some of her salad and her main course; then he reached for his wine and said half seriously, “I have no intention of lettingyou ignore my question about your singing debut at the pub.”
After the silence between them, the sudden sound of his rich baritone voice had an electrifying effect on Kate’s senses, and her head jerked up. Trying to cover her reaction, she regarded him with what she hoped was an expression of amused hauteur. “I refuse to tell you that story until you’ve told
me
a story that makes
you
look ridiculous.”
Instead of agreeing or giving up, he leaned back in his chair, toying with the stem of his wineglass, and eyed her in prolonged, thoughtful silence.
Kate tried to return his gaze unflinchingly, and ended up laughing and surrendering. “I give up—what
on earth
are you thinking?”
“I’m trying to decide whether to resort to bribery or coercion.”
“Go for bribery,” Kate advised him outrageously, because the stake was merely a story and she was positive he was going to offer a silly enticement.
“In that case, I will bring a collar and leash with me tomorrow—”
She rolled her eyes in mock horror. “Either you’re a very sick man, or else you have absolutely no talent for accessorizing. Stick with neckties—”
“—And I’ll help you get your Max to a vet over on St. Maarten,” he continued, ignoring her gibe.
Understanding dawned and Kate’s laughter faded. She looked at him, filled with gratitude and the strangest feeling that they were destined to become the best of friends—that it was somehow preordained. He returned her gaze, his blue eyes smiling warmly into hers … no, not warmly, Kate realized. Intimately! Hastily, she tried to divert him with humor. “That’s a clever bribe. What were you going to say to coerce me?”
He quirked a thoughtful brow, a smile tugging at his lips. “‘You owe me’?” he suggested.
Kate felt like covering her face and ears to block out the sight and sound of him. Even relaxing in his chair, he exuded potent sexual vitality. When he laughed, he looked sexy. When he smiled, he looked dangerously inviting. And when he was silent and thoughtful, as he’d been just a moment before, he looked intriguing … and wonderful. He was so physically attractive, so witty and urbane, and so infuriatingly
likable
that she kept wanting to trust him and befriend him, even though he was probably the last man in the Caribbean who could be trusted or befriended in a hotel room, especially by someone like her. He was like a powerful, two-hundred-pound magnet, and she felt like a little paper clip, struggling against his pull but being tugged inexorably, inch by inch, across the table to him.
It was actually easier on her nervous system to distract and amuse him than it was to spend three silent seconds trying to resist him, she realized, and so she gave in and decided to tell the story.
He knew the instant she made the decision. “What did it?” he inquired with amused satisfaction. “The bribery or the coercion?”
“I’m completely impervious to bribery,” Kate replied smugly, and was about to add that she was also impervious to coercion, but before she could do that, he said, “Good. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at ten. Now, let’s have the story of your singing debut at the pub.”
With a sigh, Kate began the tale. “It was Saint Patrick’s Day, so by seven PM the place was packed and the singing and drinking were in high gear. I knew my father was on an errand, because he’d come upstairs earlier to get his wallet, so I snuck downstairs even though the rule was that if my father wasn’t on the premises, I was not allowed down there at
any
hour of the day. Our bartenderknew the rule, too, but the place was so crowded, and I was so little, that nobody noticed me. At first, I just hovered on the bottom step, singing quietly to the music; but I couldn’t see anything, so I moved a little farther into the room … and
After the silence between them, the sudden sound of his rich baritone voice had an electrifying effect on Kate’s senses, and her head jerked up. Trying to cover her reaction, she regarded him with what she hoped was an expression of amused hauteur. “I refuse to tell you that story until you’ve told
me
a story that makes
you
look ridiculous.”
Instead of agreeing or giving up, he leaned back in his chair, toying with the stem of his wineglass, and eyed her in prolonged, thoughtful silence.
Kate tried to return his gaze unflinchingly, and ended up laughing and surrendering. “I give up—what
on earth
are you thinking?”
“I’m trying to decide whether to resort to bribery or coercion.”
“Go for bribery,” Kate advised him outrageously, because the stake was merely a story and she was positive he was going to offer a silly enticement.
“In that case, I will bring a collar and leash with me tomorrow—”
She rolled her eyes in mock horror. “Either you’re a very sick man, or else you have absolutely no talent for accessorizing. Stick with neckties—”
“—And I’ll help you get your Max to a vet over on St. Maarten,” he continued, ignoring her gibe.
Understanding dawned and Kate’s laughter faded. She looked at him, filled with gratitude and the strangest feeling that they were destined to become the best of friends—that it was somehow preordained. He returned her gaze, his blue eyes smiling warmly into hers … no, not warmly, Kate realized. Intimately! Hastily, she tried to divert him with humor. “That’s a clever bribe. What were you going to say to coerce me?”
He quirked a thoughtful brow, a smile tugging at his lips. “‘You owe me’?” he suggested.
Kate felt like covering her face and ears to block out the sight and sound of him. Even relaxing in his chair, he exuded potent sexual vitality. When he laughed, he looked sexy. When he smiled, he looked dangerously inviting. And when he was silent and thoughtful, as he’d been just a moment before, he looked intriguing … and wonderful. He was so physically attractive, so witty and urbane, and so infuriatingly
likable
that she kept wanting to trust him and befriend him, even though he was probably the last man in the Caribbean who could be trusted or befriended in a hotel room, especially by someone like her. He was like a powerful, two-hundred-pound magnet, and she felt like a little paper clip, struggling against his pull but being tugged inexorably, inch by inch, across the table to him.
It was actually easier on her nervous system to distract and amuse him than it was to spend three silent seconds trying to resist him, she realized, and so she gave in and decided to tell the story.
He knew the instant she made the decision. “What did it?” he inquired with amused satisfaction. “The bribery or the coercion?”
“I’m completely impervious to bribery,” Kate replied smugly, and was about to add that she was also impervious to coercion, but before she could do that, he said, “Good. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at ten. Now, let’s have the story of your singing debut at the pub.”
With a sigh, Kate began the tale. “It was Saint Patrick’s Day, so by seven PM the place was packed and the singing and drinking were in high gear. I knew my father was on an errand, because he’d come upstairs earlier to get his wallet, so I snuck downstairs even though the rule was that if my father wasn’t on the premises, I was not allowed down there at
any
hour of the day. Our bartenderknew the rule, too, but the place was so crowded, and I was so little, that nobody noticed me. At first, I just hovered on the bottom step, singing quietly to the music; but I couldn’t see anything, so I moved a little farther into the room … and
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