The Ladies' Man. Susan Mallery
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with just the right amount of interest, charm and bashfulness. It never failed.
Not even tonight, when the woman looked up, flushed, half rose, then sat back down, and in the process knocked over her nearly empty drink and scattered the slushy contents across the table and down the front of her dress.
“Oh, no,” she said, her voice soft and almost musical. “Darn. I can’t believe I…” She pressed her lips together, then looked at him.
He’d already sopped up the mess on the table with a couple of napkins. He completely ignored the dampness on her dress. Sure, he was interested, but he wasn’t stupid.
“You okay?” he asked, curious about a woman who actually said darn.
“Yes. Thank you.”
He passed over the drink he’d brought.
She glanced first at it, then at him. “I’m, ah, with someone.”
He kept his gaze on her. “Your girlfriend. I saw you come in together.”
She nodded. “She’s breaking up with her boyfriend and wanted moral support. I don’t usually…This isn’t…” She sighed. “She’ll be back soon.”
“No problem,” he said easily. “I’ll keep you company until she’s finished.”
Even in the dim light of the bar, he could see her eyes were green. Her long, dark hair hung in sensuous waves to just past her shoulders.
Carter held in a snort. Sensuous waves? He’d sure been without for a little too long if he were thinking things like that.
She shifted uncomfortably and didn’t touch the drink.
“Is it me or the bar?” he asked.
“What? Oh, both, I suppose.” Instantly, she covered her mouth, then dropped her hand to her damp lap. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s fine. I’m a great believer in the truth. So which is more scary?”
She glanced around the Blue Dog, then returned her attention to him. “Mostly you.”
He grinned. “I’m flattered.”
“Why? You want me to think you’re scary?”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice just enough to get her to sway toward him. “Not scary. Dangerous. All guys want to be dangerous. Women love that.”
She surprised him by laughing. “Okay, Carter, I can see you’re a pro and I’m way out of my league with you. I cheerfully confess I’m not the bar type and being in this setting makes me horribly uncomfortable.” She glanced at her friend. “I can’t tell if the fight’s going well or badly. What do you think?”
He looked at Eddy, who’d backed the blonde into a corner. “It depends on how you’re defining ‘well.’ I don’t think they’re actually breaking up. Do you?”
“I’m not sure. Diane was determined to tell him what she thought, once and for all. In ‘I’ sentences.”
He frowned. “In what?”
She smiled. “I think you’re not treating me with respect. I think you’re always late on purpose. That kind of thing. Although she did say something about wanting to kick him in the head, which is unlikely to help. Of course, I don’t know Eddy. He may like that sort of thing.”
Carter was totally and completely charmed. “Who are you?” he asked.
“My name is Rachel.”
“You don’t swear, you don’t hang out in bars, so what do you do?”
“How do you know I don’t swear?” she asked.
“You said ‘darn’ when you spilled your drink.”
“Oh. Right. It’s a habit. I teach kindergarten. There’s no way I can swear in front of the children, not that I ever used a lot of bad words, so I trained myself to never say them. It’s just easier. So I use words like ‘darn’ and ‘golly.’” She grinned. “Sometimes people look at me like I’m at the dull-normal end of the IQ scale, but I can live with that. It’s for the greater good. So who are you?”
A complicated question, Carter thought, knowing he couldn’t tell her the truth. “Just a guy.”
“Uh-huh.” She eyed his earring—a diamond stud—and his too-long hair. “More than just a guy. What do you do?”
That changed with the assignment, he thought. “I’m working for a chopper shop. Motorcycles,” he added.
She straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. “I know what a chopper is. I’m not some innocent fresh out of the backwoods.”
Her indignation made him want to chuckle. She reminded him of a kitten facing down a very large and powerful dog. All the arched back and hissing fury didn’t make the kitten any bigger.
“Not a lot of backwoods around here,” he said easily. “Desert, though. You could be an innocent fresh out of the desert.”
Her lips twitched, as if she were trying not to smile. He pushed her margarita toward her.
“You’re letting all the ice melt,” he told her.
She hesitated, then took a sip. “Are you from around here?” she asked.
“Born and raised. All my family’s here.”
“Such as?”
Now it was his turn to pause. He didn’t usually give out personal information. In his line of work, it could get him into trouble. But he had a feeling Rachel wasn’t going to be a threat to much more than his oath of celibacy.
“Three sisters, a mom. Their main purpose in life is to make me crazy.” He made the statement with equal parts love and exasperation.
Rachel looked wistful. “That’s nice. Not the crazy part, but that you’re close.”
“You’re not close to your family?”
“I don’t have any.”
He didn’t know what to say to that and reminded himself too late that he was supposed to be charming her, not reminding her that she was alone in the world.
“Are you from around here?” he asked.
“Riverside?” She shook her head. Her hair swayed and caught the light and, for the moment, totally mesmerized him. “I moved here after I graduated from college. I wanted a nice, quiet, suburban sort of place.” She sighed. “Not very exciting.”
“Hey, I’ve lived here all my life. I can show you the best spots for viewing the submarine races.”
She grinned. “Where I grew up, we went parking over by the river. Well, not really a river. More of a gully. Part of the year, it even had water in it.”
“Parking, huh?”
She shrugged. “I had my moments.”
“And now?”
Her gaze drifted to where her friend still talked to Eddy. “Not so much.” She looked back at him. “Why’d you come over?”
He smiled. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
She ducked her head and blushed. Carter couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman blush. He wanted to make her do it again.
“Thank you,” she said. “I spend my days with five-year-olds whose idea of being charming is to put glue in my hair. You’re a nice change.”
“You’re comparing me to a five-year-old?” he asked, pretending outrage.
“Well, a lot of guys have maturity issues.”
“I’m