The woman tilted her head, batting her eyes. “I just know I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
Killian opened his mouth, and from the look on his face, Poppy suspected his next comment wasn’t going to be even as polite as his last ones. So Poppy spoke first.
“You probably recognize him from television.”
The woman’s eyes widened with dawning excitement, acknowledging Poppy for the first time.
“Television?” she said, her attention coming right back to Killian.
Killian was paying total attention to Poppy. He narrowed his eyes at her before the woman began her barrage of questions.
“What do you do on TV? Do you have your own show? Have you been in movies?”
Killian shook his head. “I’m not really—”
“He’s not really one to brag,” Poppy finished for him. “He’s got his own show about the paranormal. He’s a paranormal investigator.”
The woman raised her perfectly tweezed brows. “Really? That’s such an interesting job.”
“Isn’t it?” Poppy agreed.
Killian shot Poppy an aggravated scowl. Poppy smiled back.
Oh, Poppy was enjoying this way too much.
Killian glared at her, and her smile only widened. That cute little dimple in her left cheek appeared. Some of his irritation faded. She really was lovely. Pale skin, those dark eyes that drew him in. And that smile. That impish smile.
“Tell her about your research, Killian,” she said, her eyes sparkling like dark smoky quartz.
He narrowed a glare at her again, then turned back to the redhead beside him. Really, the woman was quite attractive. She definitely filled out her clothing perfectly with ample breasts and flared hips.
But as he looked at her, he found himself thinking about smaller breasts and subtler curves.
Damn it. He was doing it again. He could not be attracted to Poppy.
Yet he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at her again. She still grinned, clearly amused by his discomfort at dealing with this woman.
Well, maybe he should show her. Would she be so amused if he turned all his attention to Jessica Rabbit here?
“I am in Boston to research places where there are reputed hauntings. For a television show I’m developing.”
The redhead nodded, her grayish-green eyes wide with interest.
“That’s exciting.”
“Yes,” he said. “I had a show that was very popular in Sweden. It was one of the top-rated shows every week it aired.”
“Really? And you are from Sweden?”
He nodded.
Quickly the conversation with the redhead took off, although he was only half aware of what she was saying. The other half was fully attuned to Poppy.
Poppy sat listening and, at first, he didn’t think she was bothered by the interaction between them. But gradually, he noticed Poppy start to fidget. Her foot tapped on one of the rungs of the stool. She looked around. She checked her cell phone. Once he thought he heard her sigh.
Finally, she interrupted them.
“I’m running to the restroom. Would you mind ordering me another pinot noir?”
Killian nodded, acting as if he could barely drag himself away from the redhead’s scintillating conversation.
But as Poppy slid off the stool and started toward the back of the bar, he couldn’t stop himself from watching her. The subtle, lissome sway of her hips, the delicious curve of her backside.
His body reacted, and he had to shift on his seat.
“So is she a friend?” the redhead asked, the question almost comical given what he was feeling at the moment.
He looked back to the woman. “Yes. She is.”
The woman, whom he thought was named Lisa. Maybe Liza. Liz? Whatever her name was, she smiled.
“Well, she’s a lucky woman to have a friend like you.”
Killian frowned. What did that even mean?
He glanced toward the back of the bar. Poppy was gone.
He suddenly wondered why he’d been bothering to talk to this woman. To make Poppy jealous? That wasn’t the goal of the night.
Right now, he just wanted to get rid of this woman.
“Actually,” he found himself saying to the redhead, “Poppy is my girlfriend.”
“She is?” The woman didn’t look convinced.
“Yes.”
The redhead placed a hand on her hip. “A man like you? With a mousy little thing like her?”
Killian stared at the woman, stunned by her tactlessness. Which was something, given whom she was talking to.
He didn’t even hesitate.
The woman blinked, but then mumbled some reason to excuse herself, although she clearly didn’t understand why she was doing so.
Killian nodded, then turned back to the bar before she had even walked away.
Good riddance. He was here for Poppy. And he would stay focused on his task from now on.
Poppy walked into the women’s room, fighting the urge to kick the door of one of the bathroom stalls. Why had she actually encouraged that woman?
Now she was going to spend the evening listening to those two chatter and laugh, while she sat there like some dull little wallflower. And all because she thought she was going to somehow make him uncomfortable.
Did people who looked like those two ever feel uncomfortable?
She wandered over to the mirror and stared at her reflection. She turned her head one way, then the other. She knew she looked better than she usually did. But when compared to people like Killian and that woman out there—well, she was just a plain Jane at best.
She studied herself a moment longer, then she opened her purse and pulled out a tube of clear lip gloss. She dabbed some on her lips, rubbing them together. She fluffed her hair, wishing the fine tresses had more body.
Ah, well, tonight wasn’t about her anyway. This was Killian’s time to find a new love interest—so encouraging him to chat with other women was exactly what she needed to do.
Maybe she’d find some guy to chat up, not that the idea appealed to her much. But she straightened her posture and lifted her chin.
This wasn’t about her, but she wasn’t going to look like some pathetic tagalong of Killian’s. She was going to smile and laugh too.
As she stepped out of the ladies’ room, she saw Killian. He was hard to miss. He was like a golden angel. His light brown hair reflected gold highlights in the low lamplight. His skin was warm and golden too. And although she couldn’t see his eyes from here, she knew their color as if she’d looked into them all her life. A golden amber. Molten and beautiful.
Suddenly, Killian was blocked from view, and Poppy collided with someone or something.
“Oh!” she said, her hands shooting out to balance herself. Hands at her hips did the same thing, and she registered it was a
“I’m sor—” she started, looking up to see a man with a bald head, wire-rimmed glasses, a goatee and blue eyes that Poppy hadn’t seen for years, but still recognized as if she’d just seen them yesterday.
“Sorry,” he said, then those blue eyes grew huge behind his glasses. “Poppy? Poppy Reed?”
