ate before reporting for duty. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there.”
“And don’t be late.”
“I won’t. I appreciate the work.” An understatement.
“There’s a very special couple with reservations tonight, and I want you to see that they have the best of everything.” The manager’s voice took on an intense edge.
“Of course. I’ll take good care of them.” Ruthie scrambled around for a piece of paper. She didn’t want to call an important guest by the wrong name. Finding a pen, she poised, ready.
“I’ve reserved table five, the cozy corner table with the perfect moonlit beach view, for Dr. Diego Vargas and Sharmaine Coleman.”
Ruthie’s insides took a nosedive. Not Dr. Vargas, the naked hunk in the penthouse! Swallowing hard, she jotted down the woman’s name then tossed the pen aside. Try as she might, she couldn’t forget the man. Though she wanted to request another server for that table, Ruthie knew better than to cross the resort manager.
Merry Montrose made her nervous, always sharp-tongued and on the alert as though looking for a reason to fire her. Losing this job was not an option, so Ruthie did everything possible to please the demanding old lady.
She had worked the Banyan Room numerous times and liked the atmosphere. Posh, quiet and expensive, the five-star facility only attracted the very wealthiest patrons. And the tips were incredible.
But the insulting Dr. Diego Vargas was the one person in the resort she did not want to see. Not yet. Not until she’d wiped away the vision of his smooth dark skin. And his perfect masculine chest. And his gorgeous face. And his—she slammed her eyes shut and tried not to think at all.
Tips or no tips, tonight was going to be a long night.
Ruthie spotted him the moment he walked in the door. If such a thing was possible Diego Vargas looked better in a suit than he did naked. And the woman at his side, Sharmaine Coleman, was exquisite in a short blue sleeveless dress cut down to there.
Fighting back the zip of interest in a man she didn’t even know, Ruthie waited until the couple had been seated before approaching the table. From the explicit instructions she’d received from Merry Montrose both before and after her arrival at the restaurant, Ruthie knew the manager had some sort of interest in Dr. Vargas and his date. Perhaps they were personal friends, although it wouldn’t be the first time the manager had requested special services for a particular couple. In fact, several of those couples had gone on to marry.
For some reason the thought of Diego Vargas marrying Sharmaine Coleman bothered her. But she knew her job and would perform it to perfection. She had to. Her paycheck was Naomi’s lifeline. For a woman with little education, service work was the best Ruthie could hope for.
Complaining guests could get her fired, and after her run-in with Dr. Vargas, that was a distinct possibility if she upset him again. Even though he’d insulted her with his insinuations, the customer at La Torchere was always right.
Nestled in a corner amidst a tropical minigarden of bougainvillea and ponytail palms, table five looked out toward the beach. Ruthie had seen to the place settings herself, so she knew the silver gleamed, the polished crystal reflected the candlelight, and the napkins were perfectly fanned. No couple could resist the romantic ambience. Ruthie had even made certain that a fresh orchid centered the white linen tablecloth. Now if only she could manage to serve them without Dr. Vargas recognizing her. Hopefully he hadn’t gotten as close a look at her as she had him.
Ruthie suppressed a nervous giggle. That much was a given. She’d definitely seen much more of him than he had of her.
Gathering her courage, Ruthie straightened her bow tie, smoothed tense palms over her red fitted vest and black pants, then moved unobtrusively through the softly lit room.
With a deep breath, she thought, Ready or not, here we go.
“Good evening, Dr. Vargas, Miss Coleman. Welcome to the Banyan Room. My name is Ruthie and I’ll be your server tonight.”
Diego turned his attention from the lovely blond woman to her. Ruthie tried to keep her expression professional and friendly, but the minute Diego’s eyes met hers, recognition flared.
“Well. Hello again.” The corner of his mouth twitched beneath coal-black eyes that studied her intently.
Darn. Darn. Darn. Why did he have to have such a good memory?
She inclined her head, hoping to move on without further acknowledgment but couldn’t stop the hot flush sweeping over her.
Sharmaine didn’t miss the reaction. “You two have met?”
“In my suite this afternoon,” Diego said, his expression a mix of suspicion and curiosity. “Delivering towels.”
“Oh. How…interesting.” With a single glance and those choice words, Sharmaine dismissed Ruthie as an inconsequential servant.
Ruthie didn’t know why that bothered her. She’d never considered any honest work as menial, but something in Sharmaine’s tone struck at her self-confidence. For the first time in her life, Ruthie felt second-class.
Add to that, Dr. Vargas’s insinuations that she’d gone into his room for reasons other than those stated, and Ruthie knew she should be insulted. But she took it all in stride. Serving spoiled, not-so-nice guests was part of the job.
She also recognized the subtle need for Sharmaine to put her down. The claws were sheathed but Ruthie suspected that the pretty blonde was conveying a proprietary interest in the doctor. Ruthie found that almost laughable. Even if she were in the market for romance, which she was not, a man like Diego Vargas was out of her league and she knew it.
To salvage her pride and follow her boss’s orders, Ruthie concentrated on her job.
“The manager of La Torchere, Merry Montrose, wishes to extend her personal welcome, and as a token of her good will, offers you a complimentary bottle of wine.”
She sounded as stiff and pinched as a starched corset. How awful to have to carry on a conversation with a man when visions of his slender, masculine body kept flashing in her head.
“Would you care to see the wine list, sir?”
Dr. Vargas hesitated a minute, looking as if he’d say more, then seemed to take pity on her. He ordered wine—Californian, she noted—and said nothing more, but as she hurried away to turn in their order, she felt his intense black gaze follow her.
Once inside the kitchen, she longed to bolt for the back door, head up to her rooms and hide under the bed. Since when had she allowed a snooty guest to get to her? Or worse when had she ever been so oddly affected by a man—a man who’d insulted her, no less? Sure, he was handsome. And yes, she’d love to know if he wore that leather necklace underneath his crisp blue shirt. But something more than sexy looks and an embarrassing moment drew her to Diego Vargas. And whatever it was would simply have to go away.
Diego couldn’t believe his eyes. All afternoon he’d wondered about his mystery woman in the pink Speedo. And now here she was again. This time, he’d discovered her name. Ruthie.
He’d been startled to look up and recognize the fresh-faced waitress as
