Dating Without Novocaine

Dating Without Novocaine
Lisa Cach

For twenty-nine-year-old Hannah O'Dowd, finding a decent man in Portland, Oregon, is like pulling teeth!Luckily, the self-employed clothing designer has a job she loves and friends to help ease the pain: oversexed Cassie (always good to have the opposite perspective, Hannah notes), analytical Louise (too much perspective not always good) and an in-the-flesh tooth puller, dentist Scott (could prove useful). But as she nears the big 3-0, she begins to realize that dating frantically may truly be the only solution to finding Mr. Maybe.So, pumped up on nothing but drive and determination, Hannah cuts loose on her romantic quest. In fact, she kisses so many frogs she fears she'll turn green. (Note: While paling in comparison to her paralyzing fear of anything dental related, acquiring froglike qualities from hanging around losers–still not good.)And she's only just begun!

“People are like fabrics: some are silk,

some are flannel. You have to be careful

which ones you try to sew together.”

—Hannah O’Dowd

To Anna, of course

Dating Without Novocaine

Lisa Cach

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks to Anna Dudey and Scott Bodyfelt, who provided invaluable information on their professions.

To my extraordinary agent, Linda Kruger.

To my friends, whose experiences were rich sources of inspiration.

And to all the poor saps who’ve gone out with me, not knowing any better.

Contents

One: Sequins and Gossamer

Two: Orange Tiers with Bric-a-brac Trim

Three: Gypsy Scarf

Four: Black Leather

Five: Mourning Clothes

Six: Silk vs. Spandex

Seven: Green Plaid

Eight: Rubber Boots

Nine: Synthetic Fur

Ten: Tighty Whities

Eleven: Walking Shoes

Twelve: Embroidered Linen

Thirteen: Polyester Brocade with Garters

Fourteen: White Satin

Fifteen: Nasty Sweater

Sixteen: Blue Uniform

Seventeen: Pink Panties

Eighteen: Tapestry with Fringe

Nineteen: Shoulder Pads and Falsies

Twenty: Latex

Twenty-One: Wet Terry Cloth

Twenty-Two: Blue Medallion Print

Twenty-Three: Old Denim

Twenty-Four: Green Piqué

Twenty-Five: Percale Sheets

Twenty-Six: Running Tights

Twenty-Seven: Pale Gold Accessories

Twenty-Eight: White Silk for Another Day

One

Sequins and Gossamer

Portland, Oregon

“A noint your sacred body parts,” Sapphire said, passing ’round a small blue-and-white Chinese bowl. “I made this rose water with the petals of flowers from my own garden, plucked under the full moon to call forth the power of the Goddess.”

I slanted a look at Cassie, seated cross-legged next to me on a cushion on the wooden dance floor. She was wearing a short top that ended just below her breasts in a row of dangling, shimmering silver disks, her slightly poochy belly bare above the heavy belt of coins around her hips. She narrowed her tilted elf-green eyes at me in warning.

The bowl came to me, the rose water a dark burgundy that smelled safe enough when I gave it a cautious sniff. I dunked my fingers in the water and dabbed the stuff on my throat and wrists like perfume, and passed the bowl on to Cassie.