The Wager

“I’m fine, Douglas. Looks like it’s a busy night for you.”

“Yes, it is,” he said, a pleased expression on his face.

“Too busy to squeeze in another reservation?” Laura asked.

“For you? Of course not.” The older man’s eyes twinkled. He cut a glance at Josh and then back to Laura. “A table for two?”

“Yes,” Josh answered quickly. He stuck out his hand. “Josh Logan, Douglas. I really appreciate this. After hearing Laura rave about the food, I have to admit that I’m not only anxious to sample it, I’m starving.”

“It’s my pleasure, sir. And I assure you, you won’t be disappointed in the cuisine. If you’ll just give me a moment, I’ll see about a table for you.”

After Douglas excused himself, Josh turned his attention back to Laura. “Thanks for using your influence,” he told her.

“You’re welcome. And since you’re in good hands with Douglas, I’ll leave you to enjoy your dinner. It was a pleasure meeting you, Josh.”

Josh took the hand she offered, held it. “Do you have to rush off?” he asked. Besides the fact that he had yet to come clean about his reason for being there, he was also reluctant to have her leave.

“No. But I thought…I assumed you had plans for this evening.”

“Nope,” he assured her. “I asked for a table for two because I was hoping I could persuade you to stay and have dinner with me.”

“That’s very kind of you, but surely there’s someone else—Nick or another friend or a business associate—that you’d rather have dinner with.”

Josh shook his head. “Nick is going to be tied up all evening. That’s why we visited earlier today, and I don’t know anyone else in San Francisco. Besides, the least I can do is buy you dinner to thank you for answering all my questions and giving me a tour of the hotel.”

She reclaimed her hand. “It’s really not necessary. I love the Ambassador Grand, and I enjoyed showing her off to you.”

Although the detective reports and his conversations with Nick hadn’t given any indication that she was romantically involved with someone, it suddenly occurred to Josh that perhaps there was someone waiting for Laura. To his surprise, the notion that she might have a lover stirred something stormy inside him. Telling himself that his reaction was ridiculous, Josh pressed. “If you’re refusing my invitation because there’s someone waiting for you, you’re welcome to ask him to join us.”

“No. That’s not it,” she said. “I mean, there isn’t anyone waiting. That is, I’m not involved with anyone at the moment.”

Charmed by the sudden color tinging her cheeks, Josh told himself if he felt relieved by her answer it was because convincing her to accept Olivia’s offer would be easier without a man in the picture. “Do you already have plans for this evening?”

“No,” Laura answered, nerves dancing in those pale blue eyes. “It’s just that…”

“It’s just that Tuesday nights are when you wash your hair?”

Her lips twitched. “No.”

Pleased that his attempt at humor had eased those nerves of a moment ago, he tried again. “Then tonight’s when you swore to yourself that you’d clean the oven?”

“Hardly,” Laura told him, and laughed aloud. “Besides the fact that I don’t use the oven enough to get it dirty, it’s self-cleaning.”

“Then take pity on a lonely stranger. Don’t force me to eat alone tonight. Say you’ll have dinner with me.”

She arched her brow. “You may be a stranger to San Francisco, Josh Logan, but somehow I doubt that you’ve ever been lonely a day in your life—unless it’s by choice.”

“Do I hear a compliment in there somewhere?” he asked, not at all surprised by her perception. She was right. There were actually a number of women in San Francisco he could call who would gladly join him for dinner and more. But none of those women were Laura Harte. And none of those women held the key to him regaining the Princess, he reminded himself.

Laura laughed again. “I have no intention of feeding your ego by pointing out your obvious attractions.”

“Which are?”

Laura shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Have dinner with me, anyway,” he said seriously. Because the urge to touch her was so strong, he reached out and curled a strand of her hair around his finger. “I’d really like a chance for us to get to know each other better.”

She took a step back. “I don’t think that’s necessarily a good idea.”

“Why?” When she didn’t answer, he asked, “Is it because of Nick? You think he might object?”

“Nick has nothing to do with it,” she told him.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I just don’t think it’s wise to mix business with pleasure.”

“Then we won’t mix them,” Josh assured her. “Tonight will be strictly pleasure.”

Five

“Is something wrong with your veal?” Laura asked, unnerved by Josh’s steady gaze on her.

“The veal’s excellent.” As though to prove the point he took a bite, but his eyes never wavered from her face.

“Josh, you’re staring,” she accused, hoping the rebuke would diffuse the sexual tension that seemed to have escalated between them in the restaurant’s cozy surroundings.

“I know,” he admitted, and instead of being embarrassed to have been caught, he merely flashed her another of those killer smiles that had her stomach dipping and her heart beating just a little too fast. “I was remembering that old adage about the eyes being the mirror to a person’s soul. Whoever came up with that particular phrase must have had you in mind, Laura Harte. You have the most incredible eyes—so expressive.”

So much for dousing the sensual sparks, Laura thought. His answer and the way he was looking at her—like he was a big cat and she was a tempting bowl of cream—had her already fast pulse racing flat-out. She drew in a deep breath, trying to marshal her reaction to the man. “Thank you.”

He chuckled. “See, that’s what I mean. A moment ago you were all business, and your eyes were an icy blue. But just now when I surprised you and you forgot to be Ms. Hotel Executive, the color of your eyes changed,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky drawl. “Now they’re a smoky blue—like the surf in St. Thomas at dawn.”

“I think one of us has had too much wine,” she said with a nonchalance she was far from feeling.

“Nope.” As if to prove his point, Josh took another sip of the cabernet. “Just making an observation. Surely I’m not the first man to tell you that you have beautiful eyes.”

“No,” she murmured, but she couldn’t remember any other man making her hot all over with just a look. “Thank you.”

He nodded but continued to watch her over the rim of his glass. “I’ve embarrassed you.”

“No, you haven’t.”

He grinned. “That’s not what your eyes tell me. They truly are extraordinary, the most unique color. Just when I think I’ve nailed down the exact shade, they change again. But then, I guess you’ve heard that before, too.”

“Actually, I haven’t, and I suspect you know it,” Laura said, determined not to let him fluster her. “You’re very skilled at this.”

“At what?”