It was none of his damn business.
“Lighten up, sugar,” Pete said, kissing the woman on the temple.
“Stop it,” she said, nearly shrieking.
Ah, hell, John thought. He should have stayed at the motel. He didn’t need this hassle. But…ah, hell.
John slid out of the booth and pushed his way through the crowd in his path. He stopped in front of Pete and the woman.
“Pete,” he said, his voice very low and very menacing, “you have three seconds to take your arm off my woman. Are you hearing me, cowboy?”
“She’s not your…” Pete started, then met John’s gaze. The color drained from Pete’s face as he saw the ice in John’s blue eyes and the tight set to his jaw. “You bet.” The cowboy dropped his arm from the woman’s shoulders and took a step backward. “Hey, man, my mistake.”
“You’ve got that straight,” John said, then looked at the woman. “You’re late. Car acting up again?”
“Car,” she said, nodding. “Acting up. Again.”
“Right,” John said. “Come on, let’s go, before someone takes the booth I have for us.”
“Oh, I don’t think—”
“No joke,” John said gruffly. “That’s very obvious.”
He placed one large hand in the middle of her back and propelled her forward until they reached the booth. He shoved his jacket into the corner and glowered at her.
“Sit,” he said.
Laura sank onto the leather bench and scooted into the middle, acutely aware that her legs were trembling so badly, they had been about to give way beneath her. She drew a shuddering breath, then looked directly at the man who was now sitting opposite her.
He pushed his Stetson up with one thumb and met her gaze.
Blue ice, Laura thought. His eyes were cold, like chips of blue ice. He wasn’t handsome in a smooth, conventional manner; his features were far too rugged, with high cheekbones, a strong, square jaw and a straight blade of a nose.
His hair was dark brown, thick and shaggy, falling to his collar and badly in need of a trim. Broad shoulders strained against the material of his shirt, and his hands now wrapped around the bottle of beer were large and powerful appearing.
He was, without a doubt, the most earthy, rough-hewn—the most masculine—man she’d ever encountered. There was an aura of danger emanating from him, a sense of tension, of leashed strength that might explode at any moment.
Dear heaven, she thought, she could hardly breathe, and the wild tempo of her racing heart was echoing in her ears. Those eyes. Those incredible eyes of his were pinning her in place, making it impossible to move, to tear her gaze from his.
“I’m not going to gobble you up for dinner,” he said, frowning. “You still look scared to death. I’m not the bad guy here, you know. I rescued you from Pete the Pest, remember?”
Laura folded her hands on the top of the table and managed to shift her eyes to her entwined fingers.
“Yes, I know,” she said quietly, “and I want to thank you for what you did. I wasn’t handling the situation with that man well at all.” She sighed. “I never should have come here alone.”
“Why did you?”
“I…I just couldn’t face another long evening alone.” She shook her head. “Listen to me. I don’t go around baring my soul to perfect strangers.” She met his gaze again. “I’m acting completely out of character tonight.”
“Well, if it will make you feel any better, I’m not perfect, nor am I a stranger. I’m the knight who rode in on my white horse and saved you, the damsel in distress.
“And as far as baring your soul? I’m in this crummy place because I couldn’t handle the four walls that were closing in on me. I needed to escape from my own thoughts. And I can’t quite believe I’m telling you all this.”
Laura smiled. “I guess we’re both behaving out of character. I suppose the least we should do is introduce ourselves.”
“No, wait,” he said, raising one hand. “Since we’re behaving so far from the norm, let’s stick with first names only. That will make this whole thing not quite…well, real. I’m John.”
“Hello, John. I’m Laura.”
“Pretty name,” he said, smiling slightly, “for a pretty lady.”
Laura cocked her head to one side and studied John intently.
“You don’t smile often, do you?” she said. “Your smiles just don’t materialize naturally.”
John lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve never thought about it,” He paused. “No, I guess I don’t have a hell of a lot to smile about.”
The waitress appeared suddenly at the booth, startling both Laura and John.
“I see you took my advice, cowboy,” she said, then looked at Laura. “Drink?”
“Just a cola, please,” Laura said.
“You bet. Well, good-lookin’,” she said to John, “you’ve got yourself a pretty woman, you’re doin’ some drinkin’, so get out on the floor and do the dancin’ part. You’ll forget your troubles in no time at all. Be right back with the cola.”
John shook his head as the waitress hurried away.
“She probably actually believes that problems are that easily solved,” he said.
“Do you have problems?” Laura said.
“Doesn’t everyone?” John said, raising one eyebrow.
The waitress returned and slid a glass in front of Laura, then she disappeared again. Laura took a sip from the straw poking through the ice.
“Well,” she said slowly, “I suppose problems are subjective. One person could be upset because they couldn’t find exactly the right shoes to match a new party dress. While another person could be in turmoil due to a serious illness they’re suffering from. But each would say they had a problem.”
“Ah,” John said, “the lady is a heavy thinker, but what you’re saying makes sense.” He paused. “Since we’ve agreed that tonight is a step away from reality, why don’t you pretend you’ve known me for a long time and tell me your problems?”
As Laura looked at John, a strange warmth suffused her, a sense of peacefulness that was interwoven with a tingling excitement at being in close proximity to such a blatantly masculine man.
Yes, she thought, she could talk to John and he would listen, really hear, what she had to say. But she had a feeling that her woes fell into the category of the new shoes to match the party dress.
John appeared deeply troubled.
