“Refill,
miss?”
The
bartender’s voice drifted to her above the sounds of ice clinking in glasses,
muted conversations and soft rock in the background. Charlotte regarded her empty
wineglass on the gleaming bar top. She wanted another but she knew how Pinot
Noir affected her on an empty stomach, so she shook her head. Not a good idea
to be tipsy when her blind date finally arrived. She glanced at her watch again
and frowned. Was he standing her up? Wouldn’t
that beat all? She’d been dragged into this arrangement kicking and
screaming only agreeing after her supposed-best
friend pulled out the “you owe me” card.
“Sorry
I’m late.”
She
knew that deep, rich voice. No! This
wasn’t happening, couldn’t be happening. She swiveled in the seat. Oh, but
it was. At least the bar stool gave her enough height so she didn’t have to
crane her neck to look him in the eyes. Those polished steel gray eyes that
melted her heart the first time she’d gazed into them. Those same gray eyes
that shredded her heart into a million strips the last time she saw them. Luke Pallas.
“And
don’t go blaming Lizzie, she doesn’t know.”
The
blood rushing in her ears blocked out all background noise. It was as if they were
alone in the lounge area of the upscale restaurant. “How…how…?”
“I
assume those flaming daggers aren’t just for me.” He reached over to rest his
hand against the bar, effectively blocking a quick exit. “Lizzie’s innocent. The
blind date was real. I–” He cleared his throat. “I dispatched him.”
“Dispatched
him? For heaven’s sakes, Luke, who
talks like that?” She huffed out a breath and shook her head. “And what did you
do? Flash your gun and badge at him?”
He
didn’t need to respond, the flush of color high on those chiseled cheeks
answered for him.
“Wouldn’t
the FBI frown on using your official capacity to scare off my dates?”
“If
they—dates, as in plural? Exactly how many have you had?” He narrowed his eyes
as he studied her.
“I
haven’t—hey, it’s none of your business. Did you think after we broke up I spent
my nights lying in a fetal position crying my eyes out?”She prayed the miserable
truth didn’t show on her face.
“Why
not, that’s what I did.”
She
made a derisive sound with her tongue and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“Got
drunk and passed out every night.” He shrugged as his generous lips lifted in a
wry smile. “It’s the guy version.”
A
passing couple jostled him and he leaned closer. She got a whiff of soap and
spicy aftershave. Swallowing hard, she tried to dislodge the lump in her
throat. She was so not doing this. She started to rise but
he stopped her with his hand on her arm.
“Stay
and have dinner with me. I noticed you checking your watch. I figure you must
be hungry.”
“You
were watching me? Why didn’t you come over sooner?”
“I
was waiting for you to finish your wine.”
“But…why?”
He
grinned lopsidedly. “I didn’t fancy wearing Pinot Noir. This is a new suit.”
“Did
you just say fancy?” Laughter bubbled up. Only Luke could make her feel like
this. Angry one minute and amused the next. “You can’t tell me the other agents
don’t razz you for saying stuff like that.”
“I
doubt amusing you is what my father meant when he assured me spending my
formative years overseas would be beneficial.”
She
knew Luke didn’t readily open up, but he had confided in her about his lonely
childhood with his diplomat father. “I’m sorry…that…that was rude and I—”
“Don’t
apologize.” His slender, tanned fingers squeezed her arm. “I missed your laugh,
Chuck.”
“Don’t
call me that
“Why
not?”
Because that nickname
just tore off another piece of my heart, that’s why.
“I don’t like it.”
“That’s
not what you said when I was—”
“Don’t
you dare!” She yanked her arm away. Her lungs felt as if they’d been pushed up
and squeezed into her throat. When she spoke her voice sounded low and husky
even to herself. “Our relationship is over. You don’t get to say things like
that to me anymore.”
“You
decided we were over. I don’t recall participating in that decision.”
“You
barely participated in our
relationship.”
“And
for that I apologize.” His gray eyes darkened like storm clouds. He reached out
and flicked the little hoop dangling from her ear, his fingers lingering to
caress the sensitive skin on her neck. He cleared his throat before saying, “We
men are wretched things.”
She
swatted his hand away. “What do you want? You chased away my date. You owe me
an explanation.”
“I
wanted to tell you that I’ve given up undercover work. You’re looking at the
newest member of the FBI’s Art Crime Team.”
“But…you
loved undercover.”
“I
discovered I loved something—someone—even
more.”
“Luke,
please, don’t—”
He
held up his hands, palms out. “All I’m asking for is dinner. So how about it? You
must be desperate if you agreed to a blind date.”
“You
know how I feel about blind dates?”
He
laughed. “Bushmen in the Kalahari know how you feel about blind dates.”
The
deep-throated laugh sent erotic quivers down her spine. “I should say no. That
was high-handed of you to dispatch my
date.”
“Believe
me, he wasn’t for you.”
“And
just how do you know that?”
“He
was clueless when I informed him you were ‘disinclined to acquiesce to his
request’ of a date. C’mon, I couldn’t let you have dinner with someone like
that. So, will you have dinner with me instead, Charlotte?”
“Well…where else am I going to find
a man who uses ‘fancy’ as a verb, quotes Homer as easily as Pirates of the Caribbean and carries a Glock?”
He
wiggled his eyebrows and sent her a smile that had her pulse racing. “And those
aren’t even my best talents.”
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