By Mimi Wolske
Anyone can give a hug.
Six foot something was the anyone standing at the bottom of the escalator with something more than a welcoming smile. Arms outstretched, his feet under his broad shoulders, and...
Did he just wink?
I turned my head right, then left; no one was behind me so I turned back to acknowledge this long-legged, fit, and late thirties anyone, angled my head up to meet his eyes, and stared at him questioningly. The upward pull of his lips triggered a dimpling of his chiseled cheeks. Lord help me, he was too good looking to be real.
"Do I know you?"
I ask you, the reader, what else could I safely ask this stranger?
"Please don't tell me I've waited here for fifteen minutes and you're the wrong woman."
He smirked.
My mouth suddenly felt full of cotton balls.
"I am a woman but I've never been called the wrong woman before."
That devilish smile he donned never faded. His line of vision fell to my clumsy but dutiful shoes and slowly worked their way up to my astonished expression.
"Right! Nothing wrong with you. Detective Downy? Please tell me you're her."
"She," I said with a challenging grin. "Yes, I'm Debra Downy, detective Downy. And you are?"
That's me; Debbie Downy, five foot four inches, just turned thirty yesterday but still shy, and never prepared to deal with forward men. My head was still angled back enough to look up at mister slick.
"Relived, corrected, and very pleased to meet you."
He was just a little too pleased. I stretched both arms forward to ward off that enthusiastic hug that reached me in two long strides.
He side stepped my warning arms and my question. I asked again. "Your name?"
He took my carry-on from my relinquishing grip, disappointing me that my assumption his outstretched arms were ready to embrace me.
"Nothing near as soft and pleasant as yours. They call me Dev."
Dev? As in Devilish Handsome? Devil-May-Care attitude? "I'm absolutely sure they do, but I think I'd like your name and why you're waiting for me."
His eyelids fell and long, dark lashes kissed the ridges of those cheeks. I was lost starring at his lashes and feeling a little jealous when they lifted. His smile had disappeared.
"Detective Devlin Dixon; I've been waiting for you because you requested someone meet you at LAX."
Dev Dix. Figured I get Mr. Hunk with the suggestive name.
"Did you notice we're both double Ds?" His obvious grin told me he'd used that double D line before.
I rolled my eyes. "Yes. Did you notice saying all those Ds together might sound like you're stuttering, D-D-D-Dev?"
"I think we're going to get along great!" he said. "You have a quick wit and you're funny, too."
"Whoa, there, D-D-D-Dev. I'm here to work, not entertain. Your office called our office and asked for a criminal profiler; that's me. Where's your car?"
"Parked in the cool shade and awaiting you in the garage across the street."
Maybe I had gotten our introductions off to a bad start and maybe I shouldn't have judged the book by its cover. My dad always told me it was better to be safe than sorry.
Okay, so our first meeting was nothing but similes, metaphors, and cliches. It will always be the introduction I will forget.
