Write It Up!: Rapid Transit / The Ex Factor / Brewing Up Trouble. Elizabeth Bevarly

she thought. Maybe he was gay and still in the closet, and that was why he was hesitating. He was by far the most attractive and appealing man she’d met in a long time. He was well groomed and fashionably dressed. And her karma being what it was—namely, bad—it would be almost mandatory that any man she was attracted to who wasn’t a jerk was either gay or terminally ill, or had a chemical dependency or stalker tendencies.

      “What part of the arts community?” she asked.

      Seeming resigned now to having to give her a more complete answer, he sighed and admitted, “I’m a writer.”

      She brightened. A writer? Well, no wonder he hadn’t wanted to tell her what he did for a living. “I’m a writer, too,” she said. “I’m on the staff of Tess magazine.”

      “Tess,” Daniel echoed. “Women’s magazine, right?”

      She nodded.

      “I think I’ve seen it around.”

      Well, duh, she thought. Tess was only the training manual for every bad girl in the making, telling today’s young women not only what to do, say, wear, drink and buy, but also where to go. Uh, for clubbing and shopping and traveling, Julia meant.

      “So what kind of stuff do you write?” she asked Daniel.

      He seemed to hesitate again before finally telling her, “Right now, I’m working on a…a kind of travel piece that I hope will sell to Cavalier magazine.”

      “Cavalier,” she echoed in the same tone of voice he’d used to identify Tess. “Men’s magazine, right? I think I’ve seen it around.”

      “Touché,” he replied with a grin.

      Oh, she’d love to touché him.

      “But it’s not exactly a woman-friendly magazine, is it?” she added. “I mean, it’s not as bad as Playboy or Penthouse, but it isn’t exactly The Journal of Sensitive Men, either.”

      “I like to think of it as the magazine for men who never quite left their college fraternities behind.”

      Now Julia was the one to grin. “Apt description.”

      “And I like to think of Tess,” he added, “as the magazine for women who think Barbie is the quintessential female consumer.”

      “No, we think the Bratz dolls are the quintessential consumers,” she countered with a chuckle. “Barbie’s middle-aged now, after all. Not to mention monogamous. And much too wholesome for the likes of Tess. So you’re working on a travel piece?” she asked, turning the topic back to him. “I hope you’re not just in town for a visit.”

      He shook his head. “Oh, no. I’ve lived here since I started as an undergrad at Columbia twelve years ago.”

      Which would make him about twenty-nine or thirty, she thought, age being another area they had yet to cover. Funny how all their vital statistics seemed of no importance to either of them. They were too busy discussing all the philosophical quandaries of life—and college hoops—which Julia had barely ever touched on with guys before. Now that she thought about it, that went a long way toward explaining why so many of her past boyfriends had had such a short shelf life.

      “I went to Columbia, too,” she said. “I must have started the year you graduated. School of Journalism, right?”

      “Of course.”

      “We seem to have a lot in common,” she pointed out unnecessarily.

      “Yes, we do.” And, like Julia, he seemed to find that both interesting and agreeable. “So what kind of stuff do you write for Tess?”

      Julia told herself that was her cue to be evasive and vague, too, that there was no reason to tell him she was writing an article about speed-dating. She’d just started her research and would be attending a lot more parties like tonight’s over the next couple of weeks, even going out with some of the guys she met. That was something that could really put a crimp in any potential relationship she might start with Daniel. What guy wanted to date a woman whose objective was to date several men in a short span of time to see who was best?

      But Julia discovered, not much to her surprise, that she didn’t want to be dishonest with him. Lying could really put a crimp in any potential relationship she might start with Daniel, too. Besides, he was a journalist. He’d understand about getting a story. He’d know the research was just a part of the job.

      So, without hesitation or evasion, Julia told him, “Well, as a matter of fact, I’m doing a story on speed-dating. Consider yourself my first primary source.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      SOMETHING ICY AND ROCK HARD slammed into Daniel’s midsection at hearing Julia’s admission, and it was all he could do not to choke on his drink. “You’re writing about speed-dating for Tess?” he asked after he finally managed to swallow.

      Her laughter was touched by nervousness when she said, “Yeah. Pretty funny, huh?”

      He wasn’t sure if it was funny, but it certainly answered one question he’d been asking himself all evening. Namely, why would a gorgeous, funny, interesting woman like Julia need something like speed-dating to meet men? And she was covering the event for a story the same way he was. Interesting. He wondered if the objective of her article was also the same as his.

      As if he’d spoken the question aloud, she said, “I’m supposed to be looking for Mr. Right. See if speed-dating is a venue where a woman can find a forever-after kind of Prince Charming.”

      Ah. No. Hers wasn’t the same objective at all.

      “I and two other writers,” she continued, “have been assigned three different types of alternative dating to cover. They are doing coffeehouse dating—you know, where patrons of a coffeehouse fill out forms about themselves and stick them along with their photos in binders that the baristas manage?—and ex-dating. Which is where a woman sets up her ex-boyfriend with another woman. It’s big on the Web. We’re all supposed to see if we meet any decent guys for a feature story in the February issue. Valentine’s Day.”

      “And have you?” Daniel asked experimentally. “Met any decent guys, I mean?”

      She smiled, and that cold feeling in his belly suddenly went all warm and gooey. “Well, I can’t speak for the others—not yet, anyway—but speaking for myself, yeah. As a matter of fact, I have. I met one decent guy in particular at tonight’s party.”

      Oh, that’s what you think, sweetheart.

      Because Daniel wasn’t looking for Ms. Right. No, his editor at Cavalier wanted him to look for Ms. Right Now. A never-again kind of Princess Willing. Edward Cabot, editor in chief, had told Daniel that the object of his story was to see how many women he could pick up and have a one-night stand with over the course of a month of speed-dates. And that was exactly what Daniel intended to do.

      Julia was right about Cavalier. The glossy monthly didn’t exactly put women on a pedestal. Unless it was to look up their skirts. The magazine objectified them, poked fun at them and didn’t take them seriously for a minute. Daniel had never been bothered by that, because he didn’t take women seriously, either. At least, he hadn’t before. There was something about Julia, however, that made him want to reconsider.

      Bullshit, he told himself. Julia was no different from any other woman he’d met. Hell, she was no different from any other woman period. If he found her sexier or more appealing or sexier or more interesting or sexier or more intelligent or sexier than other women of his acquaintance, it was only because…Because…Because…

      Well, just because, that was why. And it was a damned good reason, too.

      She was just like every other woman he knew, he told himself more adamantly. And just like every other woman he knew, he was going to do or say whatever he had to in order to have sex with her. Then she’d become just one