in a quick, impatient breath. “And that’s what’s the matter with you,” she threw back. “You’re too blasé about it. You take everything for granted. Do you realize how many people there are in the world who never leave their hometowns at all? There must be millions who’ve never been inside an airplane!”
“I had lots of leg room,” she countered, “and the food was delicious. People were nice...”
“God deliver me,” he groaned. “I invited you here for a meal, not a sermon.”
“No wonder you spend so much time alone,” she grumbled as the food was placed before them—her clams and his lobster thermidor. She paused to smile at the waitress and thank her, something he neglected to do, before she launched into him again. “You don’t like people, do you?” she asked frankly.
His eyes went cold. “No,” he replied.
Her wide-spaced emerald eyes searched his across the table. “We’re all alike, you know. Lonely, afraid, nervous, uncertain...”
“I am not afraid,” he ground out. “I have never been nervous. And I didn’t get where I am today by being uncertain.”
“If you were less hostile,” she argued, pausing to chew a mouthful of fresh fried clam and murmur how delicious it was, “people might like you more.”
“I don’t need to be liked.” He sampled his lobster and grimaced. “I swear to God, this lobster would bounce if I threw it on the floor.”
“Back home, people are eating hog jowl and corn bread, and you’re complaining about lobster.” She sighed.
He blinked, his fork suspended in midair. “Hog jowl?” he mumbled.
“Jowl of hog,” she told him. “Fat. What poor people have to eat because they can’t afford lobster.”
He narrowed one eye. “Have you ever eaten them?”
Her face tautened. She lifted another forkful of clams to her mouth. “These really are delicious,” she commented.
“And an appropriate dish,” he observed, waiting for her to get the point.
She shrugged. “I’ve been poor,” she admitted. “I don’t like remembering it, and I don’t like talking about it.”
“You intrigue me,” he said over his black coffee. His dark hands curled around the cup, and she noticed a sprinkling of thick, dark hairs on the backs of them—the same hair that peeked out of his open-throated white shirt under the blue blazer. He had a faintly sensuous quality about him, or seemed to. But she doubted if he knew a lot about women. He was as cold as a chilled wineglass, hardly a ladies’ man with that rigidity and lack of charm. He seemed to be a lonely man...
“Are you here by yourself?” she asked suddenly.
“Yes,” he said curtly.
She studied the tablecloth. “Married?”
He went absolutely rigid in the chair, his eyes cutting. “Widowed.”
“Sorry.” She added more cream to her coffee and picked at her French fries. “Well, I’ve got to get back to my room. It’s getting dark.”
He stared at her blankly. “Do you change into a statue without sunlight?” he murmured.
“Oh, it’s not that,” she assured him, wiping her mouth with the napkin and throwing down the rest of her coffee. “It’s just that I don’t like going out at night alone. Too dangerous. Sharks. Man-eating hibiscus. Leering palm trees.” She shuddered delicately. Her dancing eyes met his as she gathered her shawl around her and picked up her check. “Thanks for the company. See you around.”
“Have you seen the cruise ships by night?” he asked suddenly.
She shook her head wistfully. “They light up, don’t they?”
“There’s a nice view from the beach. I’ll walk out with you, if you like.” He stood up, towering over her, and before she could move, he grabbed her check out of her hand and walked away to the cashier.
“You can’t...” she protested behind him.
But he had his wallet out and the check paid before she could finish the sentence. He held the door open for her and followed her outside.
“And that’s why I like Southern women,” he murmured.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Before you can say don’t, I already have,” he murmured with a laughing sideways glance. “Slow drawls can be a distinct advantage.”
She laughed lightly. “Well, thank you for my sup, anyway.”
“You were worth it,” he replied.
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to him, with her short, dark hair whipping around her pixie face. “I...I think there’s something we should get straight.”
He seemed to take the thought out of her mouth. “I’ve got all the women I need,” he replied blandly. “Of course, if there are ever any openings, I’ll keep