License to Date Read Online Free PDF Page B

right.”
    My mouth froze. “You’re not kidding?”
    He shook his head. “The Descending for Diabetes event costs a grand per ticket and I won two tickets on the radio. We’re going to rappel down from the swimming pool terrace, which is on the fifth floor. Isn’t that incredible?”
    “Yes,” I said, finding it incredible that he thought I’d rappel down the side of a freaking building. Staying calm, I glanced down at my silky dress, then held my finger up. “Let me just run home and change into my mountain climbing gear.”
    I was so not coming back.

 
     
    Chapter Four
     
    “Whoa.” Brian reached out and grabbed hold of my arm before I could head toward the lobby (and out the door). “Don’t worry about what you’re wearing, Kaitlin. That’s part of the fun of this Descending for Diabetes event. Everyone rappels down the building in their evening wear.”
    Making a mental note to never let my mom set me up again, I eased out of his grip. “No way, Brian. Everyone would be able to see up my dress. You should’ve told me to wear pants.”
    He shook his head. “They said the harness keeps everything covered.”
    The hostess reappeared—apparently having realized we hadn’t followed her—and gave us a questioning look. “Do you prefer to have your drinks on the event terrace?”  
    A drink sounded so good right now. Maybe two drinks. Maybe if I had enough drinks they wouldn’t allow me to go down at all. Hmm.
    “Yes, the terrace might work better since we’re getting pressed for time.” Brian checked his watch, slipped his arm around me, then started forward toward the elevator.
    “Brian,” I said, surprised to find my legs moving along beside him. “I can’t do this.”
    “Why not?” His brows came together as he punched the elevator button and gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’ve already given the radio show hosts our names and they’re interviewing us shortly. It’s for charity, Kaitlin. Your mom told me your cousin has diabetes.”
    Oh, way to lay on the guilt. “I give money every year, but—”
    “Your mom also told me you were outdoorsy and adventurous.” The elevator arrived and he motioned me in.
    “Really?” I sighed, knowing my mother would say anything to marry me into her country club. She would so not approve of a charming bartender. Shaking my head clear of Paul—who I shouldn’t even be thinking about since he hadn’t followed through on his napkin promise (and because I was on a date with another man)—I cleared my throat, then stepped inside the elevator. “How does the charity benefit if I work up the guts to do this?”
    He hit the button for the fifth floor. “Each participant, or ticket, costs a grand which is donated to diabetes research. The Geoffries hotel matches every participant’s donation once they’ve rappelled down the building.”
    “That’s very generous of the Geoffries.” In addition to fabulous drinks and hot bartenders (ugh, Paul on the brain again), the hotel also seemed to have a heart. Now I just needed to muster the courage to do this.
    We arrived to the fifth floor and the elevator doors opened with a ding .  
    Brian held his arm out. “Ladies first.”
    “Thank you.” I smiled politely—to mask the terror I felt inside—then stepped out onto the terrace, which was buzzing with waiters, music, and elegantly dressed guests. I might’ve been able to enjoy the festive outdoor atmosphere if I didn’t know it was only our jumping off point. Literally. “So my mother told me you’re an architect,” I said, needing a distraction.
    He slipped his arm around my waist and led me toward the bar. “That’s right. I’m doing independent contracting right now, but I used to work for—”
    “May I get you a drink?” A man asked from behind me.
    I stiffened. That voice. I knew that voice. That husky, manly, and yes, sexy voice. I’d dreamt about that voice last night. . . .
    Sure enough, when I turned around, my eyes connected