Her Secret Alibi. Debra Webb
recognition—she was on her way. She was the youngest VP ever. All of which she had accomplished on her own, after her father had retired. Why did this have to happen now? Tears stung behind her closed lids.
The waiter arrived. Jolie snapped her eyes open and managed a strained thank-you as he set her wine before her. She reached for the delicate stemmed glass, but her hand shook so badly that she dropped it back onto her lap beneath the table. She blinked back the tears. She would not cry. She would not fall apart. She was stronger than that…stronger than her mother. She would fix this somehow.
“A beautiful lady should never dine alone.”
Jolie’s head shot up. Her gaze connected instantly with the dark, mesmerizing eyes of the man she had seen in the bank’s lobby earlier that day. For one second she wondered if her mind had somehow conjured him up. No…he was real and somehow familiar. Heat flowed through her, vanquishing the ice-cold dread and panic threatening to choke her.
“May I join you?” he asked in a deep, velvety voice that touched some chord deep inside her.
Who was this man? she wondered briefly, before she found her voice to answer. Why had he been in the bank today? What had he and Mr. Knox been discussing? And why was he here now? The other tangle of troubles flitted through her mind all over again, as well. Missing money…missing hours. Had last night’s disaster started with her talking to some stranger?
Probably.
Jolie firmed her resolve and stared defiantly at the sinfully handsome man. “I hate to injure your pride, sir, but if we’ve met before it proved unmemorable.” Damn it, she fumed. Did she look that easy? She never had before.
A slow smile slid across those firm, full lips, making the man even more handsome, if that was possible, but only adding to her growing frustration. If she had ever seen that smile before she would indeed remember it.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “My name is Simon.” He held out his hand. “And you are?”
Jolie looked from those mesmerizing eyes to his hand and back. His charm proved far too potent to resist. She placed her hand, however hesitantly, in his. Long, tapered fingers closed around hers, and just like earlier today, something passed between them. Heat and something more. Something she couldn’t quite define.
“Jolie Randolph,” she heard herself say.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jolie Randolph.” Before she knew what he intended, he bent slightly and lifted her fingers to his lips. The kiss was nothing more than the faintest brush of his mouth, but the effect was devastating.
He smiled again, this time at her startled expression. It was as if he fully realized the effect he had on her. “As I said, you’re much too beautiful to be sitting here all alone.”
Jolie tugged her fingers free of his. Her skin was on fire where his lips had touched her. This was ridiculous. He was a stranger. The image of the man in the shower this morning flitted through her mind’s eye. The last thing she needed was another stranger in her life! “You should choose another pickup line, Mr….”
“Ruhl,” he told her, his gaze never leaving hers. “Simon Ruhl. And you haven’t answered my question, Miss Randolph.”
Jolie sipped her wine, taking a much-needed break from his intense gaze and pretending to consider his offer. Why was she encouraging him? Flirting, that’s what she was doing. She should simply ignore him so he would leave. “Actually, Mr. Ruhl, I only want a quiet dinner alone.” She allowed her gaze to meet his once more. Lord knew she already had enough trouble. And this man had trouble written all over his amazing face.
His eyes were too knowing and offered a most tempting escape. “You look like a lady who could use someone to talk to, Jolie.”
The way he said her name, the way the French intended, made her tremble. What was it about this man? “Mr. Ruhl—”
“Simon,” he insisted.
She focused on the pale amber liquid in her glass for a time. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very good company.”
Simon sat down across from her. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that,” he said quietly, soothingly.
She should have been incensed that he took such liberty, but instead she looked into those dark eyes and for one moment wanted to believe that this man, this stranger, cared. What the hell? she decided. She had nothing better to do. The thought of going to prison for embezzlement, or worse, skittered through her mind. But not tonight, she decided suddenly. Definitely not tonight. She’d had enough stress for one day. Time to relax and just be. She needed to forget for a little while. Just for tonight.
Tonight she intended to put her troubles out of her head. She was going to chat with Simon. She had every intention of finding out who he was and what business he’d had in her bank today. She smiled at her companion. Why not? It certainly sounded better than sitting here beating herself up for what she couldn’t explain. His answering smile sent her heart into overdrive, immediately short-circuiting whatever her next thought should have been.
Simon gestured to the waiter and ordered a glass of wine for himself, and another for her. “So.” He turned that intense focus fully on her then. “What would make such a pretty lady look so sad?”
Boy, he didn’t beat around the bush. Sad, huh? Jolie supposed it would be impossible to conceal the life-altering events of her day. But she wasn’t about to tell him her personal business. Besides, she was supposed to be getting her mind off that subject.
“Bad day at the office,” she hedged as she fingered the stem of her glass. “Speaking of which…” her gaze moved back to his “…do you come to my bank often?”
“I never mix business with pleasure,” he answered, doing a little hedging of his own. Then he closed his hand around hers, effectively stilling her restless fingers and completely derailing her thoughts. “And I’m a good listener, Jolie.”
The words startled her for a moment, but the desperation twisting inside her made her weak. She wanted to believe the sincerity in those beautiful brown eyes more than she had ever wanted to believe anything in her entire life. What did that make her?
Reckless? Maybe. Definitely desperate.
“Tell me, Simon,” she said suddenly, not taking the time to analyze what she was going to say, “Do you think we become our parents?” Regret and fear rocketed inside her. She had loved her mother; how could she want to banish her memory? But she did. Jolie wanted to pretend it all away. To act as if it had never happened.
Something resembling concern flickered in his penetrating gaze. “No,” he said emphatically.
“No?” Jolie studied his handsome face for some hint of what he might be thinking. It was as if he knew what she wanted to hear, but how could he?
“Absolutely not,” he said resolutely. “We’re all unique. There’s no one else in the whole world like you, Jolie.” He tasted his wine. “No one,” he added softly. His thumb caressed her hand in a most distracting manner.
She stiffened her spine against the delightful shivers he inspired, and drew her hand away. “You don’t believe in the sins of the father—or mother—and all that jazz?”
He shook his head slowly. “We choose our own path. Nothing is preordained.”
Jolie lifted her glass to her lips, her hand feeling suddenly cold without his warm touch. She drank deeply, then smiled at the man watching her so very intently.
“I hope you’re right, Simon.” She licked her bottom lip, then chewed it thoughtfully for a second or two. “I really hope you’re right.”
“Tell me about you,” he insisted, the words laced with silky charm. “Why don’t you tell me everything about Jolie Randolph?”
Now there was a lethal question. He couldn’t possibly know that he’d just