Bedroom Eyes (25 page)

The bartender slapped his thigh. “Hey, Chris, we got any ’89 Chateau du France Bordeaux?” He laughed. “Got a comedienne here.”

Penelope smiled weakly, then said, “Whatever you have that’s red.”

“That’s more like it.” The man slapped a small glass onto the bar and poured from a jug. “We stick to the basics at Olano’s,” he said. “You’ve never been here before, have you?”

She shook her head. “No, but it seems nice.”

He nodded. “That’ll be three twenty-five, or are you running a tab?”

Yet to lift the wineglass, Penelope waved a hand. “Tab.”

He drifted off to serve another customer and Penelope glanced around. Behind her people were coming and going in a steady stream from the dining room. Aromas that made her mouth water filled the air. Compared to this place, Primo’s had been a pristine sanitarium where food appeared mysteriously in elegant dishes.

Here, Penelope got the feeling she was right in the midst of a celebration of eating. Swinging doors to the side of the bar led to the kitchen. What she wouldn’t give to pop in there and take a lesson or two!

Of course, she’d felt the same way about Primo’s, but the difference in the atmosphere intrigued her. It was the difference between rich kids dressed in velvet and told not to get dirty before Christmas dinner versus children running riot out-of-doors during a family gathering before they plopped down on picnic benches to wolf hot dogs.

The woman seated next to her slipped off the stool and headed for the dining room.

“This seat free?”

Penelope stiffened. She’d know that voice anywhere. She swallowed, forcing herself to relax. Turning her head toward his voice, she said in a slow drawl, “For you, big guy.”

“You!”

Penelope was positive the shock in his voice couldn’t be faked. Had he not even glanced at her before throwing out his pickup line? My, my, but did this man need to learn a lesson or two.

She widened her eyes, crossed one leg at the knee, beginning a slow kick in what she hoped was a seductive rhythm, and toyed with the stem of her wineglass. Penelope found herself hoping Mrs. Merlin had thrown a spell or two extra into last night’s ceremony. What she wouldn’t give to be the sexiest vixen alive and leave this man panting for more.

He’d taken the barstool, turning toward her in an assuming way. His knees, bare and marvelously dusted with those fine black hairs, brushed her leg.

She stopped her leg in mid-swing. “Were you expecting someone else?”

Tony shook his head, attempting to sort out his scrambled brain. What was Penelope doing here at Olano’s? Hadn’t she gotten the message he couldn’t keep their date? And hey, he’d never told her where he’d planned to take her.

She watched him with those big blue eyes, and he figured he ought to come out with some sort of answer. Retreating to the lazy grin and detached voice that worked so well for him with the opposite sex, he leaned forward on one elbow and said, “No one near as lovely as you.”

Her fingers tightened on the wineglass, then relaxed. Tony hid a smile. Penelope was way out of her element. That she’d tracked him down gave him a start, but also quite a thrill.

Tonight, he thought, would be far more interesting than he’d resigned himself to. Not that he could let things get out of hand, of course. He had to keep the danger to Penelope uppermost in his mind.

Which was damn hard to do when he could see straight down her lawyer suit to the lacy edges of her bra. Tony swallowed. What had she done? Taken off her blouse in the parking lot and sashayed in here half-naked?

She swirled her wine, then gulped at it. She made a face as she sat the glass down carefully on the bar.

“Bad vintage?”

She shrugged. Her suit jacket slipped a bit, exposing the top of her shoulder and highlighting the scalloped lace of her bra even more. Her foot set to swinging again and Tony leaned a bit closer, both to admire the view and to see whether he could rattle her just a bit.

“How was your day at the office?”

She looked surprised at his question. “Interesting,” she said. “Very good, actually.”

“Oh?”

She furrowed her brow slightly. “I solved a problem, a tough one, and I brought in a new—” She stopped abruptly.

“Go on,” he said in a low voice, playing with the edge of the napkin that lay under her wine-glass.

“Do you really want to hear this?”

“Please.” And the darnedest thing was he really did want to know everything there was to know about Penelope Sue Fields, beginning with what she’d eaten for breakfast, and ending with why she’d appeared at his family’s restaurant.

She sat up straighter.

Tony registered his disappointment as his view of her cleavage shifted.

“I brought in a new client today. Quite a coup, actually.” She sounded surprised.

“You mean you don’t do that sort of thing all the time?”

“Now you’re making fun of me. I’ve done it before, but not in quite this way.”

“Oh?”

She swigged another gulp of wine.

Taking a look at her reddening cheeks, Tony signaled his nephew Charles and mouthed, “Two iced teas.”

She stopped talking. Pointedly, she stared at his hand playing with her napkin. “I’m not good at flirting. I shouldn’t tell you that, when that’s what I’m trying to do here tonight, but the amazing thing was this morning at breakfast I did not say one intelligent thing and the client loved me.”

“Is that right?” Tony wondered whether Penelope had gone to a convent school. What in the hell did she think motivated men? Sure, figures and profits had to be considered, but did she think any man could ignore his gut reaction to a beautiful woman?

And she was beautiful, even though Tony had pretty much figured out Penelope had no idea of that fact.

Perhaps, Tony thought—taking in her wide-eyed innocence as she attempted to look very much the siren and succeeded in looking exactly like a sweet-souled woman who knew only how to be herself, which was exactly what he wanted her to be—that lack of knowledge only magnified her charms.

“So,” Penelope was saying, sipping on her wine, “it was quite an interesting day. Except”—she sighed—“for Mrs. Merlin’s problem, that is.”

“Is she okay?” Tony remembered her mentioning her cat’s name as Mrs. Mer, but perhaps he’d misheard.

Penelope shook her head slowly. Then she drained her wine, looking at the empty glass with an expression of surprise. After a quick grimace, she chased the wine with a long swallow of the iced tea Chris, Jr., had delivered.

“I’m afraid she’s . . . flattened.”

“I am sorry,” he said, and meaning it. “Poor kitty.”

“Kitty?” She sounded confused, then her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. She lifted the empty wineglass and studied it, as if searching for an answer. “I really am not a drinker, you know.”

He nodded, having already figured that one out, and leaned closer. What other tidbits would she reveal after one glass of Olano’s house red? “Is that why you came here tonight? To drink?”

“Of course not.” Her eyes sparked. “I’m on a mission.”

“Ah, a mission.”

Penelope smiled in an arch way Tony had not seen before. “A mission to torment you, Mr. Olano.”

“So is that why you left your blouse in the car?”

She jerked back. “I did no such thing!” She blushed slightly, then said, “Behold the new Penelope. I went to work this way. Except for the shoes.”

Tony eyed the frilly edging of her bra. “No wonder your client signed on.”

“I would never use sex as a substitute for competent lawyering.” She practically bristled.

“So why’d you dress like that?” As much as Tony enjoyed the sight of the plunging neckline, he hated the idea of any other man sharing the view. Other than a delicate silver chain and pendant, nothing broke the view between her chin and her cleavage.

She drank some tea. Looking down at her lap, she mumbled, “I forgot it.” Then she fastened her gaze on his and said, “Gosh darn, I’m a failure at flirting.”

She sounded so mournful he couldn’t even laugh. She had absolutely no idea how adorable she looked, sitting there on the barstool all prim and proper, wishing she could fulfill some image she carried in her mind of the perfect flirtatious female. And all the while, Tony had to keep reminding himself he’d promised he’d have nothing else to do with Penelope—for the moment.

For her own sake.

Trying for a light tone, he said, “Let me be the judge of your flirting.” Then he reached for her hand, ignoring the bells and whistles sounding in his brain. Right now he was thinking with an entirely different portion of his anatomy.

His heart, amazingly so.

He shook his head, realizing the truth of that thought. He started to speak, to tell her he was sorry, so very sorry, for canceling their dinner date, even though he’d done so to protect her from Hinson’s jealousy, but just then his nephew bounded up behind the bar.

“Hey, Tony-O!”

Tony froze, then reluctantly released her hand.

Chris, Jr., leaned halfway over the bar and said with a wink, “So, how’s it going?” Then he cocked his head toward Penelope in a gesture that couldn’t have been less subtle than an announcement on the loudspeaker.

Then, addressing Penelope, Chris, Jr., said, “So has he gotten to first base with you yet?”

Tony shook his head and covered his face with one hand. Doomed—he might as well admit it. Trying to get anywhere with Penelope here in ground zero of the family business had to have been the thinking of a madman. He had to get her out of here, away from interruptions, however well-intended, by members of his very extended family.

Then Penelope smiled at Chris, Jr.

That was all the encouragement the seventeen-year-old needed. He dropped his elbows on the bar and gazed at her. “Did Uncle Tony tell you what great eyes you have?”

Just wait till he got hold of his nephew!

Penelope also shook her head, then whispered, “No, he didn’t.”

Well, that did it. That took the cake! Just when would he have had time to clasp her gently by the shoulders, gaze into her face, and whisper that her eyes were the most beautiful blue he’d ever seen, bluer than any bluebell, bluer than indigo, bluer than any sad song ever belted out by a bluesman . . .

Chris, Jr., kept on going, plowing ahead, digging himself into deeper and deeper doo-doo as far as his uncle was concerned. “Well, did Uncle Tony tell you what great . . .” the seventeen-year-old’s point of focus drifted lower, far lower than Penelope’s blue eyes. He licked his lips.

Tony interrupted his nephew’s waking wet dream. “I think it’s time you cleaned the beer cooler.”

Chris grinned. “Yeah, right, Uncle Tony. Remember me in your will, won’tcha?” Then he pried himself off the bar and ambled toward the beer cooler.

He was a good kid, one Tony’s brother could be proud of. But right now Tony could have done without the coaching from the sidelines.

Penelope’s blue eyes had been drilling into him for enough time now that he couldn’t return her gaze without either excusing himself for not asking her out, or giving in to weakness and spending the rest of the night with her. Compromising with his conscience, he settled on asking her, “How about a walk outside?”

Penelope fingered the side of her tea glass, capturing the drops of moisture the way he wanted to capture her lips. Tony had to force himself not to edge off the barstool while he waited for her answer. He figured he had something going in his favor: Most women faced with a canceled dinner date wouldn’t come around looking for the weasel. So just maybe she was at least interested.

“Sure,” she said, in a voice that carried just a hint of anxiousness.

Wanting her not to worry, wanting her only to want to be with him, Tony slid off the stool, then guided her gently through the throng of waiting diners, anxious to be alone with Penelope.

“This way,” Tony said, guiding her off the porch, onto a side path that led to a footbridge that arched over the waterway joining the marina to Lake Pontchartrain. Reluctant to let loose of Penelope’s arm, he maintained the contact as they stepped from light to darkness.

In the shadows that rose up beside the restaurant, he hesitated, then said, “I’m glad you came looking for me.”

She turned to face him and in the light streaming out from the restaurant windows, he could see her eyes shining. “Me, too,” she said. “Though I did it for different reasons, I’m glad I came out here.”

“So you like me a little better now?” He said it half-jokingly, but he wanted to know.

She nodded, then almost in slow motion raised one hand to his right cheek. “Yes, I do,” she whispered, barely grazing his face with her touch. “And I like your family.”

“They’re a good bunch,” he said, taking her hand and leading her along the path to the marina and lakefront area surrounding his family’s restaurant. He knew every square inch of the place, having played hide and go seek there years before taking his high school dates to the darkest pockets for midnight kisses.

Now, leading Penelope toward the footbridge, he moved forward carefully, sensing with every step that he’d started down a course he’d either regret like hell or fall to the ground over in thanks.

“Do you have any idea how appealing your innocence is?” Tony asked her, when he could corral his thoughts into words. “You’re practically trying to seduce me and yet you’re so incredibly naive . . ..”

“I am?” She puckered up and wrinkled her brow in that way of hers that drove Tony over the edge.

“Oh, yes,” he said, tracing the outline of her full lips with the pad of his thumb.

She leaned backward, just a bit, against the railing of the bridgework, and he regretted causing her to pull away.

“It’s okay,” he said, “I won’t throw myself on you.”

“Oh,” she said, and the disappointment came through loud and clear.

Pleased, Tony said, “Unless you want me to, of course.” He inched closer, wedging one leg around hers, pulling her close by clasping her around her waist.

She looked up into his eyes.

Her lashes fluttered.

“Do I scare you?” he asked in a low voice.

“Mmm,” she said, sounding breathless.