Gentle Pirate (3 page)

Kirsten set the wine list down and told Ben her decision, helping him with the French pronunciation so he wouldn't embarrass himself, and then something made her glance over her shoulder toward the booths on the other side of the room. A small, shuddery feeling went through her as she caught Simon Kendrick's steady hazel gaze. As usual, he wasn't smiling. He didn't withdraw his attention after he realized she had seen him, but continued to watch Kirsten until she felt herself coloring again. This was the second time he had managed to make her blush, she thought angrily. His manners left a great deal to be desired!

Deliberately she turned back to Ben, finding with a slight start that it was strangely difficult to unlock her gaze from Kendrick's. She watched her escort give the order to the waiter and when he had finished, flashed him her best smile and launched into the task of making herself entertaining.

She was generally very good at promoting casual conversation, privately attributing what social life she enjoyed to her ability to listen and to the fact that there were very few subjects in which she was not interested. The latter fact was the reason she had become a librarian. It had given her a chance to dabble in a variety of fields, such as the nuclear industry in which Silco was deeply involved. The short time she had worked in Richland, however, was rapidly convincing her that nuclear power might well go down on her very short list of subjects she did not care to discuss. At least, not with those like Ben Williamson who were making careers out of it!

"You should have seen her, Kirsten," Ben was saying with laughter. "She really was nervous! Can you imagine?"

"What's wrong with being nervous about nuclear energy?" Kirsten responded carefully, thinking Ben was showing an unusual amount of interest in the new secretary he was discussing. She wondered whether she was soon to have a rival for his somewhat superficial, if pleasant, attentions. She realized the thought was not particularly alarming.

"Blasphemous words in this town, young woman!" he informed her roundly. "Richland was built on nuclear energy! You know that! Why, this whole area didn't even rate a pinpoint on the map until the government moved in during the forties and made it part of the atomic bomb project!"

"And all of its paychecks have been dependent on nuclear projects ever since," Kirsten finished for him, not giving Ben her full attention. A part of her was beginning to be intensely aware of the man seated across the room by himself. Was he still watching her? She dared not turn to look. Would he wander into the lounge after dinner? Somehow she didn't relish having him anywhere near her in the dark intimacy of the cocktail lounge where Ben and she would undoubtedly be dancing later.

"I'm well aware of this town's history, but you're not exactly a long-time resident yourself, Ben. You ought to realize that there are people outside this area who don't buy the whole sales job on nuclear power. The new secretary is obviously one of them." Kirsten finished her comments in a brisker tone than she had intended. It was difficult to keep up a smooth conversation when someone kept staring at you! Instantly she wished she had kept her tone lighter. Poor Ben backed off immediately, as he generally did.

"Okay, okay! I'm in no mood to fight tonight. I've got much better things on my mind!" Ben surrendered laughingly and attacked his salad.

Kirsten followed suit, still wondering if Simon Kendrick would follow them into the lounge. It occurred to her he was not the kind of man to back off.

The wine was the only part of the meal that she really paid any attention to and that was because it was a hobby of hers. By the time they had finished and Ben had suggested they remove to the cocktail lounge, she was feeling unexpectedly tense. Her faint smile took an enormous amount of control as they walked past Kendrick's table. Until now Ben hadn't been aware the other man was in the room, but as they moved toward the door there was no way of missing the large figure seated alone in the booth.

The two men exchanged nods and Kirsten found something inane but polite to say. She prayed that Ben and she would be allowed to pass without more notice but knew it was not to be even as Kendrick eyed her with a lazy gleam in his hard eyes.

"If you two are going in to dance, you must have a drink with me," he announced casually. Kirsten wasn't in the least fooled. The invitation was a command and she and Ben both knew it. They stood aside as their would-be host got to his large feet and picked up the tab lying on the table. Normally the waiter would have handled the check, but Simon Kendrick apparently did not intend to chance losing his victims while going through the formality of paying the bill.

The three of them moved toward the cashier as if nothing in the world was wrong. Ben appeared totally unconcerned. In fact, Kirsten privately thought, he was enjoying being singled out by higher management. But a strange flight of fancy left her feeling rather like a reluctant slave being drawn by invisible chains. Chains that were caught and held casually in the steel grip of a pirate.

If Ben was aware of Kirsten's uncharacteristic silence as they entered the darkened lounge, he didn't comment on it. She was doing her best to find a few bright, casual remarks, but all she could think about was the tall man who followed politely at her heels.

"How about this table?" Ben suggested, pulling out a chair for Kirsten. "It's far enough from the music that we won't have to shout at each other," he added, indicating the small group tuning their instruments on the slightly elevated stage.

"This is fine," Kirsten announced, sinking thankfully into the seat he held.

With an agreeable nod, Simon Kendrick took the chair to her left, leaving the third for Ben. The table was so small, Kirsten knew it was going to be difficult not to bump each other's arms and knees occasionally. Determinedly she withdrew as far as possible into her chair. It was annoying to have one's evening taken over like this, she thought disgustedly.

"What will you have, Miss Mallory?" Kendrick asked politely. But it was only his words that were polite, she told herself. The way the intelligent hazel gaze pinned her was not. In fact, it made her so self-conscious that she couldn't think clearly enough to recall the names of any of the milder liqueurs she had tried previously. Wine was the only area in which she had any real knowledge of alcoholic beverages.

"Would you like me to choose something for you?" the big man was suggesting smoothly as the cocktail waitress headed in the direction of their table.

"No, that's all right," Kirsten responded hurriedly as she caught sight of a snifter being carried to a nearby table. "I'll have a brandy." She ignored Ben's look of surprise. She hated brandy. But she hated large men presuming to make her decisions for her even more.

One heavy eyebrow lifted in a gesture Kirsten was already finding familiar and then Kendrick turned politely to Ben, noted his request, and gave the order to the rather scantily clad waitress. Kirsten noticed with resentment that she didn't seem the least bit disconcerted by Simon Kendrick. But, then, the silver hook still reposed out of sight on his knee.

The conversation drifted easily into shop talk as they awaited their drinks. Kirsten let Ben carry the burden of the conversation, which he did very handily. A nice man, she told herself for the hundredth time, watching the pleasant-faced young man across from her.

The musicians finished setting up and launched into a fast number that drew several couples from the surrounding tables onto the floor.

"Shall we dance, Kirsten?"

She glanced up to see her date leaning over her and eagerly got to her feet.

"Excuse us." Kirsten smiled at Kendrick, feeling a little guilty about viewing Ben's invitation as an escape but not so guilty as to miss it. He nodded slowly, hazel eyes never leaving Kirsten as she and Ben made their way toward the small dance floor. She knew they didn't because she could feel them.

Once there, Kirsten threw herself into the music, using it to work out some of the tension that had been building within her since she had first noticed Simon Kendrick at dinner. Ben was a willing partner and together they made a lively couple. Both were laughing and breathless when the music eventually drew to a close.

"He's still there," Kirsten hissed at Ben as they moved back to the table.

"I knew he wouldn't give up without a fight," he responded with worldly wisdom.

"What do you mean, give up?" Kirsten demanded, startled. "All he did was invite us for a drink!"

"Correction. He invited you for a drink. And since I was unavoidably attached to you, he had to include me!"

"Ben, don't be an idiot!" Kirsten snapped. "He's all by himself, new in town and feeling a bit lonely. That's all there is to it. It's just our bad luck he picked on us to give him some company." She didn't believe a word of what she was saying.

"That man isn't lonely unless he wants to be," Ben informed her with a grin. "Haven't you seen the looks Liz Wilford has been giving him?"

Kirsten giggled. "I didn't know you paid such close attention to the undercurrents of office romances!"

Ben laughed good naturedly. "You ought to realize by now that in this town office romances are one of the chief forms of entertainment!"

It was on a relaxed, smiling note that Kirsten and Ben reached their host's table and seated themselves. Kendrick had risen politely at their approach and somehow when he sat down again, his chair was even closer to Kirsten's. She felt a strong thigh brush hers as they settled back and she hastily rearranged her legs. Unable to think of anything else in the way of brilliant social moves, she reached for her glass and swallowed a mouthful of the potent, fiery brandy.

The result was predictable and she felt like a gauche teenager taking her first drink of hard liquor when she choked painfully. A sudden blow between the shoulder blades broke the coughing immediately, although it had the secondary effect of nearly sending her sprawling across the tabletop. A vision of herself flying through the air, propelled by Simon Kendrick's casual, lionlike blow, caused her sense of humor to finally return to the fore.

"Kirsten, are you all right?" Ben asked in alarm. A nice man.

She shook her head helplessly, trying to keep back the laughter and finally surrendering to it. Ben watched a little anxiously as she succumbed while the man who had caused the entire incident eyed her narrowly. It seemed to Kirsten's light-headed senses that a small smile curled the corners of that firm mouth. Not at all nice.

"Everything back to normal, Miss Mallory?" Kendrick inquired lazily as she got herself under control.

"I'm fine, Mr. Kendrick." Kirsten managed to grin, still gasping a little for air. "Please do me a favor next time you administer first aid, however, and try not to do any permanent damage! I was lucky this time but another rescue attempt might finish me!" She met his eyes and an instant later the humor went out of the situation for her. He had struck her with a fair degree of force. And she realized he'd had no intention of hurting her. But large men often didn't know their own strength… She put the other memory out of her mind and left her smile where it was. But it felt stiff now.

"Next time we'll try another type of brandy, perhaps?" Kendrick suggested outrageously.

"In case you haven't noticed. I'm not all that fond of brandy!" Kirsten retorted promptly. Seizing the opportunity of breaking the disturbing eye contact, she turned on Ben. "Why didn't you say something?" she demanded laughingly. "You know I never drink the stuff. It belongs on pirate ships and in smoke-filled rooms!"

"I always figure you know what you're doing, Kirsten." Ben smiled apologetically.

"A mistaken assumption, perhaps," Kendrick remarked softly.

Kirsten spun around in the swivel chair, all vestiges of humor gone instantly. "Ben's assumption is the right one," she snapped with what she knew was unwarranted ill grace. "I prefer to make my own decisions!"

"Even wrong ones?" Kendrick flicked hazel eyes over her frowning features as if cataloging them for future reference. Her barely concealed displeasure didn't appear to bother him in the least.

"Any kind of decisions," she stated clearly and then signaled Ben that she wanted to dance.

Before her date could respond, however, Simon Kendrick was on his feet. For such a huge person he could move remarkably fast, Kirsten thought ruefully, knowing what was coming and unable to think of a polite way to avoid it.

"I think I deserve some thanks for my gallant rescue," he quipped, giving Ben the benefit of a glance that would have quelled an entire board of directors. "If you have no objections, Williamson?"

There wasn't anything Ben could do and all three of them knew it. Besides, Kirsten sighed inwardly, rising, Ben wasn't exactly the possessive type in the first place. Wasn't that one of the things that attracted her to him? It was simply unfortunate that the very quality she admired in him was the one that would prevent Ben from protecting her against pirates.

Without a word. Kirsten walked ahead of Simon Kendrick toward the dance floor, where the various couples were moving to a slow, languid beat. She wondered briefly how he would solve the problem of holding her with only one hand, thinking of the hook that curled like a sophisticated claw at the end of the left cuff. But she should have known a man like Kendrick would have developed an answer for such a problem. He deftly put both arms around her in an intimate dancing embrace, caging her against his massive, strong body with a suddenness that made her gasp. Instinctively Kirsten resisted, trying to free herself from the enveloping hold, but his only response was to tighten his grasp, making her totally aware of the sheer, powerful masculinity of him in a way that sent a shiver of panic through her. She lifted furious eyes to his and opened her lips to protest.

"It's easier for me this way," he said before she could speak, politely daring her to object.

"Your method of dancing is not particularly comfortable for your partner," she snapped angrily, both hands pushing against his shoulders. "I can barely move my feet!"