Part 20 (1/2)

She had to smile; Bill Will was so full of it. ”How much have you had to drink?” she asked him. Like he needed alcohol to be outrageous?

He raised both hands. ”Just one beer. Honest.”

”Well, go get yourself another,” Samantha said. ”You, too,” she told Red. ”This table is reserved.”

”Okay, fine,” Bill Will said with a shrug.

”Bill Will, over here!” called one of the Mr. Dreamy hunters.

That was all it took. He sauntered off, his buddy following him. Samantha watched them go and took another slug of her drink. This was re-e-eallly good. A couple of these could go a long way toward helping a girl forget her problems.

Now Rita was back with a bowl of pretzels. ”This is good stuff,” Samantha told her.

Rita smiled. ”We thought you'd like it.”

”Can I have another?”

”Sure. But go easy. It's sweet but it packs a wallop.”

As hard as she'd already been walloped this week, Samantha wasn't afraid of a little old drink. ”I can handle it,” she said.

Rita seemed dubious, but went to put in the order.

”I can handle my liquor,” Samantha muttered, then smiled. She'd heard that expression before. Never thought she'd use it, though.

Now Charley was at the table. ”I guess you got the entries,” she said, pointing to the pile of papers on the table in front of Samantha.

”Oh, yeah. Looks like we're going to have quite the pageant.”

”I'd say so,” Charley said. ”Make yourself at home with the pretzels. I've got to announce our s.h.i.+rtless-man parade.”

Samantha frowned. ”That is so disgusting.”

”Don't blame me. It was your sister's idea.”

”Which one?”

”The one who conveniently isn't here,” Charley said, and made her way to the tiny stage at one corner of the bar, where a mike had been set up.

Blake had been in a corner booth when Samantha Sterling entered the restaurant. Brave man that he was, he hid behind his menu at the sight of her. Ever since she'd disappeared into the bar he'd tried to consume the medium-rare steak and baked potato he'd ordered, but with little success. Thinking about the mess she was in had taken away his appet.i.te. Samantha Sterling had been in his thoughts since the first day she'd walked into the bank. Even worse, she'd quickly migrated from his thoughts to his dreams, and they weren't the kind of dreams a guy shared with his mom.

Those dreams would never come true. He was the unwilling villain in her life. He recalled the very unpleasant scene with Darren after the factory fiasco. Brown had merely shrugged off their encounter with Samantha. He had the patience of a croc. He'd wait. Darren, on the other hand, had seethed with a barely controlled rage all through lunch. And before he and Brown took off for Seattle, he made sure he got a minute alone with Blake to rake him over the coals for his lack of team spirit.

”If Trevor wants this,” Blake had retorted, ”he'll wait. Meanwhile, Sweet Dreams is still a bank customer.”

”Not for long, just like your run as bank manager,” Darren had snarled, and stormed off.

Wounded pride, Blake had reasoned. He'd calm down. And in another couple of months Trevor Brown would happily swallow a new chocolate company. The only one who'd come out of this badly was Samantha Sterling.

”Shouldn't you be in the bar?” Maria asked as she gave him his check.

”What's going on in there?” he asked.

”It's the kickoff for the Mr. Dreamy pageant,” she said. ”You're one of the contestants. Why aren't you in there?”

”I'm what?” Was she making some kind of sick joke?

”n.o.body told you?”

He shook his head.

Maria made a face. ”Well, you're on the list.”

”What list?” Was he in the Twilight Zone?

Now she shook her head and put a hand on her hip. ”The one with all the contestants. You have some serious compet.i.tion.”

”I didn't enter,” he protested.

”Somebody nominated you, because your picture's hanging up with all the other contestants in the Sweet Dreams shop.”

He grabbed his wallet and pulled out his credit card. ”Well, it's news to me.”

She shrugged and went to ring up his bill, and he sat and drummed his fingers on the table, trying to figure out who'd done this to him. Someone had a sick sense of humor.

Or thought he was fabulous. He frowned. Gram. Oh, man, this was sick.

Maria returned with his receipt. He added a generous tip and scrawled his name, then headed for the bar to make sure he was removed from the infamous list. After what happened this week, he had no doubt Samantha Sterling would be happy to remove him, right off the face of the earth.

He arrived just in time for roll call. Charlene Albach, the owner of the restaurant, was bringing the contestants to the little stage at the end of the bar, one by one. Judging by the hoots and applause as each man took his place, it appeared that the contestants had all brought their cheering sections.

”Joe Coyote,” she called, and Blake's old football buddy limped self-consciously up to the stage while Lauren Belgado and a girlfriend cheered him on. He knew Joe and Lauren had been seeing each other. Things had to be pretty serious for her to be able to talk quiet old Joe into something like this.

”Bill Williams.”

The bar erupted with screams and clapping as the c.o.c.ky cowboy in a Western s.h.i.+rt and jeans tight enough to show off his package swaggered up to the stage. Bill was obviously a crowd favorite and Blake couldn't help glancing in Samantha Sterling's direction to see if the guy was a favorite of hers. Apparently not. She was frowning.

”Blake Preston.”

Now Samantha looked as if she'd just drunk vinegar and Blake felt his face catching fire as all eyes turned to him. Lauren seemed surprised but she and her girlfriend dutifully clapped and cheered along with a couple of other women.

”Sorry, I'm not competing,” he called.

”Oh, come on. No chickening out,” Charlene teased, clearly enjoying his discomfort. She started the crowd chanting, ”Blake, Blake, Blake.”

He shook his head and moved to Samantha's table, seating himself next to her. She bristled at his arrival.

The crowd gave up and moved on to fresh meat and, under cover of the loud talk and laughter, Samantha hissed, ”This table is taken.”