herself he wouldn’t be here anyway, so it wasn’t worth getting so hyped up about.
Then she spotted Troy waiting for her in a corner booth. Any thought of turning chicken, slipping out the door and running to her room like a scared little virgin evaporated. Not just because he’d seen her. No, it was because of that look in his eyes as he stood and walked toward her. Not a Troy look. Not a confident, I-never-doubted-for-a-minute-you’d-show-up look.
No, this look was relieved. Appreciative. Anticipatory. “I was afraid you were going to stand me up,” he said, his voice husky and intense as he reached her side.
“I almost did.” Oh, gee, nothing like a little honesty to start an evening off right.
“What changed your mind?”
Brushing a stray wisp of hair off her face, she struggled to seem nonchalant. “I was thirsty.”
“I’m glad you were thirsty,” he said with a teasing smile. “I was afraid you might have cold feet.”
“My feet could sink the Titanic,” she admitted ruefully.
He chuckled as he led her back to the intimate back-corner table, which was even more hidden by a few hanging plants and an indoor garden area, complete with softly gurgling fountain.
Candlelight. Flowery plants. Shadowy secluded corner. Chloe Weston, turn those wobbly three-inch heels of yours toward the door right now.
“Back off, Sister,” she whispered under her breath.
He obviously noticed her sudden anxiety. “Is this all right? I asked for a quiet table so we could talk.”
She gulped. “Uh, sure. Fine.”
After pulling out her chair for her, he sat down opposite her. “Please, relax. I haven’t got the wrong idea. I know you’re here on business, you didn’t come here for this. You never planned to meet with a man you don’t really know in a hotel bar.”
“A dark, candlelit hotel bar with low, sultry, danceable music,” she muttered. His eyes widened and she shook her head. “No. This is so not me. I’m usually so boring. No adventures in hotel bars in my recent history. I’m an open book. A boring, what-you-see-is-what-you-get book.”
Sitting across from her, he reached out and caught one of her hands, which she’d just lifted to again nervously brush back her hair. “I doubt that. I saw you by the pool, remember? I think there are some deeply hidden facets of you I’d very much like to explore,” he said, his voice a seductive whisper.
Okay, that’s it. You’re in trouble now, missy.
As if he hadn’t noticed her heart beating so wildly she thought the veins on her temples were about to explode, he continued. “Let’s forget about who we ‘usually’ are for a while.”
Chloe stared at him, trying to gauge his meaning. Obviously Troy knew something about hiding his real identity—he did such a good job of it even she hadn’t caught a glimpse of the real tire-changing man beneath the business suits in the past few weeks. He’d obviously become adept at living a double life, slipping off his at-home persona as easily as he slipped off his sexy little gold stud earring.
Why shouldn’t she give it a try?
He must have seen the indecision in her eyes. “Forget all the standard reasons we shouldn’t be here together. You don’t do this, I don’t do this, we don’t know each other. Just let it go. Tonight we’re two people sharing an interesting evening together, getting to know each other. That’s all.”
“That’s really all?”
“Yes.” His voice lowered, his stare grew more intense. “Unless we both decide we want it to be more.”
Heck, she wanted it to be more already. Get out now, Chloe.
He glanced toward the table, at her hand, which still held tightly to her purse. Chloe knew he realized she was poised to flee at a moment’s notice. “So will you stay?”
Taking a deep breath, Chloe consigned the picture of Sister Mary Frances to the depths of her subconscious, briefly closed her eyes and nodded. “I’ll stay.”
“I’m glad.” He reached over and gently tugged the purse free of her fingers, pushing it to the side of the table, still within reach, but not clutched like a lethal weapon.
He held a hand up, waving to a waitress. “How about a rum punch? It seems appropriately tropical. Okay?”
“Yes, but only one or I’ll be dancing on the table.”
“There’s a sight I’d like to see,” he said. “Particularly considering the length of your skirt.” Chloe flushed as he laughed softly. “Don’t worry. I didn’t get the wrong impression. You look perfect. Sexy as hell—but still tasteful. Just right to show you’re a desirable woman, without flaunting it.”
“Well, I guess you know women’s clothes,” she murmured, feeling both embarrassed and at the same time very glad she’d worn the tight black miniskirt and sheer black hose.
“Now, should we introduce ourselves?”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re strangers. Isn’t it time for introductions?”
“Strangers in a bar?” she asked, catching on. This, obviously, was another way to separate themselves from reality—from the fact that they worked together in their everyday lives. That he was her boss, the managing director and part-owner of Langtree’s Department Store, and she a window dresser. They would be strangers. No outside ties. No encumbrances. No expectations. Maybe even no repercussions. “I think I like this idea.”
“My name’s Trent,” he said, as the waitress arrived with their oversize glasses. The woman leaned close to him as she placed their drinks on the table, her stare blatantly admiring. Chloe felt another shiver course through her. She was playing sexual games with this devastatingly attractive man—a man every other woman in the room had eyed at least once since Chloe had sat down with him. The anxiety Chloe had felt early in the evening began to slide away, replaced by something else. Excitement. Titillation. Why the heck not?
“Trent. How nice to meet you. My name’s…Claudia.”
He waited until the waitress walked away again before picking up his drink and raising it in a toast. Chloe lifted her glass as well and waited, expectantly.
“To stormy skies.”
She nodded. “And strangers getting to know one another.”
The first sip of rum punch was enough to convince Chloe she absolutely could not drink more than one. The thing tasted like straight rum, with a little cherry juice thrown in to give the alcohol a pink tinge. “Whew,” she gasped once the burning sensation in her throat had stopped.
“Good?”
“Very. Just potent.” She sipped again, noting the fiery sensation was no less strong the second time. But she was getting used to it. “So, uh, Trent, tell me about yourself.”
He shrugged.
