Chapter 2

"I can't take the suspense another second. I have to know what it is you're selling. Whatever it is, put me down for nine of them, tonight, right now. Sign me up."

It was a voice Kate had never heard before, one that skimmed across her shoulder and landed in her ear with a titillating thud, its arrival, while uninvited, as savory a jolt her senses had met with in a long while.

Slowly she pivoted her head, and with the move nearly brushed the man's cheek with her own. That was how close to hers the body that belonged to the rich, unhurried voice in her ear was standing.

"Selling?" Kate responded with warranted confusion, inching backward in necessary retreat; necessary for her because the interloper made no overture to grant even a hint of space. No, he seemed well comfortable holding his line of invasion, in wearing her discomfort like a medal, as was evidenced by the smirk that took over his face.

"The business cards. I've seen you hand them to a couple of people. What's printed below your name? Vacuums, Tupperware? Bibles? If the answer's what I hope it is, I might be willing to tick up my order by a few, especially if you're the one who also makes the deliveries."

He fired a smile from his eyes while Kate labored to stifle one.

"Carpets are that dirty, huh?" she returned like a tennis pro volleying at the net, the playfulness in her tone far removed from that of her usual course: to do away with buzzing gnats at the bar simply and swiftly. She'd had a lot of practice at it. She'd been buzzed by many, many gnats.

"Dammit," the stranger sighed, and let his chin drop in theatrical fashion. "It's not bibles? And here it would've been perfect timing. I just finished reading the book on my nightstand."

"Dr. Seuss?"

"It's scary how well you already know me."

For the first time then their eyes met, truly met, and they lingered together in the new, whatever the new was. Something.

"So, what's your name? And don't just hand me one of those cards. I like your voice. Tell me."

As if she'd fallen overboard and it was a safety rope she'd been tossed, Kate clenched the stem of her wine glass, brought it to her lips. "You're nosy," she accused around a sip.

"I'm curious. There's a difference." He leaned in ever so slightly, tasted her with a gaze that quickly traded amusement for desire and did so without apology. "And you're spectacular." Extending his hand, he waited for Kate to reciprocate, and then waited some more until finally she relented. "I'll go first, show you how easy it is. My name's Rick."

"Kate," she said and read how pleased he continued to be with himself, as though her sharing had perpetuated some winning streak that he imagined he was riding.

Rick flipped up his wrist and peeked at his watch, his other hand still one with hers. "Well, Kate, seller of vacuums, it's too early to ask you to marry me, but if you'd agree to come sit with me and have a drink, we can kill some time. Would you?"

His flavor of rich and unhurried must've held some irresistible key to her lock because Kate found herself standing even before she consciously made the decision.

"One," she insisted after smoothing the fold in her skirt, the boundary set more as a safeguard than a stipulation. Whatever it was he'd set off inside her, the trust she held in her own restraint was already walking a thin line.

"One bottle? Absolutely, I promise." He pointed out a table across the way. "We're over there. Please, after you."

The sheer black chiffon of Kate's blouse was all that stood between his hand and her skin as he guided her toward the table, and the mere whisper of his touch had a trail of goosebumps dancing up and down her spine. It was everything she'd never felt before, come alive with a roar. It was the craving she'd introduced to so many others yet hadn't herself met.

Rick pulled out a chair for her and then slid back into the seat he'd been occupying, beckoned one of the staff stationed nearby with a flick of his chin. The young man jumped to attention and arrived in a blink, gathered his instructions, and with a "Thanks, Mikey" scooted off again.

"Are you a regular here or something? Is this, like, your table?" Kate asked with a note of mockery as he angled back into a cradle of claret leather and hoisted an arm up along its rim. His ego fit him as cleanly as his suit, and she thought he wore every inch of both. "Didn't your mother ever teach you it isn't polite to stare?" she went on when his attention flustered her too much to help it.

"You've obviously never met my mother," he quipped, "and how does anyone not stare? You're all there is."

Kate had no idea when or how, but a bottle had arrived at the table because suddenly she was watching him pour from it. Thanking him more for the distraction than for the wine itself, she tasted, and it was heavenly.

"So?"

"So, expensive suit, expensive wine," she offered in place of the review she understood he sought. "What is it you do, Rick?"

"Ah, so, she's curious, too. I like that." He pushed his fingers through his hair, and she watched as if it were happening in slow motion, like one of those fantasy sequences in some awful movie. "If you were to ask my ex-wife, I'm sure she'd tell you I don't do much. I truly am underappreciated in my time," he commented around his first sip. "Oh, now that's good."

"You were married?"

"You seem very surprised." His eyes found hers again. "I don't know if I should be offended or applaud your keen insight. I was pretty surprised myself, actually. Both times. Not as much by the divorces. What about you? I spy no ring on that lovely finger of yours. Ever been?"

"No," Kate answered brusquely and pushed straight on. "You've been married twice?" Melting into the back of her chair, she let the revelation marinate a beat or two. "Not the best advertisement," she muttered beneath an arched brow, sounding a tad miffed by it all.

Rick set down his glass and freed himself of his suit jacket, rolled the cuffs of his shirt.

"Don't worry, I saved most of my really good stuff for you, and to answer both of your questions, yes, this is my table. They all are. I own this place. Well, technically, my aforementioned ex and I own this place, though most of her piece of the pie comes out of my wallet, unfortunately. I'd introduce you but she already took off for the night. Plus, I don't really want to. Is this your first time?"

Kate briefly scanned the room, drank in its tones and textures, and somehow, she felt she recognized him in all of it despite his being only minutes new to her world, which knocked her even more out of balance. No, it wasn't her first time there, but it was her first time experiencing the sort of reaction to a man that he'd ignited in her.

"I've been here before," she told him in superficial truth. "I like it because it's never that busy. I can have a conversation with a client and actually hear myself think."

"I love my vacuum salespeople with a sense of humor. Yours definitely doesn't suck."

She couldn't help but laugh, and he basked in it.

"Honestly, how does anyone not stare?" Rick remarked again.

Kate drew her eyes up from her glass and found the oceans that were his locked on her, penetrating to the point of intrusion on a reverie she wasn't even remotely prepared to disclose or to explain.

"You need to stop, okay? The comments, the looks. We've barely known each other twenty minutes. It's…too much."

She was liking it too much was the reality of it, and that sent her right into defensive mode.

"I'm sorry," Rick said and meant it-mostly. "How about we start over." Again, he reached out his hand. "I'm Rick. I own this restaurant. If there's anything I can do to make your night more pleasurable, I hope you'll let me know."

She narrowed her eyes at him, studied his hand like she suspected hers might be buzzed by some hidden prank toy in the joining. That didn't stop her from indulging, however.

"Kate," she replied, playing along, "and I don't sell vacuum cleaners for a living."

"I'm glad you finally came clean," he joked. "Okay, so no vacuums. How many guesses do I get?" Hesitatingly, he relinquished his grip, and she tucked her hand away. "Come on. Relax, drink your wine. This'll be fun. If I don't guess right, I'll even pay for it."

"It's shocking two wives have kicked such a gentleman to the curb," Kate needled, uncrossing one leg for the other.

"Excuse me, I'll have you know that I kicked one of those wives. Hang on, that didn't come out right. Anyway, three guesses, is it?"

Kate shrugged in acquiescence, and Rick rubbed his palms together in delight. It seemed their ideas of fun didn't exactly sync.

He gave her a once-over, resisting the urge to pause in wonderment of her every inch. "I'm ruling out model right off the bat. God knows you're beautiful, but attention isn't easy for you." He folded his fingers together. "See? You looked away. Not easy at all."

"Are we done with this game yet?" she said and promptly hid in her glass.

"Oh, no, we're just getting started." He tapped at his chin with a single finger. "Okay, maybe you're a journalist or a reporter on the trail of some big scoop, trying to gather up puzzle pieces from reluctant sources. I bet people find it easy to talk to you. You seem like you have a very fine…vocabulary."

Kate peered over the rim. "That's one," she noted with the coolness of a presumed victor.

"Or maybe you're some kind of secret agent." Rick's eyes grew wide with hope. "Yeah, maybe you're here on a mission to free us from the clutches of evil, and those cards you hand out are part of your cover to keep your true identity hidden. In fact, is your name really even Kate?"

"If it weren't, do you think I'd tell you? And exactly how many cheesy mystery novels do you have piled up next to your Dr. Seuss? 'Clutches of evil'? Seriously?" She exhaled a chuckle when his thrill visibly wilted. "That's number two. Thank god."

He casually angled forward, leaned his weight against the table, while out of view, his leg bounced up and down with the excited energy of his impending triumph, one his opponent clearly didn't foresee.

"You seem pretty confident, maybe-Kate. I wonder how confident. Enough to maybe raise the stakes?"

There wasn't any way in hell it wasn't in the bag, Kate thought. Her odds couldn't have been better, or his worse, and though the level of glee she was about to take in his defeat was already bordering on embarrassing for any adult with a respectable level of maturity, she bit.

"Raise what stakes how?" Her mind flooded with thoughts equally naughty and nice.

Rick abruptly stood up, whispered "Hold that thought" into her ear, and wandered off out of sight, returning in short order with one of the restaurant's server books in hand, which he placed on the table in front of her. "Don't open that yet," he instructed and sat back down, "but you might want what's inside in a minute."

"What is it?"

"I'm two guesses down and I have one to go. Think about it. You and I are two people who've never met before tonight. I don't know you. You don't know me. If I get this right, it would be an incredible feat."

"Yeah, I'm sure they'll build a statue of you in the town square."

With a grin, he reached over and flipped open the booklet. Inside was a single wrapped breath mint and nothing more.

"I don't get it. What am I-"

"I should win a prize worthy of the accomplishment is what I'm saying. That prize is one kiss," he announced as Kate stared at the pinwheel of red and white sugar, attempting to mask without expression what was no longer confusion but a torrent of adrenaline. "So then, tell me, just how sure are you?"

When she looked up, she did so positively brimming with surety.

"What do I get when you're wrong? I mean besides the obvious delight in watching your ego deflate like a kid's party balloon."

"Two kisses," he wisecracked and earned a dubious smile.

"This," she said, raising her glass. "How many bottles of this do you have in this place? I want them all, and then some."

"I'll buy you the whole vineyard," Rick beamed, and then crunched down giddily on the mint he had hidden between his teeth.