At last, she
tossed her towel beneath the bar and decided to quit dancing around and just
find out who the stranger was.
“How you doing
over here?” she asked, approaching with an easy smile that felt utterly fake.
“I’m fine, thank
you for asking,” he answered.
His eyes held a
bemused gleam as they made a lazy sweep of her hair and face. She caught
herself smoothing her ponytail and tried not to look completely disconcerted by
him. But it was harder than it should have been.
“I haven’t seen
you in here before,” she said, pleased at how natural her voice sounded. It had
just the right balance of warmth and inquisitiveness and none of the jittery
nerves rioting inside her.
“It’s my first
visit.”
She sensed that
the innocuous statement held a double meaning she wasn’t sharp enough to catch.
“Well, welcome to
Love’s. I’m Roxanne.”
“I know. Roxanne
Love.”
He spoke her name
in that husky tone, only now it held a note of satisfaction. As if finding her,
recognizing her, had been a great feat that he’d accomplished against all odds.
Her smile faltered
and she took a step back. The instinct was ingrained. It had been years since
the media or the obsessed fanatics who’d stalked her in the past had caught her
unaware, but she never fully let down her guard.
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