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He flashed her a smile. “I'll freshen up after you change. It won't take me long.”
Nodding, she turned toward the bedroom, leaving him gazing out the big window toward the darkening beach beyond. It was definitely a good thing she had chosen to go out, considering the way her hands were shaking merely in response to his lethal smile.
The sun had set by the time they went out, though the temperature was still pleasantly warm. Feeling as though she were playing dress-up, B.J. wore the fuchsia dress. The garment was a much brighter color than she would have chosen for herself, the bodice too lowcut, the hem too high. While she supposed it was fairly modest compared to some of the outfits she saw when they entered the rather crowded outdoor lounge, she would have been much more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt.
Because it had seemed almost obligatory with the dress, she had even worn makeup for the evening, forcing herself to open the gift basket Drake had sent to the suite. She'd assured herself she didn't have to like him to take advantage of his generosity—especially since he probably had ulterior motives in making the gesture—but it still felt wrong somehow.
Daniel had told her she looked very nice. As usual, she hadn't been able to read his expression to judge whether he'd really meant the compliment or if he was only being polite. Glancing from beneath her eyelashes at the sleek, beautiful women occupying the candlelit little tables around them in the outdoor lounge, she couldn't help thinking that she must stand out among them like a plain brown sparrow in an exotic aviary.
Daniel, on the other hand, fit in very well with the glamorous crowd. His black hair still slightly damp from his quick shower, he wore a thin white shirt and loose cream-colored slacks that contrasted intriguingly with his dark skin and emphasized his long, lean body.
She noticed how many of the beautiful women—and a few of the beautiful men—turned to stare at Daniel as they crossed the stone floor to a rather isolated empty table. She wondered if it was only paranoia making her think she saw surprise in their eyes that a man like Daniel was with her.
“What's wrong?” he asked as he held her chair for her.
It bugged her that he sensed her moods so easily. “Nothing.”
He pulled his chair so close to hers that their knees touched beneath the tiny table. “Appearances,” he reminded her when she looked inquiringly at him.
“I'm not sure anything is going to make it appear that I belong at a place like this,” she murmured, waving a hand around the lounge, with its smooth stone floor, low rock walls lined with waving palm trees and huge pots of tropical flowers, colorful overhead lanterns and dozens of flickering candles.
In the center of the circular lounge was a small bandstand on which a five-piece ensemble played sultry dance music. A wooden dance floor surrounded the bandstand, making it easily accessible from any table, and several bronzed, toned, bleached and designer-clad couples took advantage of the chance to show off their dancing skills. The place was a far cry from the beer-and-barbecue joints her solidly middle-class family tended to frequent back home in Texas.
Daniel frowned. “Why wouldn't you look as though you belong here?”
She shrugged self-consciously. “I would never be able to afford to stay at a resort like this on my own.”
“That doesn't make you inferior to anyone here. Don't mistake money for class, Britt—B.J.”
A pretty blonde in a sarong—which seemed to describe nearly every employee at this resort—stopped beside the table. “What would you like?”
“Darling?”
B.J. gave Daniel a look. It would serve him right— not to mention prove her point—if she ordered root beer. “Why don't you order for us, darling?”
His smile flashed, giving her just a fleeting glimpse of the shallow dimple in his left cheek. She remembered having a rather obsessive fascination with that elusive dimple when she was fourteen. “Champagne, then—since it's your favorite.”
He glanced at the server and ordered a brand B.J. didn't recognize. Probably very expensive.
“Champagne is my favorite drink?” she murmured when the server moved away.
“It seemed to fit in character.”
Because it was making her rather nervous to be sit ting so close to him, gazing into his dark eyes, she forced herself to look away, turning her attention toward the bandstand. Reflections of the tiny white lights strung above them glittered like stars on the glossy grand piano and gleaming wind instruments.
Beneath the bluesy music she could just hear the sound of the ocean. The scent of tropical blooms drifted past her on a light breeze. The slow swaying of the dancing couples was almost hypnotic.
The server returned with their champagne. B.J. took an appreciative sip before saying, “One thing I will say about Creepy Guy, he runs a nice place.”
Though the corners of Daniel's mouth twitched, he glanced quickly around, silently reminding her that she had to be careful. “It does look nice,” he murmured. “On the surface.”
Yet another reminder that danger lurked beneath the exotic beauty here. Glancing around, she saw Bernard and another large man sharing a table near the stage. Though the men weren't looking her way, she had little doubt they had been aware of the moment she and Daniel arrived. She shivered.
Daniel slipped an arm around her, his shirt fabric very soft against the skin her dress left bare. “Cold?”
“No.” Definitely not cold. Not now, anyway.
