Instead, she girded herself against the gossip. She forced herself to smile. First, because a warm, confident smile was essential to any role in hospitality. And second, because she couldn’t bear for any of those too-interested townsfolk to guess how churned up, anxious and panicky she was feeling inside.
It meant nothing, people, she wanted to broadcast to the room in general. Less than nothing. I walked away from that darn kiss completely unaffected.
But that wouldn’t be completely true.
Because the Great Kiss Disaster had left her doubting everything she’d believed about who was the right man for her. She’d discovered the man she’d thought was Mr Perfect was not, in fact. So where did she go next? How could she ever trust her judgement of men again?
Smile. Smile. Smile.
The restaurant in the award-winning hotel was one of the best places to eat in Dolphin Bay. More people were arriving for lunch. She had a job she valued. She wanted to be promoted to hotel manager and she wouldn’t achieve that by moping around feeling sorry for herself.
She took a deep, steadying breath, forced her lips to curve upwards in a big welcome and aimed it at the next customer—a man who had pushed his way through the glass doors that led from the steps from the beach and into the restaurant.
She nearly dropped the bottle of wine she was holding with hands that had gone suddenly nerveless. He caught her smile and nodded in acknowledgement.
Where the heck had he come from?
She’d never seen him in Dolphin Bay before, that was for sure.
Dark-haired, tall and powerfully built, his broad shoulders and muscular arms strained against his black T-shirt, his hard thighs against the worn denim of his jeans. His heavy black boots were hardly seaside resort wear, but they worked. Boy, did they work.
No wonder the two young waitresses on duty stampeded past her to show him to the best table in the house. She had to hold herself back from pulling rank and elbowing them out of the way to get to him first.
His stance was easy, confident, as he waited to be shown to a table. Her heart started to pound double-quick time. When had she last felt the kind of awareness of a man that made her ache for him to notice her?
But, when his gaze did turn in her direction, she quickly ducked her head and studiously read the label on the wine bottle without registering a single word.
She looked up again to see the young waitress who had won the race to get to him first looking up at him in open admiration and laughing at something he’d said. Did the guy realise half the female heads in the room had swivelled to attention when he’d strode in?
Not that he looked like he cared much about what people thought. His dark brown hair was several months away from a haircut—shoved back off his face with his fingers rather than a comb, by the look of it. The dark growth on his jaw was halfway to a beard.
He looked untamed. Sexy. And dangerous.
Way too dangerous.
She was shocked by the powerful punch of attraction that slammed her, the kind of visceral pull that had caused her such terrible hurt in the past. That was so different from how she’d felt for safe, familiar Jesse. She never wanted to feel again for any man that wild compulsion. The kind, when it had got out of control, that had led her down paths she never wanted to revisit.
Not now. Not ever.
She let the smile freeze on her face, stepped back and watched the other girl usher the handsome stranger to his table. She would hold off on her obligatory meet and greet to a new customer until she’d got herself together enough to mask her awareness of his appeal with breezy nonchalance. To use the light, semi-flirtatious tone that worked so well in hospitality.
Because, after all, he was just a stranger who’d breezed into town. She’d overreacted, big-time. She didn’t need to fear that rush of attraction for an unsuitable man. He was just a customer she would never see again after he’d finished his lunch and moved on. He didn’t even seem the kind of guy who would leave a generous tip.
* * *
Sam Lancaster knew he should be admiring the glorious view of the Dolphin Bay Harbour with its heritage-listed stone breakwaters, its fleet of fishing vessels and, beyond, the aquamarine waters of the Pacific Ocean. This stretch of the New South Wales south coast was known for its scenic beauty.
But he couldn’t keep his eyes off the even more appealing view of the sassy, red-haired front-of-house manager who flitted from table to table in the Hotel Harbourside restaurant, pausing to chat with each customer about their orders.
Sam wasn’t in the habit of flirting with strangers. He wasn’t the type of man who always had a ready quip for a pretty flight attendant, a cute girl behind a bar or a hot new trainer at the gym. Consequently, he was stymied by his out-of-the-blue attraction to this woman.
She hadn’t reached his table yet, and he found himself willing her to turn his way. In his head, he played over and over what clever remark he might utter when she did.
She wasn’t movie-star beautiful, but there was a vibrancy about her that kept his gaze returning to her again and again: the way the sunlight streaming through the windows turned the auburn of her tied-back hair to a glorious, flaming halo. The sensual sway of her hips in the modest black skirt. The murmur of her laughter as she chatted to a customer. All were compelling. But, when she finally headed his way, the warmth of her wide smile and the welcome that lit her green eyes made him forget every word he had rehearsed.
Her smile was of the practised meet-and-greet type she’d bestowed on every other customer in the room. He knew that. But that didn’t make it any less entrancing. She paused in front of his table. This close, he could see she had a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose and that her smile was punctuated with the most charming dimples.
What was a woman as sensational as this one doing in a backwater like Dolphin Bay?
Good manners prompted him get up to greet her, stumbling a little around the compact, ultra-modern chair not designed for a man of his height and build. Her startled step backwards made him realise she was just doing her job and a customer would usually remain seated. He gritted his teeth; he really wasn’t good at this. Where was a clever quip when he needed one?
But she quickly recovered herself. ‘Hi, I’m Kate Parker; welcome to Hotel Harbourside. Thank you for joining us for lunch.’ Her voice was low and throaty without being self-consciously sexy and transformed the standard customer greeting spiel into something he’d like to put on a repeat loop.
He thrust out his hand in greeting. ‘Sam Lancaster.’
Again she looked startled. He’d startled himself—since when did he shake hands with waitresses? But she took his hand in a firm, businesslike grip. He noted she wasn’t wearing a ring of any kind.
‘Hi, Sam Lancaster,’ she said, her teasing tone making a caress of the everyday syllables of his name. ‘Is everything okay at your table?’
He cleared his throat. ‘F...fine.’
That was all he managed to choke out. Not one other word of that carefully thought out repartee.
Damn it.
He was a man used to managing a large, successful company. To never being short of female company if he didn’t want it. But he couldn’t seem to get it together in front of this girl.
He realised he’d gripped her warm, slender hand for a moment too long and he released it.
She glanced down at the menu on the table, then back up at him, the smile still dancing in her eyes. She knew. Of course she knew. A woman like this would be used to the most powerful of men stuttering in her presence. ‘Have you ordered lunch yet? I can recommend the grilled snapper, freshly caught this morning.’
‘Thank