wife, the feted Irish actress Finola, was also missing.
God, Kat could make a fortune selling celebrity gossip to tabloid newspapers. They’d made her offers before, promised her anonymity, and she’d desperately needed the money.
Kat sighed. Selling gossip would be an easy solution to her financial woes. Damn her integrity and self-respect.
Kat smiled as Fred walked passed Elana’s table, his gaze sliding sideways. The waitstaff was expected to turn a blind eye, to not notice a damn thing, but Fred was young and a little starstruck. And, really, since Elana Marshall looked like the millions of bucks she was reputed to be worth in that barely there dress highlighting her cleavage, how could Fred not notice that impressive rack, that fabulous face and those pouty lips?
Hadn’t Kat, when she’d first started as a waitress years ago, been equally impressed by the star power that lit up the room? She’d stuttered when she’d first spoken to Angel Morales, the hottest and most talented celebrity around. She’d blushed when the younger Windsor brother had thanked her, very nicely, for a wonderful dining experience. She’d nearly fainted when a table of Oscar nominees had left her a two-thousand-dollar tip.
After serving so many wealthy and famous people, she was no longer easily impressed, and that was why she’d been promoted to the position of hostess a year or so ago. Harrison Marshall had personally promoted her, his decision based, he’d told her, on her popularity with his well-heeled clients. She was polite and personable, but she didn’t fawn or simper. His clients, Harrison had said, liked that. They, apparently, liked her.
Kat looked down at her book and then at her watch. The Henleys were late, but then, they always were. Jonas Halstead and guest would be arriving within five minutes, and he was always on time.
Kat idly wondered who Jonas would be with tonight. By her calculations, the blond pop sensation he’d been dating for the past three months had reached her sell-by date, and there would be another girl on his arm tonight. Jonas, the billionaire property developer specializing in hotels and casinos, was a repeat visitor to El Acantilado over the past year. He’d recently bought Cliff House and was renovating the iconic Santa Barbara hotel. Rumor had it that he’d out-negotiated Harrison Marshall for the property, which suggested that Halstead was a hell of a businessman...or a shark.
Kat sighed. Tough businessman or not, his was the world she wanted to be in. The one she’d been destined for. The one that still beckoned to her. But, at twenty-eight years old, she was still working here and the closest she’d come to the world of finance was to show billionaire businessmen like Jonas Halstead to his table.
God. How sad.
“Katrina.”
Kat’s head snapped up and she silently cursed when she realized Jonas was standing in front of her, impeccably dressed in a black designer suit worn over a rain-gray, open-necked shirt. Her eyes traveled up, across a broad chest and wide shoulders, along a tanned neck, to a strong jaw covered with two-day-old stubble and a mouth that was slow to smile but still sexy. He had a long, straight nose and deep green eyes under strong brows. Rich, successful and hot.
He had the reputation for being a bit of a bastard, in business and in bed. That fact only dropped his sexy factor by a quarter of a percent.
“Mr. Halstead, welcome back to El Acantilado,” Kat murmured, ignoring her jumping heart and squirrelly stomach. Yeah, he was built and so damn handsome, but geez, she wasn’t a twenty-two-year-old waitress anymore.
“Call me Jonas.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d made the offer, but Kat had no intention of accepting. It wasn’t professional to call him by his first name, and not doing so kept a very healthy distance between her and the Jonas Halsteads of the world. Like her ex-husband and like her father, rich guys in fancy suits were not to be trusted.
Then again, what man could be?
But it really annoyed Kat that Jonas did funny things to her stomach and made her heart jump.
Fast, furious sexual attraction had led to her falling in love with and marrying Wes, and since he’d ended up using her heart as a Ping-Pong ball, she didn’t trust her pheromones’ ability to pick men wisely.
But every time she saw Jonas, her libido loudly reminded her that she hadn’t had sex in a very long time. Jonas Halstead would be damn good at sex. He’d had, it was said, a lot of practice.
But tonight he was here alone. “Is your guest not joining you tonight?”
Jonas placed his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “Rowan will be joining me shortly.”
Kat widened her eyes in surprise. He was dating Rowan Greenly? The actress had just separated from her very volatile husband after a domestic abuse charge, and the hot-tempered rock star had threatened to kill anyone who made a move on his wife.
“You’re brave. I suggest you wear a bulletproof vest,” Kat couldn’t help murmuring, even though she knew she was being indiscreet. “Rock likes his guns.”
Jonas frowned, confused. Then his austere face softened as he released a low chuckle.
A thousand sparks danced on her skin as his smile turned his face from remote-but-still-hot to oh-my-God-I-want-to-rip-his-clothes-off. Kat placed her fist under her sternum and resisted the urge to scrunch her eyes shut.
No. God, no. She couldn’t have the screaming hots for Jonas Halstead. She’d married, and divorced, a ruthless and merciless man. A competitive and cutthroat billionaire should be the last person to interest her. She was avoiding the male species in general, and the hot and sexy ones in particular.
Jonas was not her type.
The front door to the restaurant pulled open and all six feet and five inches of the best basketball talent in the country stepped into the restaurant. Rowan Brady. God, of course it was.
Kat glanced at Jonas, who lifted one dark eyebrow. “My date.”
Rowan joined them, clasping Jonas’s shoulder as he did. “Joe, we’ve known each other since we were kids and I keep telling you you’re not my type.”
Kat heard the teasing note in Rowan’s deep voice and blushed as his dark eyes settled on her face. “And I’m curious as to why you’d want this gorgeous creature to think that I am.”
Jonas slid Rowan a droll look. “Katrina thought I was meeting Rowan Greenly.”
Rowan shuddered. “You have more sense than that. She’s hot but her husband is psycho.”
Jonas pulled his hands from his pockets and placed his forearms on her counter, the fabric of his suit bunching around impressive biceps. Kat lifted an eyebrow of her own, annoyed that she could easily imagine pushing that jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, ripping that shirt apart to find out whether his skin was as hot as she imagined.
She swallowed a moan. It was time to do her job. “Let me take you to your table, Mr. Halstead.”
“Since you felt comfortable enough to make assumptions about my love life, you should be comfortable enough to call me Jonas. Or Joe.”
Kat walked around the podium and gestured to the already full dining room. She deliberately ignored his provoking statement
