A Holiday Romance. Carrie Alexander

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      His mouth moved without quite reaching a smile. “Good evening.” One eyebrow tilted. “Miss Potter.”

      Alice laughed and walked away. The swish of her full skirt no longer felt gaudy. It was festive.

      

       K YLE STAYED at the bar in the Manzanita Lounge, ordering a turkey club sandwich from the grill. He chatted with Ramon about hoops and colleges and then college hoops during the bartender’s few quiet moments. That’d show Lani, he thought to himself at one point, even though the gibe felt immature when she was only thinking of his goodwill. His own mother had never been the type to monitor his social progress. She’d rarely even remembered to tell him to eat his vegetables.

      From his position, he could see into the neighboring restaurant. At a distant table, a small one tucked in a corner beside a window, sat Miss Potter. Solo. His eyes returned to her again and again throughout the hour, watching as she alternately stared dreamily out the window and scribbled in a small notebook she set aside only when her dinner was served.

       Alice Potter of Osprey Island, Maine. She was nothing extraordinary. Mild, affable, a little awkward. And yet something about her had engaged his interest.

      Her gentle brown eyes…her tremulous attempt at witty conversation?

      He considered, watching a smile light her face when a waiter arrived with her dessert, a miniature tower of cake drizzled with fruit and chocolate sauce. She studied the plate for a moment, then picked up a fork, pausing only to look around the room with an expectant smile that went unreturned. Her pleasure dimmed as she focused on the dessert.

      Kyle gritted his teeth. Perhaps it was her loneliness that drew him.

      He glanced away, fully aware that his continuing presence had put the lounge employees on edge. They hurried back and forth, giving their patrons one level above the usual top-notch service. None had taken a break to dally at the bar and shoot the breeze with Ramon the way they usually might.

      They would be dying for Kyle to leave already. Not a single one of them would believe that the pressure on him to deliver far outweighed theirs. Some days—and some solitary middle-of-the-nights—he felt as though an elephant sat on his chest.

      He lifted a finger to the bartender, who reacted instantly. The attentiveness meant everything to Kyle. He had command. He’d instilled in the staff a discipline that matched his own. Those things were more important than fleeting gratification or needy personal relationships that only caused trouble.

      Ramon parked his fists on his hips. “Can I get you another, boss?”

      The plate from Kyle’s meal had been removed, but a small pool of alcohol remained in his glass. “No, thanks. One’s my limit.” He crooked a finger. “Tell me…”

      The bartender leaned in.

      “When I leave, will the entire staff go on break at once?”

      After a startled moment, Ramon smiled. “They’ll wait five minutes to be sure you’re gone.”

      Kyle nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He pushed aside a crumpled cocktail napkin, dropped his feet to the floor. “Prepare for the mass exodus.”

      He stood and turned, catching sight of Alice Potter again. A waiter was taking away her dessert plate. She glanced at the other diners, catching her bottom lip with her teeth.

      “I changed my mind,” he said to the young bartender. “Give me two glasses of champagne, please.”

      “Right away.”

      Kyle saw that all charges were added to his account, along with a hefty tip for Ramon, then carried the fine crystal into the restaurant. It had begun to empty out, but a number of patrons lingered over drinks to enjoy the Old World atmosphere.

      Alice Potter was leaning forward on stiff arms as she gazed out the window at the twinkle of the patio lights and the dark sky beyond. She looked up with surprise when Kyle set the champagne flute in front of her.

      “Miss Potter,” he said. “Your first night here deserves to be toasted with champagne. May I join you?”

      Her fingers fluttered to her hair, worn shoulder-length in a rather shapeless brown bob. “Of course. But could we go outside to the patio? I was just thinking that I’d like to sit under the stars.”

      He picked up the flutes. “Lead the way.”

      She rose, hesitant as she reached for her handbag. “I haven’t paid the—”

      “It’s taken care of.”

      “Oh. Thank you. Thank you so much.” She seemed uncertain about accepting. “I suppose you can do that, charge it to the house, when you are the house.”

      “Yes,” he said slowly. So she knew who he was. “Although I’m not really the house. Merely the overseer.” He caught the handle of the patio door with two fingers just as she reached for it, too. Their fingertips pressed.

      She yanked her hand away. A waiter stepped in, holding the door open and smoothly relieving Kyle of the glasses.

      There was an open table at the periphery, where sage and lavender swayed in the breeze. Kyle held out a chair for Alice.

      She glanced at him with a shy smile as he seated himself. “You’re so mannerly.”

      “I learned to be,” he admitted. “That’s not how I grew up.”

      “Oh?”

      He shrugged off her questioning look, not willing to go there. “You’re a long way from home.”

      She sipped her champagne, quite the lady herself. “That’s the idea.” She turned her head toward the cooling breeze rolling in off the mountains. “I wanted to be as far away as I could manage. In an unfamiliar place.”

      “You’ve never been to the Southwest before?”

      “Not since a high-school class trip to Mazatlán. I haven’t been very adventurous. But I’m going to make up for that.” She made a face, and he liked her wry honesty, even the humility.

      “During dinner,” she continued, “I was working on a list.”

      His interest deepened. “May I see it?”

      “Oh, no, it’s embarrassing.”

      “Come on,” he coaxed.

      Her cheeks were pink, her eyes large and velvety dark, dominating her oval face. She was almost pretty. “It’s nothing. Only a standard list of things to do and places to go while I’m here.”

      “Then it can’t be embarrassing.”

      “That depends. You don’t think it’s embarrassing for a thirty-four-year-old woman to admit that she has about as much experience as a potted plant?”

      Kyle grinned. “I doubt that’s true.”

      She returned the grin, erasing every trace СКАЧАТЬ