Dating and Other Dangers. Natalie Anderson

Out. Totally smooth snake who’s only interested in sex. Moves on immediately after. Serial dating offender, seriously arrogant. More than one victim has commented.’

      ‘He used that to get you to agree to go on a date with him?’

      ‘Three dates.’

      ‘Three?’ Megan started to giggle. ‘Oh, he’s good.’

      ‘He’s not good. He’s mad.’

      ‘But he won’t waste money suing. Just tell Hammond you run the site. They won’t care. It’s in your own hours and on your own equipment.’

      ‘I worked too hard to get that job. I’m not screwing it up.’ Independence mattered—achievement mattered. Nadia wasn’t failing now, having secured a great flat and a great job when no one in her family had believed a “little thing” like her could—or, worse, should. They’d thought a big city was too bad a place for her, so she’d gone to the biggest city in the country and got employed by one of the biggest, most traditional-to-a-T firms. That was the only way she could to prove herself to them—they’d just be baffled by her blog.

      ‘I’m reading the thread. He sounds interesting.’ Megan drew in a long, slow breath. ‘Good sex. When did you last have sex?’

      Nadia banged the wardrobe door shut. It was all right for Megan. She and Sam were still in that honeymoon phase, so she was getting it at least twice a day. Nadia hadn’t had it twice in the last year. Or two.

      ‘Nadia.’ Megan’s tone totally changed. ‘Did you see his reply?’

      Nadia’s blood iced up. ‘There wasn’t one.’ She ran into the lounge, where her computer dominated the dining table. Praise be to highspeed broadband, because the thread loaded in a flash. And it only took a flash to realise what he’d done.

      ‘He’s made it public. The dates.’ Her throat clogged. ‘Why? Everyone is going to know we’re going out.’ And there was going to be a victor? Oh, she’d been right. This was war.

      ‘Well, they know he is.’ Megan morphed into the voice of calm. ‘You’ve still got your anonymous ID. There’s a link to a blog. He has a blog?’

      ‘It’s new, and I’m already reading it,’ Nadia said grimly, quickly skimming the post and growing all the more aggravated.

      But Megan giggled. ‘I can’t wait for him to “nail” you on the second date.’

      ‘He’s a conceited jerk. He’s not nailing anything.’ Certainly not her. And she certainly wasn’t feeling a quiver of excitement at the thought. The quiver was suppressed rage.

      ‘He’s good-looking, right?’ Megan asked. ‘He must be to be this confident.’

      ‘If you like over-sized macho men who think they’re it and everything else.’ Physical invincibility didn’t do their personalities any favours, and she didn’t need the over-protec-tiveness that tended to accompany their delusions of demi-god status.

      ‘He sounds just the ticket.’ Megan had pepped up. ‘What are you going to wear?’

      Nadia bit back her growl. She knew Megan wanted her to be as loved-up and happy as she was, but she didn’t want to be attractive to Ethan—she wanted armour. Fortunately high-pitched beeps interrupted whatever Megan was saying now.

      ‘I have to go, Meg,’ Nadia said quickly. ‘I’ve got another call.’ She jabbed the buttons. ‘Hello?’

      ‘Nadia.’

      From the frying pan to the fire. Just her luck. ‘Ethan.’ Those infernal goosebumps smothered her skin. She refused to recognise the other instant reaction deep and low in her belly.

      ‘Wednesday night good for you?’ No preamble or polite chit chat—but his voice was caramel enough.

      Wednesday. Mid-week and only two days away. She needed more prep time. ‘Actually, I already have plans for Wednesday,’ she lied. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Not at all.

      ‘Thursday, then?’

      ‘I could do Thursday.’

      ‘I was thinking a movie or something.’

      Total fail on the originality front, but she’d get him back—because she’d read his stupid blog. She wasn’t going to let him know she’d read it. Damn. She suddenly realised that he would know if he checked his traffic stats and knew her ISP. Which he obviously did—he seemed to know way too much about her internet activity. She quickly took a screenshot and logged out of the site. She’d only check it from wireless hotspots now, at random coffee bars or something.

      ‘That sounds great,’ she said with zero enthusiasm. ‘Can I choose the movie?’

      ‘Of course.’

      She paused. ‘How did you get my number?’

      ‘Same way I found out you’re the woman behind WomanBWarned. There’s a lot of information out there on the internet.’

      ‘But it’s secure.’

      ‘Never as secure as you think. I’ll pick you up from your place.’

      ‘You know where I live?’ Now, that was scary.

      ‘Sure.’ She could hear his smile. ‘On the corner of Bitter and Twisted Street, right?’

      ‘What a shame you won’t get lost.’

      ‘I don’t plan to,’ he drawled, in a way that made her shiver more. ‘Text me all your details and I’ll let you know what time.’

      ‘Oh, I can’t wait,’ she cooed, just to get the last word in.

      She tossed her phone onto the sofa and stared at the words frozen on her huge screen. It was the “divette” that did it. The patronising, belittling, condescending bastard.

      Damn it, she was going shopping. She wanted to look more than nice. She wanted to look hot. So hot he couldn’t help but want her and make his one move too many. The possibility was there—she’d seen the flash in his expression when he’d looked her over so boldly in her office today. Definite sparks. And she didn’t deny she’d responded on a basic level. But she could control her own reaction while blowing harder on those sparks. Get him hot. And then—when he made his move—she’d refuse him. And that would be so incredibly satisfying.

      Nadia wasn’t conceited, but she didn’t underestimate her potential strengths either. She knew she had a little something that intrigued some men. Little being the operative word. A lot of guys liked petite women. Funnily enough, it was often the taller guys who liked petite women most. Nadia figured it made them feel all the more manly. Men like that loved to be looked up to. Literally.

      Ethan the Arrogant would definitely like being looked up to.

      So she’d do the pretty little woman thing and emphasise her femininity. She went back to the WomanBWarned thread and looked at the comments from the women who’d dated him. She was curious to know more—as moderator she could e-mail them and surreptitiously try to get more info. A possibility she’d definitely keep on file. But if what they said was true then a move from Ethan was probably inevitable, no matter what she wore. Sexual conquest was as natural to him as breathing. It wasn’t that he was interested in the individual woman—it was the chase that thrilled him. Pure predator.

      But she wanted to turn the screws on him as hard as she could, so she had to make herself more attractive prey. Because she was going to be the woman to put him in his place.

      CHAPTER THREE

      SHE had found the best ever dress. Not evening formal, but floaty, floral and ultra-feminine. A little pricey, but it was worth it. She teamed it with soft ballerina flats rather than strappy heeled sandals, to really highlight the height