heard of sun poisoning?” she shot back. “I’m a dermatologist’s poster child.”
“No risk of sunburn when lying on a hammock beneath a palm tree in the early evening.”
She wasn’t teased out of her mood. “Just mosquitoes.”
Robert shook his head ruefully, admiring her stubbornness, her honesty, even if it was a bit inspired by champagne. “I give up. You’re right. We have nothing in common.”
Instead of looking pleased that he’d agreed with her, Ruthie frowned deeply. He heard her sigh and watched her shoulders slump again. “I guess not.”
They both extended their forks toward the cake at the same instant. “There’s always chocolate,” he said with a smile.
“Oh, yes,” she agreed. “We’ll always have chocolate.”
Between the two of them, they killed off the first bottle of champagne and did some damage to the second in the next hour. Robert didn’t remember when he’d laughed so hard, all the while shifting in his seat as he reacted physically to the gorgeous redhead fate had thrust right under his nose.
He’d never dated a redhead. He’d never dated a curvy bundle of dimpled femininity. His women, in the past, had tended to be more the corporate shark type. Not by preference, he suddenly realized, but merely by circumstance.
His brothers had been telling him for years to get the hell out of New York before he found himself married to one of the piranhas he’d been dating. Robert didn’t worry. He had no intention of marrying anyone. His job was too important to him—and too demanding—to try to find time to share his life with a family. Dating piranhas helped make sure he was never tempted.
He’d never taken a woman home, of course, knowing the full Kendall clan was enough to frighten off anyone. More than that, he’d never met a woman he’d wanted to bring to North Carolina. But some members of his family had met one or two girlfriends when they’d come to visit him.
“Find a nice southern girl,” his mother had said after one disastrous dinner during which his date had picked at a salad, complaining the dressing was too rich to be fat free, then gone on to tell Robert’s father he was crazy to eat red meat these days. “One who is gentle of heart, but has blisters on her hands,” his mother had counseled, “who isn’t afraid to laugh instead of titter. A lady who can occasionally be unladylike.”
One whose eyes are the most amazing shade of green, who’s completely inept at hiding whatever she’s feeling at a particular moment. Ruthie would be a lousy poker player, he realized. Then again, Robert had never really cared for poker.
With her zany personality, he imagined she wouldn’t be much of an office person, either. He didn’t know what Ruthie did for a living, but he would bet his last dollar it had nothing to do with finances, executives, or business.
He was about to ask her when she slid from her stool and tried to push her feet into her emerald-green pumps. “This was the color my dress was supposed to be,” she explained ruefully.
“It would have looked beautiful on you.”
She winced as she slipped the other shoe on. “Shouldn’t have taken them off. Now they’re killing me.” She leaned against the table and bent forward to adjust the shoe, giving Robert a clear view of the deep cleavage revealed by her dress. The fact that he knew he shouldn’t look didn’t stop him from staring, nearly choking on a mouthful of air he suddenly felt incapable of drawing into his lungs.
“Time to shuffle off,” she said.
“You’re staying here in the hotel?” he asked, figuring she was but wanting to get more information from her.
She nodded. “I don’t have to, since my apartment’s only a few miles away. But I should take advantage of the free room, especially after so much champagne.”
Ruthie reached for the green handbag lying on the table. As she pulled the strap of the bag, she wobbled on her high heels, pulling too hard and spilling the bag, and its contents, all over the floor. “Oh, rats,” she muttered as she bent over to retrieve her belongings.
Robert froze. She hunched right in front of him, between her vacant stool and his knees, and the images that ran through his brain would have given quite a shock to colleagues who considered him a responsible, conservative man.
She rested one small hand on his thigh to steady herself, refreshing in her complete unselfconsciousness, yet utterly devastating to his composure. He watched, focusing on those fingers pressing into the gray fabric of his slacks. It took her forever, it seemed, to retrieve her comb, lipstick, room key and a bundle of netting filled with birdseed.
Robert’s mouth felt like it contained a cup of sawdust. He couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t breathe without thinking about it. He had the most intense longing to watch her hand move higher, stroking his leg, pulling him down to kneel on the floor with her. Or better yet, to bring her to her feet, then lower her onto the top of the sturdy, butcher-block table. The memory of the pale skin of her thighs above the lace of her white stockings returned with gut-clenching intensity.
Get real, Robert! You’ve known the woman an hour!
She was vulnerable, depressed, and had consumed more champagne than she should have. No way would he take advantage, even if the sparkle in her eye while they’d talked had told him, without words, she was attracted to him, too.
No. Tonight would be about chocolate cake and laughter and champagne. His hands on her body, her lips on his mouth, her scent filling his head and her sighs of pleasure would all come another night. No question about it.
“Yours, I believe?” she said as she pulled herself up, still using his knee for leverage. He didn’t know what she meant until she dropped the condom on the table with a smirk. “Even though you say you don’t need it, I don’t suppose we ought to leave it here on the floor for the staff to find!”
He shook his head. “Maybe not.” He glanced down. “See the other room key down there anywhere?”
He didn’t spot it right away, but Ruthie apparently did. She pointed to the foot of the table. “Right there. I would offer to get it, but I’m wobbly enough on these stupid shoes and don’t think I could manage bending over again! Although, I don’t have to worry about being embarrassed if I fall on my fanny right in front of you, do I? I mean, you’ve already pretty much seen me at my worst.”
“This is your worst? Piece of cake!”
They both looked over at the remains of the decimated chocolate cake resting on the table and laughed in unison.
Sliding off his stool, Robert stooped down to retrieve the key, not even thinking about how close she stood. He found himself practically kneeling at her feet, his face level with her right hip. His mouth was close to her body, close enough that he could see her dress ruffle with his every exhalation. He swallowed hard.
As if he wasn’t distracted enough by the sight of her hip and the tempting curve of her sweet backside just inches from his face, she chose that moment to turn toward him. “Having trouble?” she asked, leaning over to look down at him.
He stifled a groan. Oh, yeah, he was having some serious trouble. Trouble breathing. Trouble swallowing. Trouble thinking about anything except that she now stood directly in front of him and if he leaned forward he could press a hot kiss onto her stomach. Elsewhere. Everywhere.
She’d taste sweet—chocolate and champagne and the joy that was the essence of her.
“Do you need help?”
He definitely needed her help. But not now, not this soon, not with her in mourning for a newly ended relationship with another man. At least, he hoped it was ended.
Tomorrow, however, was another story. He’d camp out in the lobby of the hotel, if he had to, to find out who she was and where she lived. Suddenly, the upcoming months filled with business trips to Philadelphia seemed much more appealing.