A Memorable Man. Joan Hohl

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      “Mmm,” Sunny nodded, dipping the spoon into the creamy broth once again. “Heavenly.”

      “You’re right,” he murmured, after his first sip. “Absolutely heavenly.”

      Though she smiled, she made no response.

      Adam concluded that when the hungry Sunny involved herself with eating, her involvement was complete. He couldn’t help but wonder if she became as deeply involved while in the process of assuaging a different, more earthy appetite.

      The soup was consumed in silence. While polishing off his soup, Adam was consumed by erotic images of Sunny, feasting on the sustenance of his mouth.

      “Oh, that was wonderful,” she said when the last drop had been scooped from the bowl. She grinned. “Had I known, I wouldn’t have had to order the salmon. I could have made a meal of a large bowl of the soup.”

      I could make a meal of you.

      The smile that tugged at Adam’s lips was more in response to his thought than Sunny’s impish grin.

      “We could change your...” he began, then shook his head on sight of the waiter approaching the table, a large tray balanced on one palm and held aloft at shoulder level. “No, we couldn’t,” he went on, lowering his voice as the waiter came to a stop. “You’ll have to settle for the fish.”

      “Oh, that’s okay.” She shrugged. “I like fish...as you should know.”

      Adam scowled at her and at the taunting remark and undertones of her voice.

      Of course, with the waiter there, he could not retaliate or even question her assertion, not without sounding like a reject from a New Age publishing house.

      “Mmm, it all looks and smells delicious.” Sunny gave the waiter a decidedly sunny smile. “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome,” he replied, returning her smile full wattage, while sparing a mere glance at Adam. “Ma’am, sir, enjoy your dinner.” Giving a half bow from the waist, he withdrew from the table.

      “Nice young man, isn’t he?” she asked, brightly.

      “Charming,” he said, darkly.

      Her lips twitched; her eyes teased. “I do love the sound of that gentle Virginia drawl.”

      Adam grunted and slanted a pointed look at her plate. “I thought you were starving?”

      “That was before the soup,” she said, pleasantly. “Now I’m merely hungry.”

      “Then eat.” Adam was chagrined by the snarling sound of his voice, and even more so by the startling rush of emotions that had caused it.

      That old green-eyed monster again?

      First that gut-wrenching twinge because he thought Sunny’s reference to an Andrew was to an actual, living, breathing man, and now because of a pleasant, soft-spoken—incidentally good looking—young waiter?

      Adam rejected the very idea; or at least he tried to reject it. Problem was, it wouldn’t stay rejected. His mind persisted in examining the phenomenon.

      Could he actually be jealous of the smile, the brief attention she had bestowed upon the seemingly ubiquitous waiter? he mused uncomfortably.

      Ridiculous. He barely knew the woman—and he wasn’t too sure about her mental stability. The very idea of him being jealous was ludicrous in the extreme.

      So why, then, was he feeling as if he wanted to break things, starting with the Virginia drawlvoiced waiter?

      “Have you lost your appetite?”

      Sunny’s question intruded upon his unappealing ruminations. For the salmon in dill sauce, yes, he answered in silent frustration. But for her, dammit, no.

      Noting with some surprise that she had made inroads into her meal, Adam avoided responding by posing a query of his own. “Is it good?”

      “Excellent.” She smiled; his pulses raced. “But why not try it for yourself?”

      He did. She was right. It was excellent. But Adam was no longer hungry. Not for food. Nevertheless, he continued to eat, growing more restless by the minute.

      When at last they had finished and the charming waiter had served their coffee and removed their plates and himself, Adam determined to have answers.

      “Okay, you said you’d explain after dinner.” He arched his eyebrows. “I’m listening.”

      Sunny gnawed on her lip and glanced around at the laughing, chatting diners crowding the room. “Not here,” she murmured. “I’d prefer somewhere more private.”

      “Like one of the seating areas in the lobby?”

      “Or, better yet... Perhaps, your room?”

      Three

      Sunny’s prosaically delivered suggestion had an electrifying effect on Adam.

      Did she realize the connotations he could... was attaching to her proposal? he reflected, staring at her expectant expression in surprised disbelief. Or, he further mused, had she tossed out a deliberate proposition?

      The concept didn’t seem to fit what Adam had thus far garnered about her character—but on the other hand, what he actually knew about Miss Sunshine Dase was in fact sorely lacking in evidence.

      “Of course, if you prefer one of the seating areas...” she said, shrugging when his silence lengthened.

      “Not at all,” Adam was quick to assure her, taking a deep swallow of his coffee in hopes of relieving the sudden dryness in his throat. “You just caught me off guard,” he admitted, draining the cup before continuing, “I...er, you’re not afraid or even uncertain of being alone with me?”

      “Not at all,” Sunny mimicked, softening her gentle mockery with a confident smile. “I have never, would never, will never be afraid or uncertain of being alone with you.”

      “Why not?” he asked at once, his voice harsh with demand. “What assurance do you have?”

      “Because I know you...so well.” Her voice held a note of wistfulness, her eyes, those deep green windows to her soul, were shadowed with regret. “I know you would sacrifice yourself before you would deliberately hurt me.”

      Oh, God. What had he gotten into here? Adam asked himself, feeling torn between conflicting, yet equal desires. While part of him, the down-toearth, logical part, urged him to retreat, another part, the captivated, fascinated part, demanded he forge ahead, explore the possibilities.

      The inner conflict must have been written plain as day in his expression; it became obvious that Sunny had no difficulty reading him like an open book.

      “You can always change your mind,” she offered, keeping her expression devoid of whatever she might be feeling.

      “No.” СКАЧАТЬ