Aren’t you seeing someone back in California? Dan? Drake?Īnd you still haven’t done the mattress mambo? Why do you have sex on the brain?ĭarcy sipped her strawberry daiquiri, a drink she’d confessed she hated but drank anyway, claiming men found it sexy. Apparently nothing could make her stick-straight brown hair look anything other than stick-straight. She ran her hand through her hair and discovered that all the bounce she’d tried to inject into it before heading to the Ice House Bar had deflated. And as for anecdotes, none of them involve sex so let’s not waste time with those. I save the insightful lectures for my students. We haven’t seen each other in two years and that’s all you’ve got to say? Come on, Professor, no anecdotes about life in Berkeley? No insightful lectures about Impressionist art? Like sex, perhaps.Īcross from her, Darcy White grinned. Sure, she was a team owner’s daughter, but occasionally it would be nice to focus on something other than hockey. Action shots of hockey players mid slap shot, framed rookie cards, team photos of the Chicago Warriors-it seemed as if the sport haunted her everywhere she went.
The pictures staring at her from the walls of the Ice House Bar didn’t help, either. The slightly bitter liquid eased her thirst but did nothing to soothe her frustration. She reached for the glass on the smooth mahogany tabletop and took a sip of red wine.
"I REALLY NEED to get laid," Hayden Houston said with a sigh.
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