Why didn’t she own thongs? Or anything silky or lacy? Even prudes should at least own more than Hanes.

This was ridiculous. It wasn’t as though anything was going to happen tonight. For all Renee knew, Dan had simply invited her to his sailboat as a friend.

Men and women can’t be friends.

The famous When Harry Met Sally line ran through her head. She wished Tansy was here. Her daughter would help her choose the right outfit. Although, judging by her new Internet personality, maybe she’d put her in a crop top and low-rise jeans before suggesting they move their date to Ye Olde Watering Hole to do body shots.

After settling on a pair of black briefs (black cotton had a whiff of sensual, right?), Renee chose a floral wrap dress and nude wedges. She tamed and twisted her red hair into a sleek and simple updo, and smacked her lips with sheer gloss. She stood in front of her full-length mirror inspecting herself with the sort of scrutiny a woman so unfairly reserves for her own appearance and did a final twirl. Hmmm. Her boobs didn’t look half bad. The mascara brought out her eyes and—

“Crap!” she gasped, pulling the back of her dress out of her underwear.

That would have been quite the statement.

She spritzed perfume on her wrists and neck. She loved the floral, slightly spicy scent. Why didn’t she wear it more often?

She carefully walked down the stairs and stood in front of the window, waiting for Dr. Dan in the very spot Tansy used to stand while watching for rides to soccer practice or National Honor Society meetings.

At exactly six thirty on the dot, he pulled into the driveway in his black Toyota Highlander.

She liked that he wasn’t the sort of guy to drive a flashy sports car. And she liked that he always seemed to have a few stubborn hairs out of place on the top of his head. She liked, well she liked him.

Here went nothing.

She gathered her purse and locked the door behind her.

“Oh! Do you need to use the bathroom?” she asked, surprised to see him coming up the front walk. He was wearing khakis and a crisp, button-up shirt. He had the slightest five-o’clock shadow and smelled like woodsy cologne.

“I wanted to escort you out.” Dr. Dan smiled, checking her out from head to toe. “But you beat me to it.”

So, this is a date.

He opened the passenger-side door for her, and she slid inside as neatly as possible, trying to keep her skirt from hiking up. “I’m not used to SUVs.”