Rich Man, Poor Bride. Linda Goodnight

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СКАЧАТЬ through him. How was it that the same woman who’d come uninvited into his suite was now his server in the restaurant. A waitress with her sights set on a better life could gain access to information about each guest. She would have known he was single and alone, and the fact that he had money was evident in his use of the penthouse suite. Perhaps she’d come to his room, hoping he’d welcome her. Or more likely she’d thought he wasn’t in the room and had come snooping. Although he couldn’t decide what purpose that would serve.

      Yes, she remained an enigma, and he would be very careful about solving that puzzle.

      Sipping at the glass of fine wine, he watched her move with speed and grace between his table and two others near by. While she’d been stiff and formal taking his order, she appeared more relaxed everywhere else, smiling, talking in a soft drawl that tickled his ears. He wondered about that. Why would she finagle her way into his room under false pretenses then behave as though she didn’t want to see him at all?

      Sad for a man to become so jaded that he believed he represented a trust fund to all females. But that was the truth, as hard as it was to swallow sometimes.

      Perhaps Ruthie was, as she claimed, a hotel employee who’d made a mistake by entering his room un-announced and unbidden. He wondered why he couldn’t leave it at that, just as he wondered why she’d stayed in his head all afternoon.

      “Diego.” Sharmaine tapped one finger on his arm.

      Reluctantly he drew his thoughts away from the mysterious young woman and back to his date.

      “The beach in moonlight is beautiful, isn’t it?” he offered, hoping Sharmaine had not noticed his mental lapse.

      Sharmaine tilted her wineglass in a toast. “Aren’t you a smooth one? Staring at the waitress one minute and talking about moonlight in the next.”

      “Waitress?” He feigned innocence. “What waitress? I was looking for the magician who made you so lovely.”

      That much at least was true. Sharmaine was a beautiful woman.

      She cocked an eyebrow and laughed. “Good answer.”

      Stroking the front of her dress, she toyed with the pendant dangling between her breasts. As red-blooded as any man, Diego followed the movement and recognized the invitation. But he wasn’t ready to RSVP. Not yet, anyway.

      “After dinner maybe we could walk along the beach. The water looks calm and peaceful.” Peace. Something he craved right now.

      “In this dress and these shoes? No suga’, not this little girl. Now, dancing might be fun.”

      Disappointment filtered through Diego. He’d much rather have taken dinner at the outside café so he could feel the breeze and smell the ocean. They were at a gorgeous resort with miles and miles of wild subtropical island around them. Sharmaine had recommended the elegant Banyan Room, but in his estimation, nothing man invented could beat the beauty of nature.

      “Dancing it is.” His reply was polite if not enthusiastic. He liked dancing, was good at it, thanks to lessons as a child, but tonight he longed for something more…natural.

      In his peripheral vision, he saw his waitress at the table on the opposite side of a small border of plants. For reasons he couldn’t understand, his radar went up and he overheard a man’s voice coming from that direction. He couldn’t catch the words but he caught the inflection. Her soft drawl murmured something in return. The man’s voice, slurred as if he’d had too much to drink, elevated. Harsh words followed a near-insulting turn of phrase.

      The hairs on Diego’s arm rose to attention. No man, regardless of his status, had a right to speak that way to a woman. And he sure had no business hitting on the waitress in a posh restaurant. If the fellow didn’t shut up, he might have to cut his vacation short to visit an orthodontist.

      “Sir.” The waitress’s voice, though strained, remained ever so polite. “I would appreciate it if you’d let go of my arm.”

      He had hold of her arm!

      Diego fisted his napkin, thrust it onto the table and started to rise. Fire boiled in his belly.

      “Diego?” Sharmaine looked up at him with startled blue eyes. “You look positively fierce. Whatever are you doing?”

      “I’m going to instruct the man at the next table in some badly neglected manners.”

      “Oh, don’t be silly.” She waved off his concerns. “Girls like that know how to take care of themselves.”

      He wanted to ask what she meant by “girls like that,” but he was much too focused on the other table. “She shouldn’t have to.”

      Before he could think the matter through he was standing next to the waitress glaring down at a twenty-something surfer boy with I-get-what-I-want written all over him. “Is there a problem here?”

      The blond man snarled. “Butt out, buddy.”

      “Please, Dr. Vargas, don’t concern yourself.” Her soft drawl was laced with tension, her pretty green eyes worried. “Return to your table and I’ll be with you shortly.”

      “Not until this guy takes his hands off you.”

      “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t make a scene,” she said firmly. “Everything here is under control.”

      “Doesn’t look that way to me.” He speared the surfer boy with a challenging glare. “Hands off. Now.”

      The man let go of her arm and scraped his chair back. He was at least six feet tall but looked as soft as an old pillow.

      The young woman’s eyes widened in alarm. “Gentlemen, please sit down before the manager is alerted and we disturb other guests. This is a restaurant, not a barroom.”

      “That’s right, Vargas. If Ruthie here wants to spend some extra time with me, that’s our business. Right, Ruthie?”

      “Mr. Peterson, if you’ll take your seat, we’ll talk again after your meal. Okay?”

      The surfer considered her suggestion for a moment, posturing a bit for Diego’s benefit, then he shrugged. “Sure, baby. Why not? Later works better, anyway—if you get my drift.”

      Fire still burned inside Diego. He really wanted to punch the insulting little twerp, but Ruthie seemed bent on making peace.

      “Dr. Vargas, let me escort you to your table and pour you another glass of wine.”

      Reluctantly, Diego turned back toward his table but couldn’t resist a final glare at the other man. Ruthie was at his elbow.

      “Please, sir,” she hissed, green eyes wide and anxious. “You’re going to get me fired.”

      Incredulous, he stopped and stared at her. “I was trying to help you.”

      “I can take care of myself.”

      “Didn’t sound that way from where I was sitting.”

      “Keeping guests happy is part of my job. If one of them has a few too many cocktails СКАЧАТЬ