Rich Man, Poor Bride. Linda Goodnight
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unobtrusively through the softly lit room.
With a deep breath, she thought, Ready or not, here we go.
“Good evening, Dr. Vargas, Miss Coleman. Welcome to the Banyan Room. My name is Ruthie and I’ll be your server tonight.”
Diego turned his attention from the lovely blond woman to her. Ruthie tried to keep her expression professional and friendly, but the minute Diego’s eyes met hers, recognition flared.
“Well. Hello again.” The corner of his mouth twitched beneath coal-black eyes that studied her intently.
Darn. Darn. Darn. Why did he have to have such a good memory?
She inclined her head, hoping to move on without further acknowledgment but couldn’t stop the hot flush sweeping over her.
Sharmaine didn’t miss the reaction. “You two have met?”
“In my suite this afternoon,” Diego said, his expression a mix of suspicion and curiosity. “Delivering towels.”
“Oh. How…interesting.” With a single glance and those choice words, Sharmaine dismissed Ruthie as an inconsequential servant.
Ruthie didn’t know why that bothered her. She’d never considered any honest work as menial, but something in Sharmaine’s tone struck at her self-confidence. For the first time in her life, Ruthie felt second-class.
Add to that, Dr. Vargas’s insinuations that she’d gone into his room for reasons other than those stated, and Ruthie knew she should be insulted. But she took it all in stride. Serving spoiled, not-so-nice guests was part of the job.
She also recognized the subtle need for Sharmaine to put her down. The claws were sheathed but Ruthie suspected that the pretty blonde was conveying a proprietary interest in the doctor. Ruthie found that almost laughable. Even if she were in the market for romance, which she was not, a man like Diego Vargas was out of her league and she knew it.
To salvage her pride and follow her boss’s orders, Ruthie concentrated on her job.
“The manager of La Torchere, Merry Montrose, wishes to extend her personal welcome, and as a token of her good will, offers you a complimentary bottle of wine.”
She sounded as stiff and pinched as a starched corset. How awful to have to carry on a conversation with a man when visions of his slender, masculine body kept flashing in her head.
“Would you care to see the wine list, sir?”
Dr. Vargas hesitated a minute, looking as if he’d say more, then seemed to take pity on her. He ordered wine—Californian, she noted—and said nothing more, but as she hurried away to turn in their order, she felt his intense black gaze follow her.
Once inside the kitchen, she longed to bolt for the back door, head up to her rooms and hide under the bed. Since when had she allowed a snooty guest to get to her? Or worse when had she ever been so oddly affected by a man—a man who’d insulted her, no less? Sure, he was handsome. And yes, she’d love to know if he wore that leather necklace underneath his crisp blue shirt. But something more than sexy looks and an embarrassing moment drew her to Diego Vargas. And whatever it was would simply have to go away.
Diego couldn’t believe his eyes. All afternoon he’d wondered about his mystery woman in the pink Speedo. And now here she was again. This time, he’d discovered her name. Ruthie.
He’d been startled to look up and recognize the fresh-faced waitress as his afternoon intruder. A waitress acting as a maid dressed like a lifeguard. If anything, seeing her again had raised more questions.
The familiar sense of wariness shifted 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