“Good. Dinner is still on me. Get the lobster, drinks, the works. I’ll reimburse you. I feel so badly about this.”
“I don’t mind sitting with you guys, really. You’ve sat with me through worse.”
“No. I’m serious, Maya. This is your first birthday without the girls since the divorce. I wanted to be there for you tonight.”
Maya tugged her lower lip between her teeth. Her daughters were in Puerto Rico with their dad. Tomorrow afternoon they’d be flower girls when he wed the new and improved Mrs. Carlos Alvarez—a fresh-faced, barely legal coed. The one weekend of the summer his family church was available happened to be on her birthday weekend. She would never deny Sofia and Gabriella the chance to spend time with their dad. So she’d put on a brave face and watched them board a plane with their father two days ago. She’d been sulking ever since. “I miss them.”
“I know, but they’re going to have a blast spending the summer with their grandparents in Puerto Rico. Carlos is an asshole for choosing this weekend to get married, but he’s given you a rare gift for a single mom. Time to yourself. Don’t blow it. I need to live vicariously through you.” They both laughed, then Kendra’s tone turned somber. “Seriously, sis, promise me you’ll have a good time tonight.”
“I’ll try.” Maya bit back her disappointment and forced a smile into her voice, so Kendra wouldn’t worry. Her daredevil nephew had given her sister enough to worry about tonight. She could certainly make it through one birthday solo. “Call me if you need something. Anything.”
“We’ll be fine. Now go have some fun. Flirt a little. Have the lobster. Then bring the bill back to me. That’ll be my sorry-I-screwed-up-your-birthday gift. Love ya, babe.” Kendra hung up before Maya could object.
Dinner for one tonight. Happy birthday to me.
Maya slid her phone back into her purse and looked up. A wolfish grin nearly split the old man’s face. His eyes still drawn to her cleavage.
“Looks like you could use some company for dinner.”
She gritted her teeth and swallowed the curses, most of them in Spanish, that came to mind.
“Mr. Westbrook, I’ll seat you now.” The hostess approached Hot Suit Guy with a menu.
“That’s our table, love.” The man stood, extending his hand to her.
Her eyes traveled up the sleeve of his expensive suit. Definitely athletic cut.
The man was tall, and even more handsome upon closer inspection. Michael Ealy meets Adam Levine handsome.
Her heart beat a little faster and a jolt of electricity traveled the length of her spine. She shuddered inwardly. Handsome, charming and he damned well knew it.
A man like that is bad news.
She had two kids and a divorce decree to prove it. It would be safer to pass on the invitation. And she intended to, because that was just what she did. She made sensible choices. Played it safe. But the man’s expectant grin taunted her. Dared her to venture beyond the cozy cocoon of her safe and predictable life.
He’s being a gentleman. Why not let him?
Maya placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. Heat radiated up her arm from the warmth of his hand on hers. His clean scent—like freshly-scrubbed man, new leather and sin—was captivating.
Maybe sin didn’t have a scent, per se. But if it did, it would smell like him, with his mischievous smile and eyes so dark and intense they caused a flutter in her belly whenever she looked into them.
Tucking her hand into the bend of his elbow, he followed the hostess to their table. Maya concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. The simple feat required all of her concentration.
“Thank you.” The words tumbled from her lips the second the hostess left them alone. “It was kind of you to come to my rescue, but I doubt dinner with a random stranger was your plan for tonight. I’ll order something to go from the bar and let you get back to your evening.” The inflection at the end of the phrase indicated it was a question. She hadn’t intended it to be. The thinking part of her brain clearly wasn’t the part of her body in control at the moment.
His dark eyes glinted in the candlelight. “My motives aren’t as altruistic as you might imagine. The opportunity to dine with a beautiful woman presented itself, so I seized it. I’d much prefer your company to eating alone.”
Her heart pounded. Eating with a stranger would be uncomfortable. Dining alone on her birthday when there was a better option...that was just sad.
Maya surveyed the man. He was confident. Cocky even. And sexy as sin. There was that word again. She sighed. No point in denying the truth. His penetrating stare and impish grin stirred the kind of feelings that were a dangerous luxury she couldn’t afford. Regardless of her body and brain going rogue, she had zero interest in anything more than an hour of dinner conversation with another adult.
They were in a restaurant full of people. What harm would there be in sharing a meal?
She furrowed her brows. “You really want to do this?”
“I do.” His eyes twinkled with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. Fitting for a guy who probably wasn’t accustomed to working this hard to get a woman to say yes.
“Then thank you for the dinner invitation, Mr. Westbrook.”
He extended his large hand across the table. “Please, call me Liam.”
Maya slipped her hand into his. She allowed herself a moment to revel in the heat of his firm grip. How would it feel to have those hands on her waist? Her hips? Her... Maya’s cheeks warmed, and she withdrew her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Liam.”
He smiled. “So, Ms. Alvarez...it is Ms., isn’t it?” She nodded as she absently stroked her empty ring finger. The bareness still felt new. She’d only stopped wearing her wedding band six months earlier. When Carlos announced his engagement to what’s-her-face. “What shall I call you?”
She raised her eyes to his again. “Maya.”
“Well, happy birthday, Maya. Sorry you’re stuck with me on your big day. Let’s make the best of it, shall we?” He winked.
“Thank you.” Maya exhaled, easing the tension in her shoulders. Small talk. She could do small talk. “So, where are you from, Liam?”
“London, originally. Spent the past few years here in the US working in New York and then LA.”
“What brings you to Pleasure Cove?”
There was a flash of something in his eyes. Anger? Or maybe pain? But it was quickly displaced by the luminous glint that was there before. “I’d planned to return to London earlier this year, but things change. So here I am.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m in hospitality.”
She should have known. Pleasure Cove, once a sleepy little fishing and beach town favored by old money snowbirds and retirees, had quickly become a playground for the upwardly mobile and nouveau riche. There were at least three new resorts and as many condos under construction. “Which hotel?”
“Pleasure Cove Luxury Resort.”
“The crown jewel of Pleasure Cove,” she said, echoing the ad. “I saw the renderings online. It’s going to be unlike anything in Pleasure Cove.”
“That’s the plan.” He tapped the table. “But that’s enough about me. I want to hear all about you, birthday girl.”
Maya was relieved when the server interrupted them. The woman introduced herself, set down two glasses of water and rattled off the specials.
Maya ordered, then quickly added, “Separate checks, please.”
“I