“Neither. It’s a gin martini, so it has vermouth.”

“But you think you can smell that he used the wrong gin, without even tasting it?” The guy’s voice made it clear he didn’t think I could.

“I have a very good sense of smell.”

The man looked over my shoulder. “Hey, Hudson, I got a hundred bucks that says she can’t tell the difference between the two gins if we line them up.”

A second man’s voice came from my right, this one behind my shoulder a bit. The sound was deep, yet velvety and smooth—sort of like the gin the bartender should’ve used to make my drink.

“Make it two hundred, and you’re on.”

Turning to get a look at the man willing to wager on my abilities, I felt my eyes widen.

Oh. Wow. The gorgeous guy from the bridal party. I’d stared at him during most of the wedding. He was handsome from afar, but up close he was breathtaking in a way that made my belly flutter—dark hair, tanned skin, a chiseled jawline, and luscious, full lips. The way his hair was styled—slicked back and parted to the side—reminded me of an old-time movie star. What I hadn’t been able to see from the back row during the ceremony was the intensity of his ocean blue eyes. Those were currently scanning my face like I was a book.

I cleared my throat. “You’re going to bet two-hundred dollars that I can identify gin?”

The gorgeous man stepped forward, and my olfactory sense perked up. Now that smells better than any gin. I wasn’t sure if it was his cologne or some sort of a body wash, but whatever it was, it took everything in my power to not lean toward him and take a deep whiff. The sinfully sexy man smelled as good as he looked. That pairing was my kryptonite.

There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Are you telling me it’s a bad bet?”

I shook my head and turned back to speak to his friend. “I’ll play along with your little bet, but I’m in for two hundred, too.”

When my eyes returned to the handsome man on my right, the corner of his lip twitched just slightly. “Nice.” He lifted his chin to his friend. “Tell the bartender to pour a shot of Beefeater and a shot of Hendricks. Line ’em up in front of her, and don’t let us know which is which.”

A minute later, I lifted the first shot glass and sniffed. It honestly wasn’t even necessary for me to smell the other, though I did it anyway, just to be safe. Damn… I should’ve bet more. This was too easy, like taking candy from a baby. I slid one shot glass forward and spoke to the waiting bartender. “This one is the Hendricks.”

The bartender looked impressed. “She’s right.”

“Damn it,” the guy who had started this game huffed. He dug into his front pocket, pulled out an impressive billfold, and peeled off four hundred-dollar bills. Tossing them in our direction on top of the bar, he shook his head. “I’ll win it back by Monday.”

Gorgeous Guy smiled at me as he collected his cash. Once I took mine, he lowered his head to whisper in my ear.

“Nice job.”

Oh my. His hot breath sent a shiver down my spine. It had been way too long since I’d had contact with a man. Sadly, my knees felt a little weak. But I forced myself to ignore it. “Thank you.”

He reached around me to the bar and lifted one of the shots. Bringing it to his nose, he sniffed before setting it back down and smelling the other.

“I don’t smell anything different.”

“That just means you have a normal sense of smell.”

“Ah, I see. And yours is…extraordinary?”

I smiled. “Why yes, it is.”

He looked amused as he passed me one of the shots and held the other up in toast. “To being extraordinary,” he said.

I wasn’t generally a shot drinker, but what the hell? I clinked my glass with his before knocking it back. Maybe the alcohol would help settle the nerves this man seemed to have jolted awake.

I set my empty shot glass on the bar next to his. “I take it this is something the two of you do on a regular basis, since your friend plans to win it back by Monday?”

“Jack’s family and mine have been friends since we were kids. But the betting started when we went to the same college. I’m a Notre Dame fan, and he’s a USC fan. We were broke back then, so we used to bet a Taser zap on games.”

“A Taser zap?”

“His father was a cop. He gave him a Taser to keep under his car seat just in case. But I don’t think he envisioned his son taking hits of fifty-thousand volts when a last-minute interception made his team lose.”

I shook my head. “That’s a little crazy.”

“Definitely not our wisest decision. At least I won a lot more than he did. A little brain damage might help explain some of his choices in college.”

I laughed. “So today was just a continuation of that pattern, then?”

“Pretty much.” He smiled and extended his hand. “I’m Hudson, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m St—” I caught myself in the nick of time. “I’m Evelyn.”

“So are you a gin aficionado, Evelyn? Is that why I didn’t smell anything different between the two?”

I smiled. “I wouldn’t consider myself an aficionado of gin, no. To be honest, I mostly drink wine. But did I mention my occupation? I’m a fragrance chemist—a perfumist.”

“You make perfume?”

I nodded. “Among other things. I developed scents for a cosmetics and fragrance company for six years. Sometimes it was a new perfume, other times it was the scent for a wipe that removes makeup, or maybe a cosmetic that needs a more pleasant smell.”

“Pretty sure I never met a perfumist before.”

I smiled. “Is it as exciting as you’d hoped?”

He chuckled. “What exactly is the training for a job like that?”

“Well, I have a chemistry degree. But you can have all the education you want, and you still won’t be able to do the job unless you also have hyperosmia.”

“And that is…”

“An enhanced ability to smell odors, an increased olfactory acuity.”

“So you’re good at smelling shit?”

I laughed. “Exactly.”

A lot of people think they have a good sense of smell, but they don’t really understand how heightened the sense is for someone with hyperosmia. Demonstrating always worked best. Plus, I really wanted to know what cologne he was wearing. So, I leaned in and took a deep inhale of Hudson.

Exhaling, I said, “Dove soap.”

He didn’t look completely sold. “Yes, but that’s a pretty common soap choice.”

I smiled. “You didn’t let me finish. Dove Cool Moisture. It’s got cucumber and green tea in it—also a common ingredient in gins, by the way. And you use L’Oreal Elvive shampoo, same as me. I can smell gardenia tahitensis flower extract, rosa canina flower extract, and a slight hint of coconut oil. Oh, and you use Irish Spring deodorant. I don’t think you’re wearing any cologne, actually.”

Hudson’s brows rose. “Now that’s impressive. The wedding party stayed in a hotel last night, and I forgot to pack my cologne.”

“Which one do you normally wear?”

“Ah… I can’t tell you that. What will we do on our second date for entertainment if we don’t play the sniff test?”

“Our second date? I didn’t realize we were going to have a first.”

Hudson smiled and held out his hand. “The night’s young, Evelyn. Dance with me?”

A knot in the pit of my stomach warned me it was a bad idea. Fisher and I were supposed to stick together and limit contact with other people to minimize our chances of getting caught. But glancing around, my date was nowhere in sight. Plus, this man was seriously magnetic. Somehow, before my brain even finished debating the pros and cons, I found myself putting my hand in his. He led me to the dance floor and wrapped one arm around my waist, leading with the other. Not surprisingly, he knew how to dance.

“So, Evelyn with the extraordinary sense of smell, I’ve never seen you before. Are you a guest or a plus one?” He looked around the room. “Is some guy giving me the evil eye behind my back right now? Am I going to need to get Jack’s Taser from the car to ward off a jealous boyfriend?”

I laughed. “I am here with someone, but he’s just a friend.”

“The poor guy…”

I smiled. Hudson’s flirting was over the top, yet I gobbled it up. “Fisher is more interested in the guy who was passing out champagne than me.”

Hudson held me a little closer. “I like your date much better than I did thirty seconds ago.”

Goose bumps prickled my arms as he lowered his head, and his nose briefly brushed against my neck.

“You smell incredible. Are you wearing one of the perfumes you make?”

“I am. But it’s not one that can be ordered. I like the idea of having a true signature scent that someone can remember me by.”

“I don’t think you need the perfume to be remembered.”

He led me around the dance floor with such grace, I wondered if he had taken professional lessons. Most men his age thought slow dancing meant rocking back and forth and grinding an erection against you.

“You’re a good dancer,” I said.