“They should have quit serving him a long time ago,” she added.
“You’re right. And your waiter is getting an earful from his boss as we speak.”
“What makes you say that?”
“By the look the manager shot at him when he realized how drunk that guy was.”
“I didn’t notice that.”
He shrugged. “I’m observant by nature.”
“Well, I’m glad you stepped in when you did.”
“Me, too.”
Now what? he wondered.
Well, he’d gone this far, so why not?
He glanced at the empty chair across from her. “Is that seat taken?”
It was a lame line, he supposed, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment.
“No, it’s not. Would you like to join me?”
Well, how about that? He’d made it to first base. Before pulling out the chair, he extended his hand in greeting. “My name is Shane Hollister.”
“Jillian Wilkes.” As their palms met and her fingers slipped around his, a warm thrill shimmied up his arm and sent his senses reeling.
He had to force himself to release her hand, and as he did so, they each took a seat.
As much as he hated pickup lines and all the small talk that went into meeting someone for the first time, he realized there wasn’t any way around it.
“So what brings you to El Jardin?” he asked.
“I came for a glass of champagne.” She smiled, as though that made perfect sense, but the detective who still lived somewhere deep within found that hard to believe.
She must have read the question in his gaze, because her demeanor grew shy and uneasy.
Why? he wondered, more curious about her than ever. What was her story? Why would a woman like her be in a sophisticated bar all by herself?
Shane glanced at the nearly full bottle. “Are you celebrating a birthday or something?”
“Actually, yes. My divorce is final today.”
He nodded, as though that was a perfectly good reason to drink alone. Heck, he’d downed nearly a bottle of whiskey after his.
Jillian didn’t appear to be tying one on, though. He hadn’t seen her take more than an occasional sip. It must be some kind of mock celebration, which suggested the breakup hadn’t been her idea.
If not, what kind of man let a woman like her slip through his fingers? Or was there more to Jillian Wilkes than just a pretty face and graceful style?
Was she a spendthrift? Or someone who didn’t appreciate a man’s family or his job?
Shane could relate to that, but he wasn’t planning to talk about his past, let alone think about it. So he turned the conversation back to her. “How long were you married?”
“Nearly eight years.”
“Kids?”
A shadow darkened those sea-blue eyes. “No.”
Had they split for that reason? Some people wanted children; others didn’t.
He regretted his curiosity, yet couldn’t shake the raging interest. “Something tells me you’re only putting on a happy face.”
She twisted a silky strand of hair in a nervous fashion. “I’ll be okay. Really. And to be honest, I’m looking forward to the changes my new life will bring.”
“Was the divorce your idea?” Shane didn’t know why it mattered. But it did.
“I had higher expectations from the marriage than he did.” She shrugged, then said, “I believe that promises should be kept, that marriages are meant to last and that people in love need to honor and protect each other from heartbreak, not dish it out.”
The guy must have screwed around on her. If so, he was a fool. Or so it seemed. “He left you for someone else?”
“A lot of somebodies.” She lifted her glass, took a sip.
He watched the movements in her throat as she swallowed, amazed at how something so simple, so basic, could practically mesmerize him and send his blood humming through his veins.
She leaned forward. “And what about you, Shane?”
What about him?
He wasn’t about to spill his guts. Still, her self-disclosure was a little refreshing, and he found himself admitting, “I was married, but not anymore.”
“Do you mind if I ask why not?”
Yeah, he minded. He’d rather keep things focused on her and on why she was here. On the soft sound of her voice, the stunning blue of her eyes, the graceful way she sat before a glass of champagne and hardly took a drink.
But he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to be honest.
“My ex-wife didn’t like my job,” he admitted.
She’d also resented his family. But he kept part of the equation to himself.
“What do you do for a living?” Jillian asked.
He hesitated before answering. “I’m a ranch hand on a little spread about two hours from here. But when I was married, I had a job that kept me away from home a lot.”
He’d also had a competent—and beautiful—female partner who’d managed to gain the respect of the entire precinct, and a wife who’d been jealous of the time they’d spent together, even though it had always been work-related. But there really wasn’t any reason to go into that.
“My husband,” she began, “or rather, my ex- husband, traveled on business, too. But I hadn’t bargained on his infidelity while he was on the road, and I refused to forgive him for it.”
Something in her eyes, in the gentle tone of her voice, convinced him she was being honest.
Again, his conscience rose up, suggesting he unload his whole story on her. But what was the use? He knew nothing would amount from this…whatever this was. A mere conversation, he supposed. A pleasant diversion for two battered ships passing on a lonely night.
It was too early to predict anything more. And with him living and working two hours away in Brighton Valley… Well, there wasn’t much chance of this becoming anything else.
She leaned forward. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, go ahead.” But Shane couldn’t guarantee an answer.
“Do all men cheat?” Those brilliant tropical-blue eyes nailed him to the back of his seat. “Did you?”
The raw emotion bursting from her question—both of them, actually—took him aback, but he was glad he could be open and honest with her, at least about that. “I suppose a lot of men are tempted, and some give in to it. But I didn’t.”
He’d been brought up in the church and had been an altar boy, which didn’t necessarily mean anything. But more important, his parents had been happily married for nearly forty years. Divorce had never seemed like an option to him. And neither had lying to or cheating on a spouse.
“I’m glad to hear that.” She slid him a pretty, relief-filled smile, as if he were some kind of hero.
A man could get used to having a woman look at him like that. And while Shane had never really thought of himself as particularly heroic, even when he’d been one of Houston’s finest, it was nice to be appreciated for the values he did have.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to join me for dinner,” she said.