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She didn’t bother changing clothes before heading down to the bar attached to the hotel. She wasn’t in the market to get picked up so she didn’t care if her makeup was smudged and her clothes wrinkled after a long day of traveling.
She honestly didn’t care about anything aside from settling her nerves.
Walking across the plush carpet, she let the dim light and soft sounds wash over her. If not for the calypso music and beach-chic decor, she might have been able to convince herself she was home in Chicago, which is where she’d much rather be, instead of on a Caribbean island.
Sliding into a booth in the far corner, she placed her order and then drilled her fingers into the table while she waited for it to be delivered. She should probably order food, too, but she didn’t. Maybe in a bit, when her stomach stopped churning.
Her waitress dropped a heavy margarita glass onto a tiny white napkin and then slipped away. Loralei brought the drink to her lips and sipped, closing her eyes in pleasure as the fruity taste of it exploded across her tongue. Pineapple, strawberries, possibly mango.
When she opened her eyes again a man stood at the end of her table watching her. She started. The slushy contents of her glass rocked over the edge, sliding thickly down the angled curve to pool on her fingers.
With a frown, Loralei switched hands, brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked.
The man groaned low in his throat. Uneasiness crawled up to settle right between her shoulder blades.
“Do you mind if I sit?” he asked, folding his body in half before he’d finished the question.
“Yes, I do mind. Nothing personal, but I’m not looking for company.”
His body stalled, shock crossing his face for the briefest moment before it was gone again. She supposed he was the kind of guy who didn’t hear the word no often. He was handsome enough in a professional kind of way. Probably on vacation. Possibly with a wife upstairs.
A smarmy smile replaced his startled expression, as if he expected she would change her mind at any moment.
Something about this guy made her seriously uncomfortable. And that was saying something considering the emotional turmoil she’d already been struggling with.
At least he straightened, keeping his rear from occupying the seat opposite her. “Let me buy you another drink.”
“Nope, I just got this one and I plan on nursing it for a while.”
She hadn’t been, but what was a little white lie in the grand scheme of things? Nothing if it kept his guy away from her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Loralei watched a man she’d noticed on the docks stalk across the bar. Over her admirer’s shoulder, she saw him walking in their direction.
Now he was gorgeous in a blond-surf-god kind of way. Tall, if she had to guess, several inches over six feet. Being five-ten she was used to looking most men in the eye. But not him.
If she’d been here to pick up someone, he definitely would have been on her list of prospects. Tall and muscular. The kind of guy whose mere presence commanded attention.
Yummy on a stick, as Melody would say.
He was wearing a pair of khaki shorts with about a million pockets sewn up and down the thighs. A pale blue polo stretched taut across his broad chest, the soft material doing little to conceal the swell of pecks and dip of abs. He hadn’t bothered to fasten the three tiny buttons, and she could see a dusting of pale blond hair that swept across his chest.
The color perfectly matched the honey-toned, tousled hair on his head, which looked as if he, the wind or some red-lipped siren had just been ruffling through it.
Loralei’s mouth went dry. Bringing the glass she still held to her lips, she gulped down a huge swallow of the slushy goodness to try to relieve the pressure. It didn’t quite work.
Especially when she realized the bronzed god was heading straight for her and not to one of the nearby tables.
She barely had time for a full breath before he was pushing the guy she’d completely forgotten out of the way.
“Excuse me,” he said, drawing close to her.
Leaning down, he brushed his mouth against hers, warm and soft. All Loralei could do was sit there and stare up at him.
“Sorry I’m late, baby,” he murmured, the low timber of his voice making every muscle in her body melt. She was pretty sure he’d also liquefied the frozen drink in her glass.
Somehow she managed to murmur something that obviously passed as appropriate because he smiled down at her, his unbelievably blue eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief.
Loralei’s mouth dropped open—she wasn’t sure if the gesture was an invitation for him to kiss her again or because she knew she should say something like, Who the hell are you?
