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There was something going on between the two of them, and whatever it was held a bit of a promise, at least for the here and now.
If Shane hadn’t already agreed, albeit reluctantly, that he’d make a showing at little Billy’s birthday party, he might flash her a smile and come up with some clever way to strike up a conversation—something that didn’t sound like a worn-out pickup line.
As it was, he’d better leave well enough alone. He was more cowboy than cop these days, and she didn’t seem to be the kind of woman who would find either very appealing.
Still, he continued to glance across the room for what he swore would be the very last time.
She wore a lonely expression on that pretty, heart-shaped face. Her frown and the crease in her brow suggested she carried a few burdens herself.
Was she running from her own demons, too?
Or was she just thinking about another lonely Friday night?
Before he could even attempt his best guess, a guy seated near her table got to his feet, swaying a bit before starting toward her.
Shane’s protective nature sparked, and he sat upright in his seat, listening as the guy spoke loud enough for the whole room to hear.
“Hey, come on, honey. Don’t you want some company?”
The blonde stiffened and said something to the guy. Shane couldn’t hear her words, but he suspected they’d been something short and to the point.
On the other hand, her body language spoke volumes, and only an idiot—or a drunk—would ignore it.
Sure enough, the snockered fool pulled out the chair next to hers and took a seat, clearly ignoring her verbal response, as well as all the outward signs of her disinterest.
Shane expected her to put the jerk in his place, but she looked to the right and left, as if searching for the waiter. What she needed was a bouncer, although Shane doubted a place like El Jardin had to use the services of one very often.
Did he dare try to come to her rescue?
Oh, what the hell.
He got to his feet, grabbed his hat—leaving his beer behind—and sauntered to the pretty blonde’s table, determined not to make a scene.
“Hi, honey,” he said. “I’m sorry I was late. Did you have to wait long?”
“I…uh…” She searched his eyes as if trying to figure out what he was doing, where he was going.
He reached out his hand to her, and she studied it for a moment, not understanding what he was trying to do—and that was to avoid causing a scene that was sure to draw unnecessary attention to her. But she seemed to catch on, because she took his hand and allowed him to draw her to her feet.
“I didn’t think my meeting would take so long,” he said.
“I understand. I knew you’d come as soon as you could get away.”
Shane brushed a kiss on her cheek, then turned to the drunk. “Excuse me, but that’s my seat.”
“I…” The drunk furrowed his brow, then got to his feet. “Well, hell. She should’ve said something.”
Shane narrowed his eyes. “She did. But maybe you didn’t hear her.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t leave a woman like her waiting. It makes people think she’s free for the taking.”
Shane’s right hand itched to make a fist, but the guy wasn’t going to remember any of this tomorrow. And El Jardin wasn’t the kind of place that lent itself to barroom brawls.
“Speaking of free for the taking,” Shane said, “I’m going to give you some good advice.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s time to call it a day.”
As the waiter who’d been working this side of the bar approached, he asked the blonde, “Is there a problem here?”
She looked at Shane, who nodded at the drunk. “This gentleman is going to need a cab.”
Within seconds, the manager of the bar entered the picture, and the drunken businessman was escorted away.
“Thank you,” the blonde told Shane. “I wasn’t sure what to do about him without making a scene.”
“No problem.”
“They should have quit serving him a long time ago,” she added.
“You’re right. And your waiter is getting an earful from his boss as we speak.”
“What makes you say that?”
“By the look the manager shot at him when he realized how drunk that guy was.”
“I didn’t notice that.”
He shrugged. “I’m observant by nature.”
“Well, I’m glad you stepped in when you did.”
“Me, too.”
Now what? he wondered.
Well, he’d gone this far, so why not?
He glanced at the empty chair across from her. “Is that seat taken?”
It was a lame line, he supposed, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment.
“No, it’s not. Would you like to join me?”
Well, how about that? He’d made it to first base. Before pulling out the chair, he extended his hand in greeting. “My name is Shane Hollister.”
“Jillian Wilkes.” As their palms met and her fingers slipped around his, a warm thrill shimmied up his arm and sent his senses reeling.
He had to force himself to release her hand, and as he did so, they each took a seat.
As much as he hated pickup lines and all the small talk that went into meeting someone for the first time, he realized there wasn’t any way around it.
“So what brings you to El Jardin?” he asked.
“I came for a glass of champagne.” She smiled, as though that made perfect sense, but the detective who still lived somewhere deep within found that hard to believe.
She must have read the question in his gaze, because her demeanor grew shy and uneasy.
Why? he wondered, more curious about her than ever. What was her story? Why would a woman like her be in a sophisticated bar all by herself?
Shane glanced at the nearly full bottle. “Are you celebrating a birthday or something?”
“Actually, yes. My divorce is final today.”
He nodded, as though that was a perfectly good reason to drink alone. Heck, he’d downed nearly a bottle of whiskey after his.
Jillian didn’t appear to be tying one on, though. He hadn’t seen her take more than an occasional sip. It must be some kind of mock celebration, which suggested the breakup hadn’t been her idea.
If not, what kind of man let a woman like her slip through his fingers? Or was there more to Jillian Wilkes than just a pretty face and graceful style?
Was she a spendthrift? Or someone who didn’t appreciate a man’s family or his job?
Shane could relate to that, but he wasn’t planning to talk about his past, let alone think about it. So he turned the conversation back to her. “How long were you married?”
“Nearly eight years.”
“Kids?”
A shadow darkened those sea-blue eyes. “No.”
Had they split for that reason? Some people wanted children; others didn’t.
He regretted his curiosity, yet couldn’t shake the raging interest. “Something tells me you’re only putting on a happy face.”
She twisted a silky strand of hair in a nervous fashion. “I’ll be okay. Really. And to be honest, I’m looking forward to the changes my new life will bring.”
“Was the divorce your idea?” Shane didn’t know why it mattered. But it did.
“I had higher expectations from the marriage than he did.” She shrugged, then said, “I believe that promises should be kept, that marriages are meant to last and that people in love need to honor and protect each other from heartbreak, not dish it out.”
The guy must have screwed around on her. If so, he was a fool. Or so it seemed. “He left you for someone else?”
“A lot of somebodies.” She lifted her glass, took a sip.
He watched the movements in her throat as she swallowed, amazed at how something so simple, so basic, could practically mesmerize him and send his blood humming through his veins.
She leaned forward. “And what about you, Shane?”
What about him?
He wasn’t about to spill his guts. Still, her self-disclosure was a little refreshing, and he found himself admitting, “I was married, but not anymore.”
“Do you mind if I ask why not?”
Yeah, he minded. He’d rather keep things focused on her and on why she was here. On the soft sound of her voice, the stunning blue of her eyes, the graceful way she sat before a glass of champagne and hardly took a drink.
But he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to be honest.
“My ex-wife didn’t like my job,” he admitted.
She’d also resented his family. But he kept part of the equation to himself.
“What do you do for a living?” Jillian asked.
He hesitated before answering. “I’m a ranch hand on a little spread about two hours from here. But when I was married, I had a job that kept me away from home a lot.”
He’d also had a competent—and beautiful—female partner who’d managed to gain the respect of the entire precinct, and a wife who’d been jealous of the time they’d spent together, even though it had always been work-related. But there really wasn’t any reason to go into that.
“My husband,” she began, “or rather, my ex- husband, traveled on business, too. But I hadn’t bargained on his infidelity while he was on the road, and I refused to forgive him for it.”
Something in her eyes, in the gentle tone of her voice, convinced him she was being honest.
Again, his conscience rose up, suggesting he unload his whole story on her. But what was the use? He knew nothing would amount from this…whatever this was. A mere conversation, he supposed. A pleasant diversion for two battered ships passing on a lonely night.
It was too early to predict anything more. And with him living and working two hours away in Brighton Valley… Well, there wasn’t much chance of this becoming anything else.
She leaned forward. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, go ahead.” But Shane couldn’t guarantee an answer.
“Do all men cheat?” Those brilliant tropical-blue eyes nailed him to the back of his seat. “Did you?”
The raw emotion bursting from her question—both of them, actually—took him aback, but he was glad he could be open and honest with her, at least about that. “I suppose a lot of men are tempted, and some give in to it. But I didn’t.”
He’d been brought up in the church and had been an altar boy, which didn’t necessarily mean anything. But more important, his parents had been happily married for nearly forty years. Divorce had never seemed like an option to him. And neither had lying to or cheating on a spouse.
“I’m glad to hear that.” She slid him a pretty, relief-filled smile, as if he were some kind of hero.
A man could get used to having a woman look at him like that. And while Shane had never really thought of himself as particularly heroic, even when he’d been one of Houston’s finest, it was nice to be appreciated for the values he did have.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to join me for dinner,” she said.
Her suggestion, which was more than a little tempting, knocked him off kilter, especially since he had other plans.
He didn’t need to look at his watch again to know that it was time for him to head across town to Jack’s house for that party. Nor did it take much for him to envision a houseful of kids on sugar highs.
But that kind of scene didn’t bother him too much. What really got to him, what shook him to the core, was the sight of an infant nursing at its mother’s breast or a toddler bouncing on daddy’s knee.
