Chapter 4

John tried, he really did. But he simply couldn't help himself when he raised his hand to his mouth and yawned. Well, at least he managed to be discreet about it. It was another company ball where every person of self-proclaimed importance got together to pat each other on the back. John sighed in disgust. He didn't even have to be here. He had already gotten what he wanted from previous parties. Besides, with the new President seeming to have a personal interest in his activities he decided not to pull any funny business.

Speaking of whom, Samantha was making her rounds hobnobbing with her underlings. John supposed that meant him as well but, like he explained to her last month at Allesio's, he wasn't intimidated by her nor did he consider her better than him, or himself better than her for that matter. He had learned lessons in power during his year of debauchery when he first explored the advantages of MC-125 coursing through his veins.

"Still wearing gloves, I see."

John braced himself as he looked up and faced the pair of breathtakingly green eyes. He surprised himself by how well he remembered every little detail of her enchanting face. "Well, it is a ball," he managed to reply. "And white gloves aren't totally out of place."

"True, but a little outdated."

"Call me old fashioned." She was testing him. Why, he didn't know.

"Trying to climb the ladder again, Mr. Arrons?" She was trying to unseat his aplomb by changing the subject to even more dangerous territory. Well, two can play at this game.

"Not really," he replied. Her eyes questioned him challengingly. "Actually, I came to see if you'd back out at another invitation to dinner with me."

Trapped! John smiled inwardly. Ms. Summers would have to back off now.

"Very well." John stopped himself from firing off his readied reply. She said what? "You can give me the details some time later. If you'll excuse me, I have other guests to entertain."

John watched her saunter off to the head of the AIDS research department as his jaw hit the floor. Trapped!

John's gloves were starting to irritate his skin as his palms sweat profusely within their leather sheaths. Steadily, he worked up his nerve and fingered the doorbell of the large Victorian estate. He waited outside in the chill evening air as he rocked his weight from the front of his feet to his heels then back again. God, when was the last time he actually went on a date? The large oak door swung open and John was greeted by those lovely, green eyes.

"Hi," John managed to squeeze out of his throat and pulled out the bouquet of white roses from behind his back. "These are for you."

Samantha smiled at the offering and accepted them graciously then went inside to put them in some water. John noticed her graceful womanly figure beneath the white sweater and beige stretch pants she wore. "Still wearing gloves, John?" she asked when she got back.

"You keep bringing that up."

"You keep wearing them," she fired back. They both laughed. "So where are we off to tonight?"

"You look like a jazz person, so I thought we could head over to the 'White Saxophone' and get to know one another a little better."

"My, my. First date and you're already making assumptions," she commented.

"Am I wrong?" John challenged.

The redhead smiled. "I never said that. Yes, I like jazz. Let's go." Samantha looked in her driveway to find a deep forest green Lexus. "No motorcycle?"

John shook his head. "Not tonight, no. I thought we would be a bit more comfortable in a car tonight. We can ride my black steed another night." John opened the door and let her in then sprinted over to the other side and started up the car.

"More assumptions, Mr. Arrons? You seem to think that there will be a second date." She paused to look at her watch. "And we're hardly even ten minutes into the first one."

"Call me confident."

"Arrogant."

"True," he grinned as he pulled out of her driveway and headed for the freeway. They chatted while he drove until they reached their destination in the active part of downtown nightlife. John tossed the keys to the valet and escorted his date through the front door. The club was already hopping with activity. The live band was blaring a hot tune while patrons got drinks at the bar and listened at their tables. The whole place had a smoky aura to it, like from an old movie. John and Samantha found a table near the back so they could talk comfortably and still be able to hear the music.

"Nice place," Samantha commented. "I must say, I haven't had a good dose of live jazz in a while."

"Then I chose well."

"So far," his date commented.

John smiled. He could tell that Samantha was enjoying herself despite the airs she waved about. He had to wonder, though, why was she so determined to be difficult. He knew it was just an act. Hell, she knew it was an act. But why?

A waitress walked up to them and asked if they wanted anything to drink. They both perused the wine list and decided on a bottle of Merlot. Samantha looked at the menu next and asked what was good.

"Well, I never made a big deal about their food. I come here for the music. I suppose you might want to try the House burger."

"Burger and wine?"

"Sure, why not? Wine goes with everything."

Samantha was about to fire off a scathing remark but then thought better of it. He was right. The right wine could go with any food and a red wine could go well with a burger. John smiled to himself as he saw the inner conflict play across her face.

"You're really trying to be difficult, you realize," John commented. "Why not just enjoy yourself?"

Samantha cast an annoyed look at him but then softened her expression. "Is it that obvious?"

"Kind of," John answered off-handedly. "Look, I know that you accepted my invitation just to spite me on the battle field, so to speak, at the dinner party. I can understand that. But you could at least admit to yourself that you do enjoy my company." John smiled. "And admit that you were outmaneuvered, too."

Samantha grumbled a bit under her breath. "Alright. You got me. I do enjoy your company." She took a deep breath but her eyes remained as hard as stone. "And you had me cornered at the dinner party."

John decided to be tactful and didn't smile. "I'll tell you a secret, though. You completely surprised me when you agreed to see me. I didn't even consider that possibility. You are a dangerous woman."

A carnal smile etched across her face at the small victory; it sent a shiver up John's spine. "I know."

"My father always told me that I should be afraid of attractive women, doubly so if they're smart," John took a sip of his wine.

"Do I frighten you?"

"I think a better word would be terrify."

Samantha's head tilted back and let out a throaty laugh that made John's spine shiver in arousal. "So tell me, why do you wear gloves all the time?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"That is why I asked," she pressed. Her eyes bored into him.

John's forehead burned from the intensity. He took a sip of his wine and held her eyes in his. "Why do you want to know?"