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Authors: Carrie Alexander
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alone.” After dinner the night before, she’d gone back to the condo and watched a movie on the flat-screen TV.
Cripes. She might as well have stayed home.
“Fred and I can take you. No vacation is complete until you’ve seen this guy doing the electric slide in silver disco pants.”
Alice stayed to the finish, enjoying the camaraderie even though she did no more than hand Rivka flowers and help transfer the elaborate creation to a cart they rolled to a walk-in refrigerator.
Once they’d cleaned up, Fred volunteered to escort Alice to her condo. By that time they were all dulled by exhaustion. The main restaurant kitchen had shut down hours before.
Rivka gave Alice a big hug. “I’d hire you anytime.”
She left through the employees’ back entrance while Fred and Alice went out the front, walking through the dark rooms of the restaurant to a hallway and finally into the lobby, which was quiet except for a man at the front desk in bleached shorts, cross-trainers and a raggedy-edged sweatshirt.
Alice’s eyes were drawn to him. For one second she thought he was Denver. The crazy notion that the cowboy had been so enraptured by her that he was trying to find out her room number passed through her head. At the same time, she knew that was absurd. She wasn’t the enrapturing type. She was the ordinary girl-next-door who never said no to a favor. For all her grand resolutions for this vacation, it was most likely she’d end up marrying a nice guy from home. Maybe a fellow schoolteacher. A science or history geek, someone serious and comfortably dull.
Not a cowboy.
Definitely not a corporate executive.
The man at the desk turned and said, “Alice,” with alarming intensity.
Fred’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Oh, hell.”
Alice’s toes and fingers went numb, as if her blood had pooled elsewhere. In her hot cheeks, for instance. Her swimming brain. The thought slipped by that she’d been too quick to sell herself short—again.
“Good evening, Mr. Jarreau,” she croaked.
He raked a hand through his hair. Gathered himself as his expression became more guarded. “Miss Potter.” A beat. “Good morning. What are you doing here?” He looked at Fred.
Glared, really.
“Dancing,” Alice blurted, even though she rarely lied.
“Dancing,” Kyle repeated, clearly skeptical.
“Fred and Rivka invited me to…uh…the nightclub.”
“Which one?”
Did that mean there were two of them? Alice had no idea.
“Hoodoo,” Fred answered, recovering his wits.
She nodded as if that made sense. From her travel reading, she knew that a hoodoo was a rock pillar, but apparently it was a nightclub, too.
Kyle was not convinced. “Enjoy it?”
“Immensely.” Alice was strangely recharged by the confrontation with Kyle. She wanted to show him. Show him what, she didn’t know.
“But I’m done in,” she said. “I need to get home.”
Kyle stepped in, smoothly cutting out Fred. “I’ll take her. You must have hours of work to do on that cake.” He raised a wicked eyebrow. “Seeing that you chose to go dancing first. With a guest of the hotel, no less. Have you forgotten the hotel’s policy against fraternization?”
“They only did it to be nice to me,” Alice declared,realizing she’d gotten the pastry chefs into trouble, not out of it.
“Won’t happen again, sir,” Fred said with a caustic tone, adding a “See ya, kid,” for Alice while moving at a clip back the way they’d come.
Kyle watched the other man leave. “Funny how you two came from the direction of the kitchens, not the club.”
Alice met his eyes. “Yes, funny.”
He frowned.
She said no more on the subject and neither did he, other than giving her a hard measuring look as he held open the front door for her. They descended the stone steps and walked past the large fountain, a Moorish star design lined with colorful Mexican tiles. She wanted to stop and dunk her head in the splashing water, but he’d probably disapprove
Cripes. She might as well have stayed home.
“Fred and I can take you. No vacation is complete until you’ve seen this guy doing the electric slide in silver disco pants.”
Alice stayed to the finish, enjoying the camaraderie even though she did no more than hand Rivka flowers and help transfer the elaborate creation to a cart they rolled to a walk-in refrigerator.
Once they’d cleaned up, Fred volunteered to escort Alice to her condo. By that time they were all dulled by exhaustion. The main restaurant kitchen had shut down hours before.
Rivka gave Alice a big hug. “I’d hire you anytime.”
She left through the employees’ back entrance while Fred and Alice went out the front, walking through the dark rooms of the restaurant to a hallway and finally into the lobby, which was quiet except for a man at the front desk in bleached shorts, cross-trainers and a raggedy-edged sweatshirt.
Alice’s eyes were drawn to him. For one second she thought he was Denver. The crazy notion that the cowboy had been so enraptured by her that he was trying to find out her room number passed through her head. At the same time, she knew that was absurd. She wasn’t the enrapturing type. She was the ordinary girl-next-door who never said no to a favor. For all her grand resolutions for this vacation, it was most likely she’d end up marrying a nice guy from home. Maybe a fellow schoolteacher. A science or history geek, someone serious and comfortably dull.
Not a cowboy.
Definitely not a corporate executive.
The man at the desk turned and said, “Alice,” with alarming intensity.
Fred’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Oh, hell.”
Alice’s toes and fingers went numb, as if her blood had pooled elsewhere. In her hot cheeks, for instance. Her swimming brain. The thought slipped by that she’d been too quick to sell herself short—again.
“Good evening, Mr. Jarreau,” she croaked.
He raked a hand through his hair. Gathered himself as his expression became more guarded. “Miss Potter.” A beat. “Good morning. What are you doing here?” He looked at Fred.
Glared, really.
“Dancing,” Alice blurted, even though she rarely lied.
“Dancing,” Kyle repeated, clearly skeptical.
“Fred and Rivka invited me to…uh…the nightclub.”
“Which one?”
Did that mean there were two of them? Alice had no idea.
“Hoodoo,” Fred answered, recovering his wits.
She nodded as if that made sense. From her travel reading, she knew that a hoodoo was a rock pillar, but apparently it was a nightclub, too.
Kyle was not convinced. “Enjoy it?”
“Immensely.” Alice was strangely recharged by the confrontation with Kyle. She wanted to show him. Show him what, she didn’t know.
“But I’m done in,” she said. “I need to get home.”
Kyle stepped in, smoothly cutting out Fred. “I’ll take her. You must have hours of work to do on that cake.” He raised a wicked eyebrow. “Seeing that you chose to go dancing first. With a guest of the hotel, no less. Have you forgotten the hotel’s policy against fraternization?”
“They only did it to be nice to me,” Alice declared,realizing she’d gotten the pastry chefs into trouble, not out of it.
“Won’t happen again, sir,” Fred said with a caustic tone, adding a “See ya, kid,” for Alice while moving at a clip back the way they’d come.
Kyle watched the other man leave. “Funny how you two came from the direction of the kitchens, not the club.”
Alice met his eyes. “Yes, funny.”
He frowned.
She said no more on the subject and neither did he, other than giving her a hard measuring look as he held open the front door for her. They descended the stone steps and walked past the large fountain, a Moorish star design lined with colorful Mexican tiles. She wanted to stop and dunk her head in the splashing water, but he’d probably disapprove
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