Man...Mercenary...Monarch. Joan Elliott Pickart
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Dear heaven, she thought, she could hardly breathe, and the wild tempo of her racing heart was echoing in her ears. Those eyes. Those incredible eyes of his were pinning her in place, making it impossible to move, to tear her gaze from his.
“I’m not going to gobble you up for dinner,” he said, frowning. “You still look scared to death. I’m not the bad guy here, you know. I rescued you from Pete the Pest, remember?”
Laura folded her hands on the top of the table and managed to shift her eyes to her entwined fingers.
“Yes, I know,” she said quietly, “and I want to thank you for what you did. I wasn’t handling the situation with that man well at all.” She sighed. “I never should have come here alone.”
“Why did you?”
“I…I just couldn’t face another long evening alone.” She shook her head. “Listen to me. I don’t go around baring my soul to perfect strangers.” She met his gaze again. “I’m acting completely out of character tonight.”
“Well, if it will make you feel any better, I’m not perfect, nor am I a stranger. I’m the knight who rode in on my white horse and saved you, the damsel in distress.
“And as far as baring your soul? I’m in this crummy place because I couldn’t handle the four walls that were closing in on me. I needed to escape from my own thoughts. And I can’t quite believe I’m telling you all this.”
Laura smiled. “I guess we’re both behaving out of character. I suppose the least we should do is introduce ourselves.”
“No, wait,” he said, raising one hand. “Since we’re behaving so far from the norm, let’s stick with first names only. That will make this whole thing not quite…well, real. I’m John.”
“Hello, John. I’m Laura.”
“Pretty name,” he said, smiling slightly, “for a pretty lady.”
Laura cocked her head to one side and studied John intently.
“You don’t smile often, do you?” she said. “Your smiles just don’t materialize naturally.”
John lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve never thought about it,” He paused. “No, I guess I don’t have a hell of a lot to smile about.”
The waitress appeared suddenly at the booth, startling both Laura and John.
“I see you took my advice, cowboy,” she said, then looked at Laura. “Drink?”
“Just a cola, please,” Laura said.
“You bet. Well, good-lookin’,” she said to John, “you’ve got yourself a pretty woman, you’re doin’ some drinkin’, so get out on the floor and do the dancin’ part. You’ll forget your troubles in no time at all. Be right back with the cola.”
John shook his head as the waitress hurried away.
“She probably actually believes that problems are that easily solved,” he said.
“Do you have problems?” Laura said.
“Doesn’t everyone?” John said, raising one eyebrow.
The waitress returned and slid a glass in front of Laura, then she disappeared again. Laura took a sip from the straw poking through the ice.
“Well,” she said slowly, “I suppose problems are subjective. One person could be upset because they couldn’t find exactly the right shoes to match a new party dress. While another person could be in turmoil due to a serious illness they’re suffering from. But each would say they had a problem.”
“Ah,” John said, “the lady is a heavy thinker, but what you’re saying makes sense.” He paused. “Since we’ve agreed that tonight is a step away from reality, why don’t you pretend you’ve known me for a long time and tell me your problems?”
As Laura looked at John, a strange warmth suffused her, a sense of peacefulness that was interwoven with a tingling excitement at being in close proximity to such a blatantly masculine man.
Yes, she thought, she could talk to John and he would listen, really hear, what she had to say. But she had a feeling that her woes fell into the category of the new shoes to match the party dress.
John appeared deeply troubled. There was fatigue etched on his ruggedly handsome face, and shifting emotions she couldn’t define were reflected in the icy blue depths of his eyes. It was as though a massive weight was pressing on his broad, strong shoulders.
Oh, such fanciful ramblings. She was actually beginning to believe that she did know John well enough to sense that he was experiencing a great deal of inner turmoil, and that he needed her to share his crushing burden.
“Are we on equal terms, John?” she said. “I believe you keep your innermost feelings to yourself. I also think that you’re a loner, a man who moves through life marching to the beat of his own drummer.”
Laura smiled. “Don’t ask me where all that came from, because I really don’t know. I just feel very tuned in to you somehow.” Her smile faded. “Are you going to be honest and open with me, if I am with you?”
Hell, no, John thought, taking a swig of the beer that was now distastefully warm. He didn’t dump his problems on anyone…never had, never would.
He was a loner, just as Laura had pegged him. To have someone to share with required a man to belong, to fit in, and that just wasn’t the way his deck was stacked.
But yet…
This woman, this Laura with the unknown last name, was reaching out to him, and for reasons he couldn’t begin to understand he was starting to allow her to touch him deep within, could feel the warmth and gentleness of her caring.
Crazy. This whole conversation with Laura was nuts. He was succumbing to his bone-deep exhaustion and the tangled maze in his beleaguered brain. Hell, this was more than a step away from reality, it was a world apart from how he normally operated.
He should leave, just get up and walk out of there.
But he didn’t want to, wasn’t going to, and he was definitely losing his mind.
Ah, what the hell. Maybe if he talked about what he was facing, he could get a better handle on it, decide on a course of action.
That would sure as hell be a new way of doing things for him, but this night was different from any other…and so was pretty Laura. Oh, yes, so was Laura.
He nodded. “Okay. You’ve got a deal. We’ll be honest and up front.” A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “After all, we’ve known each other for years. Right?”
Their eyes met and the music and noise of the crowd faded into oblivion. They were encased in a sudden hazy mist that swirled around them, dipping, stroking, heightening awareness of the other and causing embers of desire to begin to glow deep within them.
“Right,” Laura whispered, unable to tear her gaze from John’s. “I’ve known you for years and years, John.”
He nodded slowly, attempting and failing to ignore the coiling heat low in his body, and the increased tempo of his heart.
Lust? he thought, in self-disgust. He was no better than Pete the Pest. Worse yet was the fact that Laura wasn’t even his type.
She hadn’t come into Jake’s looking for a man, hadn’t been on the prowl like the other women who knew the rules and how to play the game. Lust. He could feel his body reacting to Laura. What a sleaze-ball he was.
But maybe…yeah, maybe, this wasn’t lust in its usual form. He and Laura were connecting in a place they had invented just for themselves, for these few hours stolen out of time.
They were caring, sharing, being there for each other in their loneliness, fulfilling needs. This heat thrumming low