LJ Maas - Rebecca’s Cove

“That’s the best line you could come up with?” The blonde tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the linen-covered table.

“Well, on such short notice,” the brunette quipped. She took a healthy swallow of the vodka gimlet at her elbow.

Hobie Allen was beginning to enjoy this. She thought dining in a restaurant alone would be dreadfully boring, but the women at the table next to her were unknowingly providing some first-rate entertainment. It was difficult not to eavesdrop when her table was only a few feet away from the arguing couple.

“You’re a writer and the best excuse you can dream up is that it’s just not working?”

“You have to give me some credit. I am awfully drunk,” the brunette slurred. She grinned at her own wittiness.

“I would have thought I rated better. After all, we’ve been dating for two weeks.”

“No, dear, we’ve been having sex for two weeks. We haven’t gone anywhere...done anything. It’s just been sex in every elevator and motel in Chicago. Technically,” she motioned around her with one hand, “this is our first date.”

“You are the most arrogant, shallow—”

“You’re calling me shallow? You are by far the most self-involved person I’ve ever met, and I should know. Up until now, I was the most self-involved person I’d ever met.”

“Enjoy your dinner, you bitch!” The next act was textbook, and everyone in the restaurant saw it coming—everyone except the inebriated brunette. The blonde stood and with one swift movement tossed her drink into the other woman’s face.

The recipient of the white wine bath jumped up to keep the rest of the drink out of her lap. She grabbed a napkin and wiped her face, relieved that most of the liquid had missed her. Now standing, the woman towered over the waiters who anxiously scurried around her.

Hobie watched out of the corner of her eye. Obviously, this woman was somebody. The staff fell all over themselves trying to help her. Although Hobie was of above-average height at 5’6”, this woman looked well over six feet tall. She had dark hair that fell just to the tops of her ears and was parted on one side. When she looked down to dry off her slacks, Hobie sneaked an eyeful. Long legs, broad shoulders, and soft gray eyes filled out the package. When the woman glanced back up, she looked directly into Hobie’s gaze. A pregnant pause lasted longer than good manners called for, but Hobie felt trapped. The stranger’s short hair dipped seductively over one eye in a way that reminded Hobie of a young Elvis.

Suddenly, she winked at Hobie and shrugged her shoulders as if caught doing something foolish. Hobie felt herself smiling until she realized it felt a lot like flirting. Instantly, her defenses went up and she felt the heat of a blush creep up her neck. She pulled her gaze away from the standing woman and trained her eyes on the work she had brought along to dinner.

Throughout her meal, Hobie couldn’t quite get over the feeling that someone was watching her. She didn’t dare look over at the brunette again. That’s all I need. Remember, Hob, you’re going home tomorrow. Do not get crazy in the big city. Hobie read the journal before her, pausing occasionally to make a note in her Palm hand-held. The five-day conference had been wonderful. Not only had she learned some interesting techniques to take back to her patients, but a week in Chicago had been a much-needed vacation.

Amessage flashed across Hobie’s PDA. She stopped chewing on the end of the stylus. One sentence came up on the small screen.

I’d like to know what it feels like to kiss you.

Immediately, Hobie’s head jerked up. Fully expecting to run headlong into a leering Michigan Avenue businessman’s gaze, she scanned the room. Of course, that was probably what the computer stalker wanted, but she couldn’t help herself. It was rather like having someone tell her not to look at the person seated at the next table. Her first impulse had always been to look. Much later, Hobie realized that it was her next action that changed her life completely.

She didn’t see a leer, but instead met a set of dazzling gray eyes that caused her lungs to forget why they were there. By the time Hobie caught her breath, she realized she was smiling back at the brunette who had slipped a slim PDA into her own coat pocket.

Don’t smile, Hobie Lynn! Are you insane? This is an order. Do not smile! Do not encourage her. The voice in Hobie’s head shouted at her. That voice kept her from doing anything utterly stupid in her life—when she listened to it, that is. She was fond of ignoring the voice. Each time her actions brought about disastrous consequences, she always swore that the next time, she would listen. She rarely did.

This night was no different as Hobie felt a tightening in her abdomen at the beautiful woman’s overture. It had been a very long time since she’d felt that sensation. Hobie hadn’t really said yes or no when she found the stranger seated opposite her and the waiter bringing them fresh drinks.

“I couldn’t possibly let you walk out of this restaurant without telling you that I’d like to make tonight the most exciting night of your life,” the stranger said.

“You’re taking me to Disneyland?” Hobie tossed back. She would have laughed aloud at the opening line if anyone else had delivered it. The brunette’s charming smile never faltered and she appeared entirely confident, as though being turned down was a foreign concept. Even though the stranger’s eyes gave nothing away, Hobie could tell that she had consumed a good deal of alcohol. There was a definite slur to her speech and an unsteadiness to the way she held her body. Unfortunately, those small defects made her even more appealing.

“That’s good. You’re quick. I like that. I’m terribly attracted to you, however.”

“You’re also very drunk, aren’t you?”

“Oh, no, not by any stretch. I don’t allow myself to get very drunk until after midnight. I’m only moderately drunk.”

Hobie had no control of the light laughter that escaped her. Drunk or sober, the woman across from her was damned charming. Hobie suspected she knew it, too. The woman took Hobie’s reaction as acquiescence and slid her chair closer. Hobie noticed the subtle maneuver.

“Tell me, didn’t you just break up with someone over at that table?”

“Who, me? No. She was my secretary. I had to fire her.” She leaned in close and whispered, “She steals. It’s a sad case. I’m afraid it’s compulsive.”

“Steals, eh?” Hobie leaned back and eyed the woman. “What did she steal?”

“What?”

“Steal. What did she steal?” “Um...Wite-Out.”

“Oh, please!” Hobie laughed and folded her arms across her chest.

“Well, I didn’t want to say this...there were Post-it Notes, too. You’d be surprised how that stuff can add up, can take a Fortune 500 company right down the tubes.”

“You sure you’re not on an evening release from some mental health facility?”

“All right, yes.” The brunette chuckled and sat up straight. “Not about the release, but I was seeing her. I’m not anymore. I hate to dwell on the pain, though. So out with the old and in with the new.”

“It certainly didn’t take you long to get over the unending heartache.” Hobie couldn’t help but join in the playful banter.

“I’m a quick healer and, after all,” the woman’s brow furrowed, “it was quite a while ago.”

“Quite a while? You call waiting two hours before hitting on another woman quite a while?”

“Well,” the stranger graced Hobie with that same rakish grin, “I did wait for an hour after eating my dinner before I came over here. An hour’s the right amount of time, isn’t it? Or is that swimming? I always get the two confused.”

Hobie laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes. Wearing a smug expression, the brunette leaned back in her chair.

“You are incorrigible and I’m sure I shouldn’t even be talking to you. I’d say that you’re the kind of woman my mother warned me about.”

The brunette leaned in close again. “I’d say that your mother was a very smart woman. No, really, come on. At least let me take you out on the town. It’s a beautiful night.”

“I don’t even know your name.” “BJ Warren.” She held out her hand.

“Hobie Allen,” the auburn-haired woman responded. She shook the offered hand.

“There, now we’re properly introduced. What do you say?” Hobie could hardly hear herself speak over the screaming

of the voice in the back of her mind. “All right, I’ll go out with you.”

“You won’t be sorry.”

“You do know that I have no intention of sleeping with you, though,” Hobie said.

BJ smiled.

“I have to insist on a verbal acknowledgment of that fact.” BJ paused. “I acknowledge that at this moment, you firmly believe that to be true.”

Hobie shook her head. She couldn’t understand why she was agreeing to this. It was completely opposite to the way she lived her life. “You truly are something else.”

“I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking.” The women stood, and BJ had to still herself momentarily to shake the cobwebs from her brain.

“Tell me you’re not driving,” Hobie said. “There are three rules I always adhere to.” “And they are?”

“I always pay my taxes by April fifteenth, I never have unprotected sex with someone I don’t know, and I never drink and drive.”

“You’re a poster child for the American way.”

“One does what one can,” BJ said with a grin.

They walked out of the restaurant and Hobie was surprised that BJ wasn’t tripping all over herself. Either she’d had a great deal of experience functioning while inebriated or the alcohol hadn’t affected her as much as Hobie thought. The air was much chillier than it had been earlier when Hobie walked to the restaurant. She rubbed her hands across the goose bumps on her arms.