From Pride...
They wanted him. All of them. He knew it.
And he loved it.
Kane Geary had developed many gifts in his eighteen years of life, not least of which was a finely tuned radar for the appreciative stares of beautiful women. And tonight, he could feel their eyes on him, their gazes drawn to him from all over the restaurant. The luscious redhead in the back booth, stealing glances over her date’s sloping shoulders; the trim blonde waiting for the bathroom, zeroing in on his chiseled pecs; their perky waitress, shamelessly grazing his shoulder as she leaned across him to lay out their food—even the age-weathered brunette up in front was joining in the fun, catching his eye with a wink every time her balding husband’s back was turned.
Seated on the edge of Chez Jacques’s spacious dining room, which bustled with the well-bridled enthusiasm of a small-town Saturday night, Kane was, quite simply, the center of attention. Which was exactly how he liked it.
Not that Kane was an attention-grabber, one of those tedious people who talked too much, too fast, too loudly. That would be too obvious. And far too much work. Instead, he waited, knowing that his smoldering good looks and effortless grace would eventually and inevitably draw the world to him. Or, more specifically, draw the girls.
They came in all shapes, colors, and sizes, and they wanted only one thing: him. Which meant that Kane could take his pick. And he usually did.
This time, he thought, smiling at the blond beauty sitting across the table from him, I may be onto something. Beth Manning seemed to have it all: brains, personality, body by Barbie . . . and, as of two months ago, she had him.
She perched primly on the edge of her seat, her hand on his, his foot grazing her leg beneath the table. Gazing at him with those open, grateful eyes—as if a dinner at Chez Jacques, the overpriced “French bistro” whose chef and menu were about as French as McDonald’s French fries, was proof of his boundless love. Yes, it was “the best restaurant in town” —but when your town was a dusty assortment of liquor stores and burned-out buildings like Grace, California, and when most local cuisine tasted as if a handful of desert dirt and cacti had been tossed in for “local flavor,” best restaurant in town wasn’t saying much. Not that Beth seemed to realize it. Kane supposed that a lifetime in Grace—or perhaps a year with Adam—had duller her expectations. Or at least her tastebuds.
She’d temporarily dispensed with her daily uniform, a bland T-shirt and jeans, and was instead wearing a low-cut satin dress, a pale sky blue that matched her eyes. With her long, blond hair swept into a loose knot at the nape of her neck and the long, silver earrings he’d given her swaying gently with her every graceful move, she looked like a model. Gorgeous, elegant—perfect. And should he expect any less?
Kane could see the question in the envious gazes of his female admirers: What does she have that I don’t?
One thing, ladies, he responded silently, suppressing a smile. For the moment—me.
“What are you thinking?” she asked him, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.
“I’m just thinking how beautiful you look tonight,” Kane told her—a half-truth being the best kind of lie. “I’m thinking how incredibly lucky I am to have ended up with someone like you.”
Beth giggled, her face turning a faint shade of pink. “I’m the lucky one, Kane,” she protested.
He couldn’t argue with that. |
