A Silken Thread - Brenda Jackson [32]
He hadn’t had an answer for Marshall then and didn’t have one now. However, being around Rita had made him realize that he was a man with needs. Needs he had locked away for a lifetime to be a good husband and father.
He picked up his scotch glass to take another sip when suddenly his senses became alert. Even a little edgy. The hand holding the glass tightened as he scanned the club.
And then he saw her.
Rita had entered the restaurant alone. She was looking sleek, stylish and sexy in a rather sophisticated dress that hit at the knees, showing her legs. This was the first time he’d actually seen her legs and he thought they should be on display all the time.
His eyes continued to glide over her as the waitress escorted her to a table. She hadn’t looked his way, but then she had no reason to, since he was seated in a darkened area in the back. To his way of thinking, this gave him an advantage. An advantage he probably had no right to be taking. He was, after all, a married man, regardless of whether he wanted to be. But then, a part of his brain kept insinuating that, married or not, there was nothing wrong with a man appreciating a beautiful woman, as long as he didn’t get out of line or act on that appreciation. And he had no intentions of ever doing anything like that.
As far as he was concerned, there was no reason they couldn’t enjoy each other’s company over dinner tonight. However, since she had turned down his invitation to dinner earlier, he would let her dine now in peace.
Unless she looked over his way and saw him, she had no reason to know he was even here. Picking up his glass he settled back in his chair to enjoy the view.
Chapter Eight
By the time the band broke for intermission, Rita was on her third glass of wine after dinner. For the first time in a long time she felt at ease, calm and totally relaxed. She was sure the wine had something to do with it. Not that she’d taken leave of her senses. In fact somehow the wine made her feel more alert. More attuned. Warmed to the soul.
As the lights in the club became brighter, people began moving around. Some were leaving; others were arriving. Then, there appeared to be a sudden quietness, although she could still see people buzzing about. She slowly drew a deep breath and turned her head, not sure exactly what she was looking for or expected to find. And then she saw Wilson, sitting alone at a table in the back of the club.
Their eyes met and she felt her body tense at the same time she felt shivers in the pit of her stomach. When had he arrived? She was sitting in close proximity to the entrance so there was no way he could have walked in without her noticing him. That meant he had been there all the time.
As their gazes held, his lips moved and he gave her a smile so sensual that it nearly stole her next breath. She swallowed, felt her throat getting dry and automatically took another sip of her wine.
Embarrassment nearly tinted her features. He had asked her to join him for dinner and she had turned him down, using the flimsy excuse that she wanted to hang out in her hotel room and chill. Well, although she might be chilling, this definitely wasn’t her hotel room. But a woman did have the right to change her mind, didn’t she? Would he see it as that or would he recognize it for what it had been? A way to put distance between them.
Her heart began beating furiously in her chest as their gazes continued to hold. As she watched, he finally stood and, without disconnecting his gaze from hers, he began walking over toward her table. She could feel herself tremble with every slow and methodical step that he took. He was staring at her with the