up with a longneck bottle of beer. But he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but Amber and that older man who was doing all the talking.
What in the hell was he saying?
She actually looked as though she’d rather be somewhere else.
Did she want to escape? Jensen was feeling rather chivalrous.
His mother was saying something, although he’d be damned if he knew what it was. He’d completely lost track of the conversation at his table and decided to put an end to his curiosity.
So he picked up his bottle of beer, stood and said the only two words he’d wanted to say since laying eyes on Amber just minutes ago. “Excuse me.”
* * *
Amber wasn’t sure how long Jensen had been in the restaurant before she spotted him, but he hadn’t kept his eyes off her for a moment.
About the time she was trying to snatch her hand out of Byerly’s and tell him she was no cancan dancer and that she didn’t care if the company was prepared to hire a dance instructor to help her prepare for the stupid audition, a cool British voice said, “Miss Rogers. What a surprise.”
A flood of warmth rushed through her. She wished she could say it was the effects of Jose Cuervo making its way through her system, but she was afraid it was none other than Jensen Fortune Chesterfield who’d done the trick.
Either way, she welcomed the distraction and used it as her excuse to break away.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, tearing her hand from the casting director’s grip. “Mr. Byerly was just proposing a project he wanted me to consider, but I really need to get back to my table.”
Just a few minutes ago, she’d called the ranch foreman and had asked someone to come and give Danny Boy a ride home. She hadn’t planned on having a drink tonight—but then again, she hadn’t expected to feel the need for one.
“You have my card,” Byerly said. “Please call me.”
“I told you I’d think about it. And I can’t do that if you won’t give me the time I need. So do us both a favor and let me be the one to make contact, okay?”
Once she’d left Byerly’s table, she thanked Jensen for the interruption. “That guy doesn’t take ‘we’ll see’ for an answer.”
“Then I’m glad I could help.”
“I’m...uh, here with Gram—and Elmer Murdock, apparently. It seems my grandmother is full of surprises.”
“Actually, I’m here with Orlando Mendoza and my mother. We just came in from the airfield, where we dropped off my sister and brother, who are heading back to London. When I saw you, I thought I’d come over and say hello.”
Amber glanced at Gram, who’d lifted her hand and was waving her fingers at Jensen.
He’d no more than walked over to their table and greeted them when Elmer pointed toward the stairs, a gleam in his eyes. “Oh, Helen, look. Here come the Baumgartners. Let’s go schmooze it up with them and find out what song they’re planning for the dance contest. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, I always say.”
With that, Elmer pulled back Gram’s chair and helped her to feet that had never danced even a two-step, at least as far as Amber knew.
But before he could sweep Helen away, Amber placed her hand on her grandmother’s arm and asked, “Since when are you and Estelle Baumgartner enemies?”
“Elmer is just teasing, honey. He says they’re our stiffest competition. Besides, I think he’s just trying to give you and your young man some time alone.”
“Try the twofer happy hour special, son. They make a mean margarita here, and you can’t beat the price.” Elmer winked at Jensen as he ushered Helen away, his gnarled hand a little too low on Gram’s back.
Jensen was most certainly not her young man. And while she appreciated Elmer giving them some privacy, she didn’t like him putting fanciful notions in her grandmother’s head. It was bad enough the tabloids were spreading that rumor all over the county—and the world, for that matter.
“I hear they’re having quite the bang-up price on them until seven o’clock.” Jensen, still standing, nodded toward her margarita glass. “Can I get you another one of those frozen drinks?”
“Oh, goodness no. Thank you. I didn’t even want this one.”
He raised his eyebrow at her almost empty cup, as if questioning why she would’ve drunk the thing down in three gulps if she hadn’t wanted it in the first place. And with the way he was looking down at her, she was reminded of the first time they met. Although this time, it was her neck hurting, not her pride.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to sit down?” she asked.
“Maybe for a moment.” He took the seat next to hers.
“So how did the airport run go?”
“Without a snag. My brother and sister are on their way back across the pond as we speak.”
“So you’re staying on here a little longer?” She wanted him to think she was just making casual small talk and that his decision to stay in town wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference to her. It wouldn’t, of course. But thoughts of that second kiss he’d given her after dropping her off near the VFW the other night made her insides turn to gelatin and her mouth go dry.
How did one explain the chemistry in a reaction like that?
Her hand shook as she reached for her empty glass. Well, duh. Now what? The only thing in front of her was the shot of tequila Elmer had ordered—the drink she hadn’t planned on drinking.
Trying to play it cool, she downed that, then winced.
“Here.” Jensen handed her his cold longneck bottle of beer.
She took a swig, then winced even more. “What is this?” She turned the label around and saw the harp logo on the front.
“It’s Guinness. My cousin Wendy stocks up on it for us, since we’re not used to the American ales. They’re too watered-down.”
Too watered-down? Was he crazy? Give her a cold light American beer any day over this thick drudge. But she bit her tongue as she handed his bottle back to him.
He signaled a waitress and asked her to bring another margarita and some water.
“Have my mother and Mr. Mendoza ordered yet?”
“No, sir. My lord. Um, I mean...” The young waitress stammered, most likely at a complete loss.
“Please, just call me Jensen. Will you let them know that I’ll join them in a few moments?”
“Of course, Sir Jensen.” The blushing woman hurried back to the bar.
As Amber watched her go, she wondered when the town would finally get used to this British invasion. The Beatles
