Two heartbeats followed her statement and his humor resurfaced. “Well now, if you’re done with your beer, we can take care of your imagination with a reality check.”
She put the half-full bottle down, not really caring if she finished it. He motioned to the waitress. The action pulled her gaze to the way his shirt tightened over his chest.
Oh, yeah.
She definitely preferred reality.
Chapter Two
Rowdy noticed the resemblance in the elevator on the ride to the fifteenth floor. He glanced sideways at Kim. Like him, she stood next to the back wall of the elevator, posture ramrod straight, hands relaxed at her sides, feet parallel and perfectly pointed forward. At his chuckle, she aimed a questioning glance in his direction.
He opened his mouth to answer, but the elevator dinged and the doors swished open. They both started forward, right foot first. His chuckle turned into a full laugh. She paused and pivoted to face him while he struggled to get himself under control. He laughed like some sixteen year-old, certain he would make it to third base before the date was over.
The humiliating, if humbling thought, sobered him.
“Dare I ask?” Her eyebrows arched in a delicious curve and the corners of her mouth flattened. Fortunately, she didn’t look annoyed, only curious.
“Just noticing some similarities. Had I seen you walk in, I would have pegged you Marine from the get go.” He glanced at the wall sign and gestured for her to precede him down the hall.
“Ahh, then you have discovered why I staged it to watch you arrive.” The teasing look she tossed him evaporated the rest of his humor and sent awareness flaming through his blood.
“Not really sure I care who got here first….” Admittedly, there was a hell of a lot about the lady he didn’t know yet and—if he thought about it for any length of time—too many unasked questions.
At the door of their reserved room, he pulled out the electronic keycard that he’d gotten earlier from the dating service, along with the address and the confirmation of their date. The lock flicked from red to green and he opened it.
The suite was far more sumptuous than his utilitarian apartment on base. From the plush, thick carpet, cheerful fireplace and candles waiting to be lit set romantically about the room to the champagne chilling on ice…it cried out luxury and hedonism. He held the door until Kim entered. She let out a low whistle, but her expression didn’t say impressed.
The room’s low lighting didn’t mute the storm’s increased force outside. Sheets of rain coated the windows and lightning flashed in the distance.
“I’m thinking you’ve been holding out on me, Marine.” The entry way descended three steps into the main suite. It was a luxurious room, but the sitting room was framed around the fireplace, with the bed tucked into the corner. It was cozy, romantic, and everything a couple needed for a night of passion.
He flipped the security bar shut and followed her casual path through the room. Does she just see the affluence? The Castillos did a fantastic job of blending wealth and comfort. The expense didn’t matter, but the effect did.
“It’s a nice room in a nice hotel in the capitol.” The deflection rang hollow and he could only imagine she heard the same emptiness. Kim walked over to the windows as though watching the storm, but he sensed the weight of her regard via the reflection in the glass. “Champagne?”
“You’re suddenly uncomfortable.” It wasn’t a question. “What changed between downstairs and now?”
He’d had alcohol downstairs. Considering the options, he bypassed the champagne and rummaged around the small wet bar until he found a bottle of tequila. He ignored the price tag, pulled it out and held it up.
She turned. “We need salt and lime to do it justice.”
“Yes we do.” He couldn’t agree more. Setting the bottle on the table, he dialed room service. “You want anything to eat?”
“Whatever is fine.”
When they answered on the second ring, he blew out a breath and managed a calm that did not reflect his inner turmoil. Something was off in the whole situation and he couldn’t put his finger on it. His instincts screamed, however, and he chose to listen to them right then.
“Hey can you send a couple of sampler platters and a pair of limes cut up for drinking and some salt? You can deliver the limes and salt early.” He replaced the phone in the cradle, pulled off his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves.
“Okay, now you’re really not comfortable.” She studied him with a faint frown.
“You’re right. I’m not. Never thought I’d be the guy who said an empty one-night stand didn’t appeal to me.” He threw the jacket on the bed and stared back at her. She was even more beautiful in the room than in the low light in the lounge downstairs or the fluorescent in the elevator. Her skin was like fine porcelain, pale enough to make the freckles—freckles she tried to cover with makeup—stand out. But she didn’t look washed out. Far from it. She was peaches and cream, a fine white wine, a rich sauce. Her amber eyes reflected the light occasionally and her red hair, tucked back into a neat ponytail, needed to be let loose.