I glanced in the mirror again and scowled at my reflection. I needed something else.  Maybe more eyeliner.  Maybe a few more minutes with the hairbrush.  Maybe...

"Would you relax already?  You look fine.  Hell, you look better than fine--you're fuckin' hot.  His jaw's going to drop it like Snoop Dog when he sees you, and every guy in the whole damn arena...except me, of course...is going to be insanely jealous of him all night long."

I glanced away from the mirror long enough to stare doubtfully at my best friend's  boyfriend.

"Diana, in the event that you're still staring skeptically at AJ, here's the short version of his speech; we're going to be  late.  Get your ass out of the bathroom and into the elevator now."

I groaned inwardly and cast one last look at the mirror.  I knew Taylor well enough to know that she wasn't kidding.  The girl HATES to be late.

Still, I felt like the ensemble was lacking something.  I glanced uncertainly at the bottle of perfume on the table.  One more spray, maybe?

"DIANA!"

Taylor's exasperated shriek yanked me from my reverie.

"Relax!  I'm coming!"

As soon as I emerged form the bathroom, Taylor shot me an expectant look, complete with the arched eyebrow.  "You're telling me to relax," she repeated doubtfully, her voice full of disdain.  "Does anyone else see the irony here?"

I rolled my eyes in annoyance.  "I'm not nervous."

"I never said you were nervous."

"No, but you did say something about being late," AJ interjected pointedly, waving us both out the door, "and you're absolutely right.  We need to get going.  Now.  We're even starting to push the limits of Backstreet Time."  He turned to me with a small smile as we boarded the elevator.  "You do look nice, though. Really.  You're going to blow the blonde kid away with that dress."

That dress was an off-the shoulder, floor-length number in copper taffeta.  It had a lovely beaded square neckline that tapered to a tight-fitting taffeta camisole.  Over the camisole, a sheer bodice of beadwork with free-flowing sleeves gave the ensemble a more ornate feel.  The skirt had a shimmering upper layer that fit tightly to the curves of my hips and legs, but flared out at the bottom to reveal a plethora of netting underneath.  It wasn't low-cut or showy, but it was tight enough to be suggestive, and the absence of a back made it that much more enticing.

I'd told Nick the Cowboys fan the color of the dress so he could coordinate his tie appropriately.  The boys had been told to wear suits to the affair, so they weren't allowed to be quite as creative with their wardrobes.  AJ, however, had made an attempt at a statement with a ripped and patched pinstripe suit and an open-collar Oxford shirt.  Taylor, however, managed to compliment him well with a halter dress in ruched white satin.

Their accessories?  His and hers bondage collars.

They had offered to grab a pair for Nick and I, but "classy" had become my theme for the evening.  Ever since our intriguing first conversation, Nick and I had been chatting idly about the beauty of contradiction, and I wanted to prove to him that I was every bit a lady, despite what my profession might suggest.

I also wanted to avoid thinking too hard about the fact that I wanted to prove anything to him.

"Why would I care what the blonde kid thinks about my dress?" I demanded pointedly, much too late.  The window of opportunity to preserve my feminist's dignity had come and gone.

Taylor turned to me with a smirk.  "What, you want a list?"

"Don't think we don't know you've been talking to him," AJ chimed in with a grin.

And by talking, he means we've had three conversations, none of which lasted longer than an hour.

"I talk to everybody," I retorted with a roll of my eyes. Even as I said it, though, I knew it wasn't true.  Years of a purely academic focus had forced me to keep other people at bay, and I rarely let conversations continue past the classroom doorframe or the countertop at the bar.

Nick the Cowboys fan had become an exception, though.  The boy oozed intrigue, but he did it with such a casual air that I couldn't help but be--gasp--impressed.  We'd had a number of good conversations, sure, but I wanted to hold his attention in a one-on-one situation.

Of course, God forbid I admit any of this to the two people in the world with the right to deliver the phrase "I told you so."

"Everybody, huh?" Taylor pried with a smirk.  "When was the last time you had a sober conversation that didn't involve a lab report or a Backstreet Boy?"

I was effectively silenced.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to AJ instead.  "So...how is this playing out, exactly?  Where are we meeting him?"

"In the lobby," AJ grinned.

"And by the lobby, he means the hotel's back entrance," Taylor clarified with a sigh.  "Unfortunately, the hordes of teenyboppers have taken up residence at the front of the hotel, so we're officially doing the Backstreet Bond thing."

"She's right," AJ admitted with a sigh.  "We're also meeting the bodyguards downstairs, so you and Nicky-boy probably won't get a chance to have a private conversation of mutual admiration until we're actually seated at the awards."

I tried to ignore the way that particular admission made my heart sink.  Three freaking conversations with this boy and I was already eager to spend alone time with him?  Why?  So we could talk about our feelings?

Taylor was right.  It had been way too long since my last date.

The elevator came to a smooth stop on what I assumed to be the ground floor, and AJ leaned towards me warningly.

"So...you're about to meet the great Nick Carter.  Try not to drool all over him, okay?"

I rolled my eyes for the countless time since our arrival in Los Angeles.  "I'll do my best..."

"Promise me something?"

I was caught off-guard by the somber tone.  AJ is a lot of thing on a daily basis, but serious is rarely on the list.  "Sure."

"Be nice to this guy, Heads.  We give him a lot of shit, but he really is a good guy, and I don't want you to eat him for breakfast...or dinner, as the case may be."

I turned my head until we locked gazes so he could see the concern in my eyes.  "I'm not..."

"I know," AJ interrupted, holding up a hand to cease my rebuke.  "Just...he's my little brother, okay?  And I know you, Diana.  You're brilliant and sexy and charming--but you're also a hell of a handful when you want to be.  He's not going to harass you, though, so...go easy on him, okay?"

I sucked in a deep breath and tried not to be offended by AJ's obviously protective nature.  Normally, I would've countered the warning with one of my own, but something in AJ's voice warned me that this wasn't about establishing oneself as a capable party.

"Okay."

He smiled his genuine Alex smile at me and reached for Taylor's hand.  "Thanks."

I nodded uncertainly.  "But AJ?"

He leaned in expectantly.  "Yeah?"

I cracked a small, reassuring smile.  "You don't have to worry about Nick.  I know I'm a handful, but...he can hold his own."

AJ grinned appreciatively.  "Yeah.  Yeah, he can."  He paused to give me the once-over with an approving smile.  "I'm glad I introduced you two."

Thankfully, we were whisked out of the elevator before I could express my agreement.  Suddenly, I was face-to-face with four beefy-looking men in suits and earpieces with menacing snarls and their arms folded across their chests.

Taylor leaned over to me with a smirk, her satin making a satisfactory rustle as she moved closer to my taffeta.  "Is it just me, or did this awards operation suddenly morph into a bad episode of Mission: Impossible?"

I bit my lip to keep from laughing at the astute observation.  "Not just you," I assured her in a whisper.  "I thought you said you'd done the Backstreet thing before?"

"Not like this," she whispered back.  "We only had one of the muscle men the last time I did this, and he actually knew how to smile."

"Ink is secure.  Request to join vehicle."

My eyebrows buried themselves in my hairline at the ridiculous code talk.  Having seen Alex in his boxers, I was more than sure of Ink's identity.  I had no idea what was going on, though.

Taylor, always one step ahead of me, tugged impatiently on AJ's sleeve.  "Babe...what the hell's going on?"

"Probably a security breach," AJ muttered with a roll of his eyes.  "One of the fans probably made it into a no-fan zone, and everyone's freaking out now."  He heaved a sigh and fished in his pocket until he found his cell phone.  Within seconds, he was waiting not-so-patiently for an answer.  "Yo, Kaos...it's Bone.  Where are you guys?"

He listened for a moment.

"No, I can hear you just fine.  I'm standing here with Marcus and the rest of the posse.  Are you guys in a car yet?"

All of a sudden, the distant strains of a higher-pitched voice came echoing towards us.  "Nah, man, we're still waiting for one of the limos.  Management says that we have to arrive at the same time, or the others would be on their way."

AJ hung up the phone and slipped it back in his pocket, shaking his head in what appeared to be amusement.  "Nick!  Get over here, dude!"

The voice got closer immediately, and my heart began to beat just a little bit faster.

"Man...did you just hang up on me?  I was still talking!"

"You're always talking," AJ retorted loudly, earning a glare from one of the security folk standing guard over our little trio.  "Shut up and introduce yourself to your lovely date for the evening."

AJ cast an amused glance in my direction, but I didn't even take the time to counter his unspoken implications.  The anticipation was mounting in that God-awful movie-moment kind of way, and I found myself standing on my tip-toes to see around the walls of stone that were blocking my vision.

See, in all of the time I'd spent on the phone with Nick the Cowboys fan, I'd never bothered to look up a picture of him.  Taylor had shown me the group photo that adorned their first CD cover, but I had yet to see any portrait of Nick that didn't involve a bowl cut and the awkward stature that comes with being fifteen.

"Would if I could see her..." I heard him retort from behind the row of bodyguards.  "Hey, Marcus, can you make way for the skinny guy?"

One of the bodyguards glanced doubtfully over his shoulder.  "I thought AJ was on the other side of me..."

The most beautiful blonde man I had ever seen emerged from behind the guy dubbed Marcus.  "Funny, man...really funny."  He reached up to adjust his copper-colored tie before glancing expectantly in our direction.  "J, man...the show hasn't even started yet, and you've already ripped the pinstripes?"

"It's his thing," Taylor replied with a tinge of ridicule.  "He can't wear nice clothes in public, or it ruins the bad boy illusion."

"Oh, I'm well aware," Nick laughed, pulled Taylor into a hug.  "I love this number you've got going, though."  He fingered the bondage collar with a grin.  "I'm assuming you've got the leash for this?"

Taylor winked at him.  "Nah, I don't need a leash.  He's well trained."

One look at AJ's adoring smile, and it was obvious that truer words are rarely spoken.  Nick reached out a hand and pulled Alex into a manly hug anyway, though.

"You look good, man," he acknowledged lightly.  "The lady looks better, though."

"Wait 'til you see your date for the evening," AJ returned with a chuckle.  He turned to me and beckoned me forward.  For once, I obeyed without complaint.  "Diana," he began, gesturing in pretend disinterest towards the beautiful blonde beside him, "this mess is Nick Carter."  That said, he returned his attention to Nick and smirked delightedly.  "Nick, this is Diana...you know, the girl that impressed you with her wit and wisdom."

Nick's cheeks colored ever so slightly at what I could only imagine to be a direct quotation, but the gentle crimson only served to emphasize the blue of his eyes.  Still, he reached for my hand, and I ducked my chin shyly at his attention.

For those playing the home game, I don't do anything shyly. Ever.

"Pleased to meet you...finally," he greeted, raising my hand to his mouth.  His lips brushed my knuckles, and I swear my knees went weak.

"Likewise," I allowed quietly, unable to look away from him.  He was dressed impeccably, from the tailored black slacks to the long jacket, and his loose tie and spiked hair gave him a playfully sexy look that I would've been a fool not to appreciate.

He was fucking gorgeous, and I hated every fiber of my being for my inability to look past his beauty.

His eyes drank me in from top to bottom and back again, and the feminist in me would've been enraged had I not been so busy staring at the shy dimple in his left cheek.

"You look amazing," he told me quietly, ducking his head sincerely.  "Like...wow."

I blushed.  Furiously.  Like a fucking teenybopper would have.

"So, Taylor, do you think he likes her?" AJ whispered loudly.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Taylor elbow him in the ribs.

"Shut up, Alex."

"Clearance to enter the car," came crackling out of one of the walkie-talkies in the vicinity, and suddenly we were moving towards the exit, the awkward first-sigh movie moment having ended all too abruptly for my liking.

The fact that I liked it worried me a lot.

"So tell me," Nick began, his hand on the small of my back and his cologne wafting dangerously towards me, "are you always this quiet in person?"

All at once, my muscles seemed to relax with relief. Underneath the fucking sexy exterior, this was indeed the same guy that had captured my intellectual attention.

I needed BADLY to remember that before my imagination started undressing him again.

"No," I admitted quietly.  "I feel like I should be, though.  All of this code talk and bodyguard business has me feeling like I'm stuck in a James Bond movie."

"Nah," Nick laughed, his boyish giggle echoing in the empty basement.  "James Bond doesn't have bodyguards...and he's got much cooler cars than this limo we're about to board."

"I come from New York," I told him seriously.  "I'm impressed by any car that doesn't run on underground train tracks."

"Maybe so," he acknowledged with a smile, "but you've got enough of a brain that I'm gonna need more than a car to impress you."

I felt the corners of my lips curling in a coquettish smirk.  "Is that what the designer suit is for?"

"Maybe," Nick chuckled lowly.  "Why?  Is it working?"

I glanced over my shoulder to wink at him.  "Maybe."

We slid into the limousine behind AJ and Taylor, and I mentally berated myself for the teasing way in which I rubbed the back of Nick's knuckles with my thumb.

I was flirting.  I hadn't spent more than five minutes with this man, and I was already fucking flirting with him.  Feminism be damned.  Hell, I had reduced myself to a superficial tease in six measly sentences!  Where was the intelligent girl who had conducted serious, intriguing conversations with him only two days prior? Where was the independent chemical neuroscience major who cared more about her mind than her ability to ensnare a man of mystery?

Where the hell had my brain gone?  And, furthermore, why the hell did he smell so good?