itched to fist his hands in that red-gold hair, to draw her close so he could breathe in that roses-and-sunshine scent of hers and then kiss that spot on her neck just below her ear. Dropping his gaze to her mouth, he watched her smile fade, heard her quick intake of breath, and he knew she felt that heat shimmering between them, too. The realization sent need shuddering through him. He moved a step closer, wanting to explore the shape and taste of that tempting mouth. Instead, he settled for smoothing the stray curl that had tangled on her scarf.
Laura stepped back. She made a show of checking her watch. “I didn’t realize how late it was. I guess the tour took longer than I thought it would. I’m afraid I tend to get caught up in the hotel’s history and go on and on. You should have stopped me.”
“Why? I enjoyed it.”
“Thank you. But I’m sure you have other things you want to do during your stay. As for the hotel, I think you’ve seen just about everything there is now except for the kitchens. Do you want to see them?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. I’d like a chance to compare the operation here with the one at our San Diego property.”
“Then follow me.”
As Josh followed Laura, he tried not to notice how her scent pulled at his senses, made him think of sultry southern nights and magnolia blossoms. He tried not to notice that her skin was the color of cream and looked as delicate as a rose petal. He tried not to notice that even with her lipstick worn away, her mouth was pink and lush and made for kissing.
She paused at the wide marble staircase that led to the mezzanine level. “Do you mind taking the stairs or would you prefer we take the elevator?”
“The stairs are fine,” Josh managed to say, despite the resulting discomfort caused by his musings. Placing his hand at the center of Laura’s back, he led her up the stairs where more polished marble floors, more glittering chandeliers and more urns of fresh flowers greeted them.
“Have you had a chance to visit the restaurant yet?” she asked as they crossed the spacious floor toward the restaurant.
“As a matter of fact, I haven’t. Nick and I met outside the hotel for lunch.”
“Well, you’ll have to have at least one meal in the Redwood before you leave. The chef here is excellent. And the restaurant’s won quite a number of awards for its food and service.” She stopped a few feet from the restaurant’s entrance, where from the looks of things business was brisk.
Noting her frown, he asked, “Something wrong?”
“No. Quite the contrary. It looks like a good night for the restaurant,” she said, indicating the activity inside the restaurant and the line of people waiting at the door. “But I’m afraid with things this busy, the chef will have my head if I go traipsing through his kitchen with you in tow now.”
“Since I’d hate to be responsible for you losing that pretty head of yours, what do you say we pass on the kitchen tour?”
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” she said, smiling.
It was impossible for him not to return that smile. He swept his gaze toward the restaurant. “Think there’s any chance I can still get a dinner reservation in there for tonight?”
“Well, seeing as how I happen to have an ‘in’ with the management, I think your chances are pretty good. Why don’t we go find out?”
“Ms. Harte, how are you this evening?” the maître d’ asked when they approached the restaurant’s entrance. With his silver hair and refined demeanor the man reminded Josh of an English butler.
“I’m fine, Douglas. Looks like it’s a busy night for you.”
“Yes, it is,” he said, a pleased expression on his face.
“Too busy to squeeze in another reservation?” Laura asked.
“For you? Of course not.” The older man’s eyes twinkled. He cut a glance at Josh and then back to Laura. “A table for two?”
“Yes,” Josh answered quickly. He stuck out his hand. “Josh Logan, Douglas. I really appreciate this. After hearing Laura rave about the food, I have to admit that I’m not only anxious to sample it, I’m starving.”
“It’s my pleasure, sir. And I assure you, you won’t be disappointed in the cuisine. If you’ll just give me a moment, I’ll see about a table for you.”
After Douglas excused himself, Josh turned his attention back to Laura. “Thanks for using your influence,” he told her.
“You’re welcome. And since you’re in good hands with Douglas, I’ll leave you to enjoy your dinner. It was a pleasure meeting you, Josh.”
Josh took the hand she offered, held it. “Do you have to rush off?” he asked. Besides the fact that he had yet to come clean about his reason for being there, he was also reluctant to have her leave.
“No. But I thought…I assumed you had plans for this evening.”
“Nope,” he assured her. “I asked for a table for two because I was hoping I could persuade you to stay and have dinner with me.”
“That’s very kind of you, but surely there’s someone else—Nick or another friend or a business associate—that you’d rather have dinner with.”
Josh shook his head. “Nick is going to be tied up all evening. That’s why we visited earlier today, and I don’t know anyone else in San Francisco. Besides, the least I can do is buy you dinner to thank you for answering all my questions and giving me a tour of the hotel.”
She reclaimed her hand. “It’s really not necessary. I love the Ambassador Grand, and I enjoyed showing her off to you.”
Although the detective reports and his conversations with Nick hadn’t given any indication that she was romantically involved with someone, it suddenly occurred to Josh that perhaps there was someone waiting for Laura. To his surprise, the notion that she might have a lover stirred something stormy inside him. Telling himself that his reaction was ridiculous, Josh pressed. “If you’re refusing my invitation because there’s someone waiting for you, you’re welcome to ask him to join us.”
“No. That’s not it,” she said. “I mean, there isn’t anyone waiting. That is, I’m not involved with anyone at the moment.”
Charmed by the sudden color tinging her cheeks, Josh told himself if he felt relieved by her answer it was because convincing her to accept Olivia’s offer would be easier without a man in the picture. “Do you already have plans for this evening?”
“No,” Laura answered, nerves dancing in those pale blue eyes. “It’s just that…”
“It’s just that Tuesday nights are when you wash your hair?”
Her lips twitched. “No.”
Pleased that his attempt at humor had eased those nerves of a moment ago, he tried again. “Then tonight’s when you swore to yourself that you’d clean the oven?”
“Hardly,” Laura told him, and laughed aloud. “Besides the fact that I don’t use the
