And now, I really wanted the night to be over so I could go in, admire myself in my dress (which even I had to admit was fabulous) before I took it off and went to bed with a book.

What I didn’t want was for him to kiss me.

As was the way of my world, I didn’t get what I wanted.

He leaned in and kissed me.

It was short, not deep, and only included him curling a hand around my waist. His breath smelled of champagne and mint, which wasn’t all bad. And his lips were firm, which wasn’t all bad either.

Last, he didn’t go for tongues, which was a definite relief.

When he lifted his head, he said in a voice that I had a feeling was supposed to be sexy but missed the mark, “I’d like to see you again, Amy.”

God, I should never have invited him to call me Amy.

“Why don’t you call me?” I suggested, wishing, in all my boasting about being grown up, I was grown up enough to let a man I did not like down for any repeat dates face to face.

He pulled slightly away but not far enough for me. “I will, if you give me your number.”

Shit.

Now I was giving him my number!

Well, I’d successfully avoided my mother, who had my number. My best friend, who was alarmingly no longer using my number. And my father, who was rich enough to find commandos to track me down, kidnap me and bring me back to La Jolla to tie me to a chair and interrogate me about why I didn’t phone my mother.

I could avoid Boston Stone.

“Do you have your phone?” I asked.

This was a good move.

He shifted away, saying, “Certainly.”

He took it out.

I gave him my number.

He punched it in then bent and gave me another brief champagne, minty kiss before he leaned away and said, “Goodnight, Amy.”

“’Night, Boston,” I mumbled.

Then he stood there as I let myself in my front door.

I gave him a small smile as I closed the door and I did not wait a polite time so he wouldn’t hear me lock it against him.

I should have told Josie about my lunacy so I could call her and pick over that tediously boring date.

Or I should have shared with Alyssa.

Or I should have found a more mature way to deal with Robin so I could pick over everything with her.

Most especially the fact that, no matter how tedious, I had moved on so far that I was to the point of dating, something else which I wished I could pat myself on the back for.

On this thought, I wandered to my kitchen counter, dropped my sleek new clutch to it and pulled out my phone.