How about a sexy first meeting from the first stand-alone story I ever wrote?
Seven paragraphs from "Cake Under the Mistletoe," collected in Riding the Nightmare
The slim, dark bearded man that stepped out of the tunnel was not quite what I had expected. He was wearing the Cthulhu in a Santa Hat sweatshirt that he had told me he’d be wearing. I walked up to him and steered him out of the general traffic before hugging him.
“Welcome to the Great White North, Furball.”
“Hello yourself, BB.” He winked and wrapped an arm around my waist. “I didn’t check anything, so we can just go.”
“Great.” I could feel the sexual tension building already. He smelled good. Clean, but without heavy aftershave or cologne. Mostly it was just the smell of him. I caught his nose twitching too. “Pup, you thinking what I’m thinking?”
A slow sexy smile crossed his face. “I bet I am. But I think we should go home. Homeland Security really frowns on people sitting in their cars even if they’re making out.”
“Just making sure we’re not going to end up in that scene from Random Hearts.”
“Hate to break it to you, but you’re not exactly Harrison Ford.” He patted me where I was getting thick in the middle from too much time in my drafting chair and too little at the gym.