All Through The Night. Kate Hoffmann
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Hill.”
Ellie patted her on the shoulder. “That’s not true. You’re a very desirable woman! You could have any man you wanted, if you’d just put a little effort into it. When was the last time you went out?”
“Prudence Trueheart doesn’t frequent singles bars,” Nora said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Well, maybe it’s about time you got back into the swing of things,” Ellie said.
“How?”
“I don’t know,” Ellie said with a shrug. “You’re the advice columnist. Answer an ad, join a church group, take a class. Isn’t that what you tell your readers?”
“That will take too long. I need immediate gratification.”
Ellie gasped. “Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too fast?”
“Not that kind of gratification,” Nora replied. “I just need to know that I’m still attractive. That men find me alluring and intriguing.”
“Well, that’s easy, then. Tonight, you and I will go out. And we’ll stay out until you meet a man. You’ll flirt a little, maybe even kiss him. And if you really like him, you can give him your phone number.”
Presented with a real plan, Nora suddenly wasn’t sure she wanted to venture into such dangerous territory. What if she went out, and no one even bothered to look her way? “No man is going to want to date Prudence Trueheart.”
“You don’t have to tell him who you are. You could wear that disguise, that wig you bought a few months ago—the one you wear grocery shopping. You told me when you’re in disguise, people don’t recognize you.”
Nora blinked, the simple perfection of Ellie’s plan slowly sinking in. All the fun without any of the consequences. She could say and do whatever she wanted, become a completely different person if she wanted to. “I don’t know,” Nora said. “A disguise in this situation seems a little deceptive, don’t you think?”
“You’re going to flirt a little, not sell national secrets to the Russians. Who will you be hurting?”
Nora considered the plan for a moment. “I—I guess it could be like research. A little experiment. After all, if I’m expected to give advice, I should at least get out there and see what’s going on, don’t you think?” She looked up at Ellie expectantly. “So, are we on for tonight?”
Nora knew that if she gave herself even one more hour to think about this, she’d never go through with it. Her sense of propriety and good breeding would win out. It was time to stop thinking and rethinking every single aspect of her life. It was time to take action!
Ellie smiled and shook her head. “All right. Be dressed by eight.”
“What should I wear?”
“Something provocative, of course. If you wear that suit, you’ll be lucky if the bartender talks to you.”
Suddenly, Nora wasn’t sure action was the best plan. Maybe she should take some time to think about this. “I don’t own anything provocative. And where would we go?”
“You’ve got the whole afternoon. Go buy yourself a new dress. And I’ll ask Sam where we should go. He’ll know a good place with lots of available men.” She gave Nora a hug. “This is going to be so good for you.”
With that, Ellie hurried out, leaving Nora standing in the middle of her office. Nora drew in a shaky breath, then let it out slowly. The only way she’d feel really good tomorrow morning was if she woke up with a man in her bed: a long-limbed, hard-muscled male with nothing on his mind but multiple orgasms—her multiple orgasms.
Though Nora was determined to throw off the Prudence Trueheart persona, she wasn’t sure she could ever go that far. A one-night stand sounded so brazen, so impulsive, so far beyond anything she was capable of. She’d settle for something far less dangerous. Instead, she’d charm and bedazzle some stranger, perhaps even give him her phone number. She’d gather some real-life experience to pass on to her readers and reassure herself that she was still an attractive and desirable woman.
And at the end of the night, maybe she would feel a little more like Nora Pierce and a lot less like Prudence Trueheart.
2
A HAZE OF CIGARETTE SMOKE hung over the noisy crowd at Vic’s Sports Emporium, a popular watering hole near Fisherman’s Wharf. The blare of big-screen televisions, all tuned to different sporting events, mixed with the chatter of voices and occasional cheers. Distractions were plentiful at Vic’s. Even so, Pete noticed the woman the instant she walked in. Determined to keep his mind on the Giants’ game, he wrote off his interest as an instinctive reaction born of so many years on the make.
But his eyes were inexplicably drawn back to her, a slender, raven-haired beauty in a form-fitting black dress. Maybe it was the way she moved, the subtle sway of her hips, the gentle arch of her neck, the oh-so-cool expression. Something about her captured his attention, and he couldn’t help but stare. She didn’t belong in Vic’s, that much was certain. Vic’s was a beer-and-pretzel kind of place, and this woman was champagne and caviar all the way.
The clues were nearly imperceptible, at least to anyone who didn’t bother to look beneath the surface. But Pete had come across a lot of women in his dating days and he could tell real class when he saw it. Her dress—no doubt, designer labeled—fit her perfectly, hugging every curve of her body, yet coming nowhere near vulgar. It revealed only enough to tantalize: a glimpse of shoulder, a hint of cleavage, and just enough thigh to prove she had incredible legs beneath that skirt. No, she didn’t need to advertise her assets. For this woman, a guy could certainly use his imagination.
But there was more—the way her gaze drifted around the room, never resting on one subject for long. She’d caused a minor stir as she made her way to the bar—men turning to watch her pass, jaws slack, eyes slightly glazed—yet she didn’t notice her effect. Had her Mercedes broken down outside? Or had she somehow wandered out of a Nob Hill soiree and become lost in the fog? There wasn’t a guy in the place who wouldn’t give his right arm to help her. But they knew enough to keep their distance, not willing to risk an icy rebuff in front of friends.
Before she’d wandered in, Pete had been casually watching the ball game on one of the three televisions above the bar, nursing the same beer he’d bought during the first inning. It was only after she sat down at an empty spot midway down the bar that he realized she’d walked in with a companion, a woman he recognized instantly—Ellen Kiley! Pete grinned and picked up his beer. He hadn’t come to Vic’s to socialize, but maybe he’d consider changing his plans.
First, he was mildly curious why Ellie was out without Sam. Second, he thought it strange that Sam had never mentioned this beauty, never tried to set the two of them up. Maybe that was because Pete usually didn’t go for the high-society type. But after spending the first half of the ball game bothered with thoughts of Nora Pierce, he needed something or someone to get his mind off the Herald’s uptight little etiquette columnist.
All night long, his thoughts had constantly wandered back to their encounter in her office earlier that afternoon. Pete had known a lot of women in his life, and they always fell into one of two categories: lovers who had become friends, and friends who had become lovers. He’d learned by experience that the two were mutually exclusive. A woman couldn’t be both at the same time. Pete figured if he ever found a woman who could, he’d have to marry her.
But where did Nora Pierce fit in? She didn’t want to be his friend. And she certainly had no interest in becoming his lover. Hell, he wasn’t even sure she liked him! All he was really sure of was that, from the moment he had touched her, something had sparked between them, an attraction that was both irresistible and irrational. Every instinct he possessed told him to put Nora Pierce out of his head, but that was easier said than done.
Pete ordered another beer and watched Ellie