Then, once he’d arrived, he’d had to check into a hotel. Find where she worked, and then she’d made him wait while she talked to her mother. The man must have been in agony, but he’d never let her know it.
She kissed his cheek. “Rest.”
His heavy breathing was her only answer.
Her eyes began to drift shut, too. Might as well get some sleep now, because once Jeremy got his second wind, she suspected there wouldn’t be much time for sleep. Nine or ten times.
She’d just about joined him in rest when her body jerked and her mind sent off the warning sequence. In fact, it had probably been sending out the signal and flares all along, only to be drowned out by lust and desire.
Jeremy had driven all the way from Oklahoma just to see her. He’d mentioned he’d thought of nothing else. He’d deprived himself in order to be with her sooner.
Had he read more into their weekend together? Was Jeremy feeling more for her than just passion? If she weren’t careful, she’d shift into full-blown panic. And she hadn’t panicked since, well, she couldn’t think of a time when it had happened.
Actually, she could think of the last time she’d panicked. In a bed. In Oklahoma. With Jeremy.
CHAPTER NINE
IAN NUDGED HER HAND. “Ready to begin your observations? Check out this guy. He’s going to try and approach that girl sitting at the bar.”
The bar was more brightly lit than the rest of the club. Blue neon and lots and lots of bottles of alcohol backlit in front of a mirror. Dozens of high-backed chairs surrounded the serving area. Two women sat together talking over their glasses as a man made his way toward the pair.
Twenty-first-century man performing his mating ritual. This was exactly what Ian had wanted her to see. She settled back against the cushion of the couch to better monitor the situation.
Ian leaned closer to whisper into her ear so she could hear him above all the interesting noises in the bar. “She’s going to blow him out of the water. He didn’t do his legwork beforehand,” his tone slightly disbelieving.
Ava narrowed her eyes. Prime research, and she’d worn an outfit with no place to hide a notebook. Thank goodness he’d suggested the purse. “What do you mean?”
“Watch.”
The music thumped as she noted the predatory male approach the first woman and say something to her. The second female leaned over and spoke to the hunter. The man glanced down at the first woman he’d marked as his prey. She shook her head, and the man left. His shoulders stooped. His walk slower. Defeated.
“How did you know?” she asked, incredulous. And impressed. She was the one who was supposed to be the expert.
“First, look at the way he’s dressed. He’s a slob. You don’t dress like that to meet a woman. Women notice crap like shoes. You dress nice for women. Clean, pressed clothes. Nothing in the grill. Comb your hair. It’s a respect thing. This is war. You can’t give a woman anything that will make her shoot you down before you open your mouth.”
“This is fascinating stuff.” War?
“Now, look at their clothes. They’re in work clothes. They’re here to unwind from a day at the office. Contrast that against your outfit.” His gaze angled downward, stopped at her cleavage for a moment before working its way back toward her eyes. “You’re dressed for having fun. You’re the one men approach. Or at least men paying attention.”
“How come you don’t go over there and explain to that man why he failed?”
Ian shot her an incredulous look.
“In every culture, it’s the responsibility of the more knowledgeable to teach the rest. That way their traditions and mores are passed on to future generations.”
“In this culture, men don’t inform other men how to score. Why give another man the advantage in battle?”
“Battle? War? Scoring? It’s almost as if women are the enemy. There’s a study in this. I know it.” Ava opened her petite sequined purse and pulled out a small notebook.
“I can’t believe you brought that.”
“I’m always prepared for research.” She squinted at the blank page. “Never mind. I can barely see.” Ava replaced the pad in her purse and scanned the room.
“Not much research here anyway. Just your typical bar scene,” he stated matter-of-factly.
She scanned the room. “I almost feel sorry for men. It’s so dark in here. How can you even see the subtle cues and hints a woman drops?”
“Men adapt. And that’s what the beer is for,” he told her, lifting up his bottle as if making a toast. “False courage.”
“So how did you learn?”
Ian shrugged. “I’m a reporter. My main job is to study people, look for weaknesses so I can get the information I want.”
She’d have to keep that in mind. Was he hunting for her weakness even now? Ava shivered at the thought.
“But the main reason he failed earlier is because he didn’t take into account the cockblocker.”
Ava nearly choked on her appletini. “The what?”
He grinned at her. “Cockblockers are women whose main job is to block, or prevent, any man from infiltrating the group.”
“And women are aware of these roles?”
Ian leaned closer as if he were going to impart a big secret. “Ordinarily women aren’t around to hear it. I’m betraying man talk here.” Now this sounded very intriguing. “So are all men thwarted by the…cockblocker?”
“No, that’s when you bring in your wingman. The wingman approaches the women, paying attention to the cockblocker, buying her a drink, chatting, whatever. Now here is how the scenario is played out. Once the wingman is in place, the other man approaches and acts surprised. ‘I didn’t know you’d be here.’ Then the wingman introduces the two women and invites his friend to join them all.” He shifted away from her, his smile very satisfied. “Pure gold I just shared with you.”
“And you’ve tried this?” Ava asked, not bothering to hide the skepticism in her voice.
Ian shrugged. “Me? No, never. I prefer meeting women on my own.”
“Care to share how? Because this I’ve got to hear.” She leaned closer.
“Women don’t go for a man who looks like a loser. He has to look like someone who’s worth her time. Like I said, it’s a respect thing. A man’s got to have a game. A plan. You buy them a drink, never ask. You don’t feed them a corny line. You say hello, smile, ask them if they’re having a good time. Move on.”
“Move on?”
“Women are expecting you to hang around. Show them you’re interested then go back to your table. Or play pool. Just something else. It makes the woman curious. Confuses her. It’s a mystery thing. All women love a mystery.”
Ava couldn’t help it. She shook her head. “This is horrible. It’s like battle plans, miscues and deliberate confusion. There’s nothing sensual about it.” She scowled. “Wait a minute. You’re just messing with me like you did with the knights and the flower garland. I should have known. This sounds too unbelievable.”
“Really? You’ll never find out sitting here with me. There’s only one way for you to truly understand North American mating customs—you have to experience them. You go up to the bar.”
“And do what?”
“Wait.”
“For what?”
“To be approached. Run a tab, I’ll take care of that later.” Then his expression hardened. “Don’t worry, if anything weird happens, I’ll step in,” he assured her, his voice a little gruff.
Was he imagining other men trying to meet her and being jealous? Good.
Ava finished the rest of her drink, anticipation making her feel lighter. She adored participating in ceremonies and rituals from all over the world. That’s when she felt in her element. Like now.
“Try to work in some of those subtle seduction techniques from your book.”