Hot Buttered Yum (3 page)

She glanced up. It was Kayla.

Roni gulped.

The frown on Kayla’s face looked as if it had been etched
there all her life. When she glanced at Lucas, it grew even harsher. Without a
word, Kayla tapped the face of her watch, eyeing Roni. Reprimanded again.

“Uh-oh,” Roni murmured. She dropped her gaze to the table and
stood, reaching into her purse to pay for her tea. “I’ve got to go.”

“I’ve got it.” Lucas had his wallet out and had a five tossed
on the table before Roni could protest.

“Thank you,” she said earnestly. She caught his gaze. “Maybe
we’ll …”

Suddenly, the thought of not seeing him again was more than
the loss of a potential fling. He’d been fun to talk to. Fun to just sit here
and share the space with. She wanted more of that.

“I’ll be around for a couple weeks,” he told her. “Maybe we
will.”

Roni flushed again, strangely flattered.

She nodded and turned to follow Kayla out of the restaurant,
but peeked back over her shoulder before she’d taken more than a few steps.

Lucas sat watching her. He wore the same look in his eyes that
she was feeling in her gut.

Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to spend more time with her
too.

As Lucas Alexander stepped inside the room, shards of light from
crystal chandeliers reflected off the high ceiling and walls of the meeting
space on the second floor of the hotel. He stood by the door, taking it all in.
Classical Christmas music played from the high speakers, though not too loud to
disrupt conversation, and a light mix of reds and greens was interspersed
throughout the room. Mostly, though, the decorations were white, silver, and
gold. Someone had done a nice job. It looked like Christmas in here.

Along with the classiness of the setup, Lucas could see a
stage at the front of the room with twenty-four chairs, twelve on either side
of the podium, each with a large number in a circle on the wall behind it.

Welcome to the Mr. Yummy Santa contest, it shouted to him.
Where men leave their dignity by the door, but just might go home with fifty
grand to the charity of their choice.

He forced himself not to roll his eyes at the name of the
contest. He supposed it was a fair trade. It wasn’t that he minded twelve days
of prancing in front of oohing and aahing women. He’d put himself through
college doing just that. It was that he felt too old for it these days.

Not to mention, the guys he worked with would have his balls
if they found out what he was doing. But then, they’d also die laughing if they
realized he graced the covers of quite a few romance novels too. Probably
novels their own wives read.

But a man had to pay the bills. Or these days, contribute to
a good cause. Because he had plenty of reasons to want to give back.

Spotting a handful of guys he’d worked with in the past, he
made his feet move and headed across the room. After his very pleasant conversation
with Roni—he’d not gotten her last name—in the restaurant that afternoon, he’d
returned to the software program he’d been fighting with all morning and had lost
track of time. He’d worked right through meeting the event coordinator in the
lobby for his welcome packet. However, asking at the front desk had led him
here for the reception. Looked like he’d come to the right place.

No one stopped him as he made his way to the side of his
buddy, Kelly Griffin.

Lucas was closer to him than anyone here. They were the same
age, and while Lucas had been putting himself through college with his modeling
income, Kelly had been making waves in the clothing world full-time. He’d
scored more than one high-name contract over the years. Underwear, T-shirts.
Even a commercial or two.

He was also the only one here who really knew Lucas. Who
knew about his home life. He’d been around when Lucas had been with Des.

“Hey, man.” Kelly slapped him on the back and pulled him
into the group he was chatting with. There were three other men he’d met before—one
who was a douche—who would be in the contest, and then there were four women
and two men he didn’t recognize.

That wasn’t actually true. He did recognize two of the
women. They were twins. They’d been at the table of women today who had been
staring at Roni and him as they’d been talking.

Flirting.

Heat pooled low in his abdomen at the memory. Yes, it had
been flirting. He may not get out much these days, but that didn’t mean he didn’t
recognize the casual banter for what it had been.

Seeing the two dark-haired women now made him wonder if Roni
would be there tonight as well. This was a meet-and-greet with the business
owners and local townspeople who’d put the contest together. Could Roni be a
part of that?

He hoped so.

He wanted to find out her last name.

He wanted to spend more time with her.

And if spending time with her led to more … as the
flirting had implied it might … all the better. Especially since the only
times he let himself have that kind of fun these days was when he left Dallas.

And he’d only left Dallas a very small number of times over the
last few years.

“How’ve you been?” Lucas gripped Kelly’s hand and gave it a
pump. “How’s Becky?”

A quick strike of pain crossed his friend’s face at the
mention of his wife.

Ah, hell
. They’d broken up?

“Really?” Lucas asked. “But you two were so—”

“Things change.” Kelly cut him off, clearly not wanting to
talk about his wife or whatever had gone on there. “About time you got down
here. Where’ve you been?”

“I caught an early flight out. Had work to get done before
the festivities could begin.”

“Still work-before-play-Alexander,” Kelly teased. “You
haven’t changed.”

Nope. He didn’t change. Much to his ex’s disgust.

He glanced around the group, letting Kelly introduce him.

“Kristi Bagley,” a curvy, pretty woman said. “I own Turtle
Tracks and Lobster Claws, an ice cream and doughnut shop here on the island.”

“Cute name.”

Kristi’s face lit up with the compliment. “Thanks. Come by
and I’ll give you one of our signature pastries, the Lobster Claw.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He turned to the next person.

“Mac Spiner.” A thin, graying man gave him a crushing grip.
“The dairy-goat farm down on the south end of the island. Hope you make it to
Eight Maids-a-Milking. The challenge that day is at my place.”

Each of the twelve days of the contest went along with the
theme from the well-known song, though the participants had no idea what those
specific daily competitions would be. They would learn them along with the
crowd the morning of the event. Apparently, if he stuck around long enough,
he’d have his hands on some teats before the week was out.

When Lucas turned to the first twin for an introduction, instead
of giving him her name, she said, “Oh. You’re a contestant.” The two sisters
exchanged a look.

She sounded disappointed.

“Yeah.” Why else would he be here? And then he saw the
numbered buttons the other guys were wearing that signified them as part of the
competition. Ah. He didn’t have his button. He looked around as if he had any
idea where to get one. “I guess I need a button.”

“Kayla’s here somewhere,” the first twin said, flipping her
hand in the air. “I’m sure she’ll find you, probably sooner rather than later.”
She held out her hand to him now. “I’m Savannah Marconi. I own the Two-Step Bar
and Grill, and my husband is manager here at the Turtle Island Hotel. Come on
out any evening for some dancing. We do classes if you aren’t familiar with
line dancing. But even better, come for the Italian special of the night. My
husband’s recipes. And welcome to Turtle Island, Lucas. I hope you enjoy your
stay.”

Lucas kept his expression polite with the bombardment of
words. She was a chatty one.

After Savannah, he shook her sister Samantha’s hand, and
watched them exchange another look before Samantha informed him, “You know, Roni
is here too.”

Nice. He didn’t even have to ask. He forced his smile to
remain polite when what he wanted to do was grin like a child who’d been let
out for summer break two weeks early.

“Good to know.”

“Who’s Roni?” Kelly asked.

“A woman I met at lunch today.”

Kelly shook his head as if impressed with the speed with
which Lucas had moved. He didn’t bother telling Kelly that he hadn’t even
managed to get her last name. He was losing his touch.

Lucas tried not to look too anxious to find her, but
couldn’t keep his gaze from scanning the room once more, now looking for a
petite, black-haired woman who had large brown eyes, one of which had a dot of green
on the outside of the pupil.

Samantha smiled behind her glass of champagne before sliding
her eyes off to his right. He followed her gaze.

Bingo.

Probably no more than five feet tall, the woman he’d barely
gotten the pleasure of meeting stood with her back to him, a slim black dress
hugging her curves, and he knew he’d recognize her anywhere. Her short, sleek
hair swept to one side, she stood with her back straight, polite but not stiff,
as she charmed several other contestants. He couldn’t blame their slack jaws
and goofy smiles. He’d been charmed in the few minutes he’d had her attention
too.

He was suddenly in a hurry to finish the introductions and
move across the room.

Fifteen minutes later, after too many polite conversations
and not nearly enough glances at Roni, he had a glass of champagne of his own,
and was crossing the plush carpet on the hunt. She’d shifted around the room
several times since he’d come in, talking with people who stood alone, pulling
them into larger groups. At the moment, she had the attention of three more
contestants, all wearing the same wowed look the earlier men had worn.

Lucas’s blood kicked into a higher gear well before he got anywhere
near her.

On the way over, he caught sight of the short-haired
brunette who’d taken Roni away from him earlier that day. She seemed just as
stressed as she had that afternoon, only tonight she held a clipboard in her
hand and was watching the crowd more than being a part of it. She tucked her
hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture and he had the thought that she might be
the Kayla that Savannah had mentioned. If so, she’d have the button indicating
he was a contestant.

That would just have to wait.

Right now he was five feet from Roni, and nothing was
changing his course.

By the time he stopped at her side, the only person still talking
with her wore a button declaring him contestant number one. Roni didn’t stop
speaking, but she did glance Lucas’s way to politely include him in the
conversation. Only, when she caught sight of him, she did go silent.

Her gaze flicked to his chest before returning to his face.
Then she visibly shook herself and returned, uninterrupted, to the sentence she’d
been in the middle of before he’d walked up. Contestant number one appeared
somewhat smug that he’d recaptured her attention.

Good luck to him. Lucas knew he was about to take it away.

In the first break of words, he took a half step closer. “Good
evening, Roni.”

Her eyelashes dipped. They were so long they seemed to touch
her cheeks. And then they lifted and those brown eyes turned up to him. He was
lost.

“You’ve met Ms. Templeman?” This came from number one.

Confusion attached itself as Lucas, forcing his attention away
from Roni, searched the area immediately surrounding them. He was aware that
concert pianist Veronica Templeman was to be master of ceremonies. He’d been
looking forward to meeting her, especially given that he’d been a fan since
he’d first heard her play five years ago. In fact, he had a bit of a celebrity
crush.

Only, he hadn’t seen her yet. He didn’t see her now, either.

“Is she here?” he asked. He wasn’t anxious to leave Roni’s
side, but he
did
want to say hello to Ms. Templeman.

The next instant, Roni stuck out her hand, smiled wryly at
him, and said, “Roni Templeman.”

The floor could have opened him up and swallowed him whole.

Roni. Veronica.

Of course.

How had he missed that?

He closed his hand around hers for the second time that day,
not unaware of the heat that traveled up his arm as he did.

He’d only seen Veronica—
Roni
—from a distance or on CD
covers before, so he’d never realized she was so tiny. But also, he’d never
seen her with anything but wavy, jet-back hair down to the curve of her rear.

The hair was still jet black, but it was completely straight
and barely hit her chin.

Roni’s lips curved before him as he stood there gaping like an
idiot.

“I take it you didn’t recognize me?” she murmured softly.
She’d turned fully to face him, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw contestant
number one move hesitantly on to find someone else to talk to. The two of them
were alone.

In the middle of a roomful of people.

But still, he had her alone.

And he still had her hand in his.

“I had no idea,” he said. The thought that internationally
renowned concert pianist Veronica Templeman had been flirting with him earlier that
day was almost enough to make him giggle like a schoolgirl. “You look different
than when you were performing.”

She’d always been stunning in her promotional photos. Not so
much model-perfect—her chin was a little too round and her eyes a bit too wide set.
But rather, as if there were a unique, magical aura about her. It made her
appear almost ethereal. In person, however …

He glanced from her black hair to the lips that bore the
faintest hint of a coral color and then on down to the creamy skin peeking out
above the modest neckline of her dress.

In person, she short-circuited his brain.

She laughed, the sound light. Sexy. It made him want to
stand even closer, touch her even more.

“I’ve changed a bit,” she admitted. “Without the hair, very
few people recognize me at first sight.” Her voice dropped lower and he had the
idea that this was what she’d sound like after a rousing night in bed. “So you’ve
heard my music?”

“A time or two.” The first had been with the Dallas
Symphony. He’d been dating Des then, and at twenty-two, had tried to impress her
with a fancy night out. He’d been the one to come away impressed, though. By
the guest appearance of Veronica Templeman.

He’d been a fan of classical music since a required class his
freshmen year had introduced him to it, but he’d never been to a live
performance. And he’d never heard of Veronica Templeman. Watching her on the
stage that night had touched him. Not merely because she was so good. And “good”
was a mild word for it. She’d been brilliant. Phenomenal.

But she’d also seemed as swept away by her own music as the
rest of the crowd had been. When she’d finished, she’d appeared … moved. Exactly
like everyone else in the room.

With her having played professionally for seventeen years,
it had shocked him to see her pure enjoyment. It hadn’t felt like it was just a
job for her. And he hadn’t been able to get enough.