Welcome guest author, V J Devereaux with NIGHT MOVES

Welcome V J Deveraux and her new release, NIGHT MOVES, with this muy caliente cover!
Go over to www.jasminejade.com to purchase this one NOW!
Here is a nibble:
Unlike her last internet date, at least this was a high-class bar. It was dark, as all bars were, but there wasn’t any plastic. The accents were brass, not chrome, and the bar was real wood—soft, warm wood. That was promising. Even better, they had a piano player softly singing old standards as background music, not Muzak or vapid fake jazz.
Raphaela—Rafi to her friends—walked into the room confidently, negligently tossing her chestnut hair over her shoulder, hoping to hide any indication of uncertainty.
She wasn’t intimidated by the luxurious surroundings, or even the circumstances. Not really. Though some considered her job blue collar, that didn’t mean she couldn’t handle herself in these circumstances. She was pretty certain she could handle most situations, certainly in a place like this.
Nor was she uncomfortable with men’s eyes on her. She had gotten used to that about the time she had grown breasts. While she had been something of an early bloomer, she had bloomed very…healthily…as someone had put it. She didn’t have a problem with it. She liked sex a lot more than most, it seemed. But sometimes men forgot that there was a woman attached to the body, a person.
What was worse though was that it sometimes seemed as if one man weren’t enough to satisfy her. She was affectionate by nature and that had become a liability, rather than a bonus. Her love life hadn’t been stellar lately and her choices were a bit limited. Her hours were unpredictable and her job not very glamorous.
Internet dating had helped to narrow down the options, except when people lied. They lied a lot. They posted ten-year-old pictures, took off coke-bottle glasses. How could you start any kind of relationship well when you started it with a lie, a lie that indicated that you didn’t like yourself that much? A few extra pounds did not mean looking as if you were trying to smuggle a basketball under your shirt.
Frankly, she was getting a bit tired of it all but she was lonely and there were days when it would be nice to have someone to come home to. And to play with. She was normal, more or less, and healthy, with a slightly overactive sex drive. She smiled a little at the thought.
Still, what was a girl to do? She wouldn’t meet anyone remotely interesting any other way.
There was the usual assortment of businessmen of various heights and sizes sitting around the bar, one or two who looked intriguing and were probably married. She wouldn’t mind making a little conversation though, if this didn’t work out. Intelligent conversation.
One of her favorite songs was playing as she made her way to the bar, sat and ordered a drink.
Michael watched her walk into the bar, pleased to find that there were no surprises there. She was exactly as advertised, if anything, the picture hadn’t quite done her justice. The camera couldn’t capture that slight air of wry amusement. While she wasn’t classically beautiful, she was lovely, her eyes very pretty, bright and curious. Those pretty eyes were blue, a little stormy, her mouth finely shaped and firm.
She moved in rhythm to the music, her hips swaying, a small smile playing on her lips as she walked to the bar. He liked that too.
Her body?
He sighed in pure pleasure. That was very nice, just shy of hourglass, her breasts high and firm, hips rounded but tight, proportional. The dress was marvelous—fluid silk in a color to match those incredible eyes. It shifted over her body as she walked, the neckline revealing enough of her breasts to entice. Her legs were phenomenal, shapely and well muscled, with a dancer’s taut calves.
According to her online profile, she had eclectic tastes—everything from music to literature. That was important. He liked well-rounded women. He had to be able to talk to them. She liked almost everything he liked—most music but not the kinds he loathed, had read everything from the classics to fantasy and admitted to liking romance novels rather than acting as if she were ashamed of reading them. She seemed fairly open-minded as well as honest. That was also important.
Overall, he liked what he saw. Now, if only he liked what was inside the skin. He watched as she leaned an elbow on the bar to wait.
Michael walked toward the bar as she turned to see him coming.
Now, Rafi thought, that is very nice.
He was tall, a little shy of six feet or thereabouts, with a thick head of wavy black hair that fell nearly to his shoulders. A little long by today’s standards but at least he hadn’t buzzed it all off as so many men did these days. She didn’t want to run her fingers through something that felt like a horsehair sofa or a plush doll, she wanted to run her fingers through hair…and that was hair to run your fingers through.
Then there were his eyes, a brighter blue than her own, beautiful. His mouth was a little full, sensual. His features were aristocratic, his nose slightly aquiline. But that mouth…had she mentioned that she really liked his mouth?
He was undeniably handsome. Then there was his body. She took a breath. He moved loosely, easily, gracefully. That was very promising. Men who moved that well vertically tended to move that well horizontally too. There was a hint of muscle beneath the dress shirt, the suit fitting him beautifully, obviously tailored. She couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like naked. What was hiding underneath that marvelously fitted shirt? She wouldn’t mind running her hands over that crisp material to feel if those muscles were real.
Sex just seemed to pour off him, from the light in his eyes to the way he stood, the way he moved.
A rush of heat went through her. Maybe she’d get the chance to find out. There was a strong resemblance to the picture on the internet. She’d hit the jackpot. He was walking straight toward her.
It seemed that he was her date.
(Copyright 2009, V J Douglas)