war she’d read my blog. So she said no to the pizza first. And no to the chick flick. Instead she made like she was “desperate” to see one of those arty things with subtitles that goes for hours. To my surprise, I found it not bad, but I suspect it’s not her usual thing because she got fidgety. And—oh, look—she’s written up the date on her blog already. Yeah, not her usual style. She likes horror? How appropriate.
However, as the flick tonight was in French, it was the perfect segue into one of the best restaurants in the city. I’d texted from the cinema and got us a table before the film even started—lesson for you, guys: always be ready to adapt and recover a date that’s going sideways. And, for the record, I’d still recommend the chick flick. Horror is for cowards who are too afraid to face their own personal demons, so they try to get the cathartic effect by riding on other people’s nightmares.
Anyway, the restaurant. From her blog you’d think she wasn’t that impressed. Maybe not with me, but the food
for sure—she orgasmed her way through two desserts. Or maybe she was faking it, because I suspect her tastebuds can’t cope with anything more than bland.
Most interestingly, if you go to her What Not To Do on the First Date blog-post, you’ll see she has five “don’ts” listed. Guess how many of her own rules she broke tonight, boys?
Yeah. You got it.
All five.
She went to the movies. She drank (and she asked me to fill her glass, by the way). She talked about her ex. She definitely tried too hard—as in tried not to have a good time—but in the end she couldn’t resist …
Yeah, I know what you’re wondering about most—too sexual?
Well, if making the first move on the first date makes a woman too sexual, then, yeah, she checked that box too.
But let me say this. A gentleman always sees a lady safely home. A gentleman doesn’t take advantage of a lady’s indiscretion. A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.
Ms
OlderNWiser
however—does she tell?
Not the truth, it seems.
And why is that? Well, why should she, when from the convenient anonymity of her online “user” ID, she can launch her attack? I’m named and shamed while Ms
BitterNTwisted
—sorry, Ms OlderNWiser—hides behind her computer screen in safety. Anyone else see the irony in this? It doesn’t seem fair that I and several hundred other guys are named, and yet the women on
WomanBWarned
get to preserve their privacy. Am I going to out her? I know you want me to. But I’ve made a promise and, contrary to what some may think, I do keep my promises.
But I know what else you’re wondering. Is Ms
OlderNWiser
actually that old and wise? Truthfully, she’s not anywhere near as old as you’d think. Nor is she anywhere near as wise as she claims. So, ladies, I’d be very wary of taking the advice of a woman who’s too young to have been even part-way round the block. Just thought I’d point that little truth out for you to think about.
It took ten minutes for Nadia to read all of Ethan’s response, because the red haze in
front of her eyes blinded her for most of that time. He was out to undermine her completely, to make her anonymity untenable. This whole situation was untenable. With a vicious tug on the cord she pulled the plug straight out of the wall—not caring about the possible damage she could do to her computer. She turned her back on the black screen and stomped to the shower.
Icy, icy water didn’t blast away the fever boiling her blood. He’d trumped her at every turn. The worst thing was that most of what he’d written was true—she
had
done all those things. Except she hadn’t faked it over the dessert—she’d
thought
about doing that to tease him, but she hadn’t needed to. And she
hadn’t
teased him. He’d been unmoved. But he’d guessed her intent anyway. He’d
known
she’d wanted to snare his interest. And all he’d been was amused—until she’d goaded him into a purely physical response.
And what was the “indiscretion” he hadn’t taken advantage of? The wine, or the way she’d made a move on him? Damn it, three minutes in his arms and she’d
wanted
to be taken advantage of—as wholly and hard as he could. She’d basically been begging for it.
He’d
been the one to stop it and say no. Her
stupid plan to be the one woman to say no to him had gone in a flick of his eyelashes.
Angry tears slid down her cheeks. Because now she knew she could never win this war against him. Not when she wanted him as she’d never, ever wanted a man before. Not when she was so out of control she was behaving in a way she’d never behaved before. There was some kind of combustion that occurred within her when he was around—pure aggravation and pure lust. So the only way to combat that was never to see him again. The deal was over—it had to be. Not just for her dignity, but her sanity as well.
She’d take down his thread—much as it galled her. But she had to. Because this humiliation of wanting a guy so badly she was shaking with it was worse than anything.
Ethan lay awake most of the night, reliving the date, thinking about the next, laughing aloud as he imagined her response to his blog. She was going to be furious, and he couldn’t wait for her to unleash all her hell on him.
Yes, he’d been attracted from the moment he’d laid eyes on her in her office. But when she’d appeared on her doorstep last night? For the first time in his life he’d been speechless. She’d hassled him over his flattery—but in
truth all his usual eloquence had disappeared. There’d been no room in his brain for anything but
wow
. Closely followed by
I want
.
And he’d been honest when he’d told her he didn’t want to find her attractive. He really didn’t. But he so did. And that attraction was increasing every moment he had with her.
She was completely gorgeous—even when she was hamming it up and looking at him with those doe eyes and biting her lip in total tease fashion. Her enjoyment of those desserts hadn’t been faked. She’d totally ignored him and lived in the moment, and he’d enjoyed watching her. He’d really like to watch her in the moments when real pleasure claimed her. He wanted to be the one who made it.
But he’d pulled back. He’d had no choice. He’d been able to tell she wasn’t used to much wine. He’d known she’d been drinking more only because he made her uncomfortable—a small fact that he’d take some pleasure in. But he wasn’t going to take physical pleasure from a woman whose defences were down. He wasn’t going to take advantage. He’d figured she wasn’t ready to handle the sparks between them. Not yet. He wasn’t sure he was ready yet either.
Only she’d turned his expectations upside down again, hadn’t she? She’d kissed him
with that hot, slick mouth and the slide of her delicious tongue. He’d almost fallen to his knees, pleading for her to stroke that tongue in some other place. So how could he resist teasing her? A few light kisses to twist up the tension and make the game that snippet more interesting.
Hello, heaven. The rushing in his head? The movement of his body? He’d almost lost control completely and screwed her in her front doorway. It would have been so easy. So good. And over too damn quick.
He wanted a bed, a whole night, and her to be willing and ready and uncomplicated. Yeah, there was the rub. This set-up wasn’t anything like his usual flings. Already he knew more about her than he knew about his casual dates. And casual was how he preferred it. He kept things simple—yeah, sexual. And fun. Light and easy and a breezy goodbye.
That wasn’t going to be possible with Nadia. It was too late already—how could there be light and easy when there was so much antagonism and mistrust?
But the drive to have her want him—
and admit it
—overrode the alarm bells clanging in the back of his brain. Ms OlderNWiser had passion and energy and he wanted it. Oh, yeah, he wanted to be all over her every
which way. He wanted to hear her cry, beg and scream for him. To admit that she wanted exactly what he wanted and every bit as badly. Because there’d never been a want as bad as this in all his life, and he was not going to let her deny it.
Early in the morning he rolled out of bed, completely unrefreshed, took a freezing shower to try and wilt the raging erection he’d been crippled with the last twelve or so hours, then went to work and tried to concentrate. But it, like his body, was too hard.
Finally he picked up the phone. He’d watched the comments appear—yeah, some of his cruder team-mates were getting vocal now. He drew a deep breath, discomfort niggling over some of the things they were suggesting he do. Well, he wasn’t uncomfortable with the suggestions themselves—hey, he’d been thinking those exact same things and several hundred more—but he didn’t like it being out in the public like this. Another comment pinged up—really crass. He turned away from the screen as he waited for her to answer, damn glad her real name wasn’t out there in the blogosphere.
‘Hammond Insurance. Nadia speaking.’
His fingers clamped the phone harder, responding to that hint of ruthlessness in her
voice. The tough lady tone hinted at the tiger within.
‘Good morning.’ He didn’t give his name—knew he didn’t need to. She was as alert to him as he was to her.
Yeah—all he got was silence.
‘How’s your head?’ He decided to provoke her. He had a nagging pain in his—a nagging that drilled down the rest of his body too, because it still resented the way he’d ripped away from her last night.
‘I’m not going out with you again. The deal’s off.’
He’d expected it, but even so her words winched his stiff muscles even tighter. ‘You’re such a coward,’ he said softly.
‘No, this is just a waste of time.’ She sounded crisp. ‘You’re everything those women said and then some.’
