Last Friday, I shared the first part of the prologue of Too Many Women in the Room. You can read it here.
Here’s Part 2 of the Prologue:
He forced himself to slow down and hoped she would catch up, maybe even overtake him. Before making a move, he wanted to get a lay of the land. No point putting on the moves if she didn’t measure up. Though lately, he’d been less discerning.
Twenty years ago—heck even ten years ago—women in their twenties and thirties returned his winks and smiles, often boldly and with no qualms about what followed. But turning fifty-five had brought those encounters to a virtual standstill, and he had tired of the chase. Was this a harbinger of what old age would look like?
Within seconds, a flash of black appeared at his side. He counted to ten and then gave her a sideways glance. A frown replaced the smile.
Definitely in shape, but she had always taken care of herself, not allowing an extra morsel of food to cross her lips and sticking to a daily exercise regimen. Her face…well, her face showed the passages of time. And tonight, without a trace of makeup, she appeared older than her years. Forty-five. No, fifty. More than fifty. He struggled with the math and gave up.
Head-to-toe black did nothing for her. Once upon a time he would have volunteered that information, but tonight he hesitated. He couldn’t be sure how she would react, especially after the debacle at dinner. He tried to recall what she had said, but nothing came to mind. Perhaps she had said nothing at all. It would be like her to hide behind her passive-aggressiveness.
He forced a smile. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
No response, just a constant gaze and an expressionless face that was starting to worry him. He tried to look away but couldn’t escape those odd-colored eyes. A muddy green with hints of amber. Had she worn contacts in her younger days?