Two to Tangle. Leslie Kelly
you’re a desirable woman, without flaunting it.”
“Well, I guess you know women’s clothes,” she murmured, feeling both embarrassed and at the same time very glad she’d worn the tight black miniskirt and sheer black hose.
“Now, should we introduce ourselves?”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re strangers. Isn’t it time for introductions?”
“Strangers in a bar?” she asked, catching on. This, obviously, was another way to separate themselves from reality—from the fact that they worked together in their everyday lives. That he was her boss, the managing director and part-owner of Langtree’s Department Store, and she a window dresser. They would be strangers. No outside ties. No encumbrances. No expectations. Maybe even no repercussions. “I think I like this idea.”
“My name’s Trent,” he said, as the waitress arrived with their oversize glasses. The woman leaned close to him as she placed their drinks on the table, her stare blatantly admiring. Chloe felt another shiver course through her. She was playing sexual games with this devastatingly attractive man—a man every other woman in the room had eyed at least once since Chloe had sat down with him. The anxiety Chloe had felt early in the evening began to slide away, replaced by something else. Excitement. Titillation. Why the heck not?
“Trent. How nice to meet you. My name’s…Claudia.”
He waited until the waitress walked away again before picking up his drink and raising it in a toast. Chloe lifted her glass as well and waited, expectantly.
“To stormy skies.”
She nodded. “And strangers getting to know one another.”
The first sip of rum punch was enough to convince Chloe she absolutely could not drink more than one. The thing tasted like straight rum, with a little cherry juice thrown in to give the alcohol a pink tinge. “Whew,” she gasped once the burning sensation in her throat had stopped.
“Good?”
“Very. Just potent.” She sipped again, noting the fiery sensation was no less strong the second time. But she was getting used to it. “So, uh, Trent, tell me about yourself.”
He shrugged. “Not much to tell. I work too much. Eat all the wrong foods. Don’t keep in touch with my family the way I should. I live in a beachfront apartment I really can’t afford and have never seen such a wonderful blending of shades in a woman’s hair before tonight.” He reached over and brushed some curls back off her brow, stopping her heart. “Gold, brown, reddish highlights. It has to be natural.”
Whoa…he’s good. She picked up her drink and sipped from it heartily, coughing and choking as the heat hit her belly again.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” she choked out. “Now, uh, what do you do?”
He shrugged. “I own a landscaping business.”
Well, that was stretching the fantasy a bit, in Chloe’s opinion. Then again, it was his fantasy. And she’d already seen Troy Langtree’s sensory attraction for the outdoors. So maybe it really was a deep-rooted wish, one he’d hidden from the world like he’d hidden his killer smile and the amazingly strong arms and chest. Not to mention the charming, flirtatious attitude.
“What about you, Claudia?”
“Hmm,” she mused, playing along, trying to come up with her fantasy life, her deepest desire. What she’d do if she could be doing anything. “I’m a full-time grad student, and freelance graphic artist.” She sighed with pleasure at the fantasy. Imagine, working for herself, only when she felt like being creative, and being able to afford to go to graduate school. Sounded heavenly.
“Any family?”
She contemplated continuing the fantasy, but in the end stuck with the truth, saying, “Yes. A beautiful, brilliant younger sister, Morgan, who’s about to graduate high school. And a wonderfully creative—if a trifle irresponsible—mother who looks like she’s my age. You?”
He nodded. “I have a few family members in this area. My parents retired and moved to Colorado a few years back.”
Chloe sipped her drink, getting used to the strong brew and not choking this time. “No steady girlfriend?” she asked, not wanting to spoil the illusion, but needing to know just the same.
He seemed to sense that her nonchalance hid a keen interest. Reaching across the table, he took her hand. “I haven’t been seriously involved with anyone for over three years. Too busy working. And I hadn’t found the right woman yet.”
“What would she be like?” Chloe asked before she thought better of it.
He didn’t hesitate. “She’d have curly brown hair and amazing blue eyes. She’d love the beach, not be afraid of trying new things, like skydiving and windsurfing.”
Chloe shuddered. “I don’t do heights. High places make me nauseous. I’d feel sorry for whoever jumped out of the plane first and was below me on the way down.”
He laughed softly. “I’ll remember that.”
“So you want an adventurous brunette?”
“Not entirely. Adventurous is nice. But she also has to have an amazing smile.”
He was staring at her lips and she nervously licked them. She saw him pull in a deep breath, something hot and intimate flashing in his eyes. He finally looked away and picked up his drink.
“Anything else?” Chloe asked, feeling confused and yet completely fascinated by the intense heat she’d seen in his expression when he’d stared at her mouth.
He nodded. “Sense of humor is a must.”
Okay, now he was getting someplace. Humor she could do. Chloe loved to laugh. Given the choice between a gushy, oozy chick flick and a bawdy comedy, she’d go for the grins any day. Her comedy movie collection filled several boxes in her closet.
Her mother called her ability to laugh at life, to find joy in anything, her best feature. Chloe had once countered, “Thanks, Mom. Fabulous hair or a great figure would be nice. Heck, even brains! Sense of humor is almost as bad as telling the chubby kid she has ‘such a pretty face.’”
Of course, Sister Mary Frances had called her sense of humor her ticket to a century in purgatory.
“Do you like old comedies? Laurel and Hardy?” Chloe asked.
He shook his head. “I’m more of an Abbott and Costello fan.”
“Me, too. And Mel Brooks?”
“Oh, sure.”
“So we share the same tastes in comedy,” she said with a hopeful look. “Does that let me off the hook for skydiving?”
“Ever tried parasailing?”
“From what I hear,” she replied dryly, “parasailing requires some elevation, too.”
“Okay, I’ll keep you on the ground.”
You can keep me anywhere you want me…as long as you keep me. She took a sip of her drink and thrust the thought aside.
“This is good,” she acknowledged as she sipped the last few mouthfuls of her punch. Funny how she’d begun to enjoy the rich, spicy flavors—probably because the alcohol had burned every taste bud right out of her mouth. But she wasn’t complaining.
“I’m not opposed to seeing you dance on the table…or anywhere else. Would you like another drink?”
“Maybe I’d better have a glass of water,” she said. Okay, score one for Sister Mary Frances.
“Let’s make that two.”
For the next hour, Chloe found herself thoroughly entranced by the man sitting