It's in His Kiss by Caitie Quinn Page A

kissing a guy feels the first time.” Her earlier words still stung, so I added, “You’ve had plenty of experience in the first kiss department.”
    A sigh blasted my ear. One of those declare-yourself-a-martyr sighs.
    “First off Jenna, I think what you need to do is just get out there. Get your own first kisses. Get your own life.”
    I could almost hear her shrug over the phone.
    “Second, your character isn’t you. Her boyfriend is imaginary . He’s not going to convince her to go to the same college, propose the middle of junior year, stand her up at the altar because his frat brothers called him an idiot at the bachelor party the night before, and then try to convince her they should still have sex on the side. That stuff only happens to you.”
    That was painful. True, but painful. And kind of rude. Okay, more than kind of, but I was feeling desperate.
    “You’re no help.” If the queen of the pick-up couldn’t help me, I was out of luck.
    “Oh, I’ll help all right,” she answered. “Actually, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Meet me outside O’Leary’s at ten and I’ll be more help than you could have wished for.”

TWO
     
     
    “What is that?” I asked as Lisbeth stepped from the cab.
    “What is what?”
    “That outfit.”
    “Oh, this?” Lisbeth waved a hand in front of the sackcloth she was trying to pass off as a dress. “Cloak of invisibility.”
    Sometimes her logic was so…um…different, I struggled to follow it, let alone understand it. “I don’t mean to start one of those conversations where we repeat everything the other person said, but, cloak of invisibility ?”
    She adjusted the loose fitting fabric on her shoulders. “Last night, Jeremy said he never would have asked me out if I didn’t have such a, and I quote, ‘hot little body only a bimbo should possess.’ I’m senior marketing consultant at a huge company and he dated me to get it on with my body.”
    “And so you’re hiding it to date men who are only interested in your mind?”
    She nodded. I doubted she was unaware of her beautiful face with flawless hair and make-up. Below the short, loose dress stuck out perfectly shaped legs leading down to —
    “What the hell are those?” I waved at her clunker-shod feet.
    Lisbeth shrugged. “They match the cloak of invisibility.”
    “Where did you get them?” There’s no way she paid money for those. Well, maybe if they had a brand name I couldn’t pronounce and a three-digit price tag.
    She pointed a toe, still looking dainty in the black, female version of steel toe boots. “I think you left them at my house.”
    I fought the urge to roll my eyes before I realized it might be true. “You can’t really expect to go out wearing that?”
    “Oh, like you’re one to talk Miss I’m-Dressed-Like-Our-waiter.”
    “What?” I glanced down at myself, somehow unsurprised I’d ended up not even knowing what I’d put on. “Darn it.”
    “My dress doesn’t look so bad now, does it?” There was that smug thing again. Why could I never pull off smug? Or look like that in a sack dress.
    Or a cocktail gown.
    “I put on the black capris and a pink top, but the pink top needed to be ironed.” Actually, just about everything I owned needed to be ironed. Always. “So I put on the white top with a navy skirt, but it was too snug. Then I tried that grey dress, but it looked too ‘librarians gone bad’ for a bar. So I just put on the two most comfortable things and left the house.”
    Lisbeth smirked as only a gorgeous woman could. Slightly arrogant yet still gorgeous. “Nothing screams ‘can I take your order’ quite like a white button-down short sleeve shirt and black pants.”
    “Can we just do this?” I pushed. Not that I wanted to head into one of those underlit-overheated holes, but getting it over with was a plus. Glancing at her outfit, I added, “We should stop at an ATM. You might have to pay a cover and buy your own drinks.”
    Lisbeth got