It was almost 5 p.m. on a freezing Manhattan afternoon by the time Darby Watral closed her unpacked suitcase, grabbed the black, beaded cashmere scarf she had left dangling over a chair and left her room for a quick visit to the hotel's bar.

As she entered the elevator, a gorgeous, well-dressed gentleman stepped aside to allow her space. His black penetrating eyes met hers until she broke his admiring gaze to face the doorway.

Good Lord, Darby thought. No one has checked me out like this since high school. She could feel his eyes burning into her back as he admired her figure, from her beautiful, gold hair to her well-turned legs.

She hurried through the door when it stopped in the hotel lobby. The man gently touched her arm and said, "Hello, my name is Randy. Randy Bush. I can't help wondering if you'd like to have a drink with me?"

Darby turned to gaze at him and lifted her eyebrows to convey her own interest.

"Well, Randy," she said, "My name is Darby Watral. I'd be happy to drink you."

"Oh," she squealed, horrified by what had just popped out of her wide mouth. "I mean, I'd be happy to have a drink with you."

Darby stole a glance at him, and although he didn't laugh, Darby couldn't miss the laughter dancing in Randy's eyes.

"This should be a very interesting evening," Randy said, as he put his hand on the small of her back to gently guide her to a seat in the Oak Room.