Solo and the City || Season One: Lights, Camera, Action

Chapter One

New York City, January 1998

Robin Ballard stood by the bar, a fresh gin and tonic in her hand. She was smiling vaguely as the man beside her told a joke. She'd been prepared to throw her head back in false laughter just to be polite, so she was pleasantly surprised when the punchline was actually funny and she genuinely laughed instead.

The loud sound echoed joyously through the party, and Napoleon Solo's head snapped up as he heard it, so fast that he almost spilled his dirty martini down the front of his bespoke three-piece suit. He swiveled his head, trying to locate the person it belonged to.

When his eyes landed on Robin, they widened in surprise. He recognized her from the poster that had been by the door when he'd arrived. This was her party.

She was even more beautiful in person. In her picture, she'd looked nervous, like she wasn't comfortable having her photo taken. He could tell that she was still a little tense as she leaned against the bar, but overall, she was much more natural.

He stayed where he was for a moment and just stared at her, wanting to take in every detail that he could before he approached her. It was more than likely that she knew who he was, and if she was like every other woman he'd talked to recently, she'd change instantly when he introduced himself.

He fervently hoped she wouldn't be like that. There was something about her that was irresistible, drawing him in immediately, like the proverbial moth to a flame. But he was also aware of the dangers of building someone up in his head too much. It so often led to greater disappointment.

Her dark brown hair was thick and shiny and piled on top of her head in a loose bun. Several tendrils had either been left loose on purpose or escaped to frame her sweet, round face. She had big dark hazel eyes, a nose with an adorable swoop at the end of it, and full pink lips.

She was short, almost a foot shorter than him, he was guessing. And she had curves everywhere, which the dress she was wearing drew maximum attention to. She had thick thighs, pear-shaped hips, and a soft, rounded stomach, all topped off by the most exquisite pair of breasts he'd ever seen. They were incredibly full and practically spilling out of her neckline.

He knew a lot of people here would have called her overweight, but he thought she was perfect.

He remembered that she'd just moved to the city. It would have been obvious even if he hadn't already known. Most women in New York, especially ones who moved in this social circle, prided themselves on being fashionable and would never be caught in public looking anything less than what they considered perfect.

She was exhibiting several less than perfect traits at the moment that he found very refreshing. Her hair was neat, but not styled. The only make-up she was wearing was lip gloss, and she was devoid of jewelry. Her clothes weren't by any recognizable designer, and her shoes were flats. Perhaps most telling of all were her glasses, which had thick black frames.

He glanced at his watch and grimaced. He had to leave soon, so if he wanted to talk to her, it was now or never. He had no idea when he'd see her again otherwise.

Besides, it was better to figure out it could go nowhere sooner rather than later.

He downed half of his martini and slipped through the crowd toward her. He hoped he looked decent. He didn't have time to find the men's room and check.

He settled into the open spot beside her at the bar and gave her his most dazzling smile. She smiled back at him and he saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes. It took everything he had not to let his smile die immediately as he waited for her to start fawning over him.