Silver Linings

too much attention. A young man in a white Navy uniform leered and let out a loud wolf whistle. Hugh glowered at him and reached for Mattie's arm.
    “What the devil do you think you're up to, Mattie?” he demanded as he pinned her to his side.
    “Just going out for a bite to eat.” She smiled at a man who was trying up a sailboat. The man's mouth fell open and he stopped work to stare. “Isn't this amazing, Hugh? Evangeline is right. Red is definitely my color.”
    “Babe, the way that dress is cut, it wouldn't matter what color it was.” He realized she was enjoying herself. “Look, I don't want to rain on your parade, but it's not exactly safe for you to be running around in that outfit.”
    She looked up at him with innocently widened eyes. “Why ever not, Hugh? After all, I've got you along to protect me, don't I?”
    He exhaled on a low groan. Then he decided two could play at that game. “Who's going to protect you from me, babe?”
    “No problem. You've seen me in less and you weren't exactly overwhelmed, were you?”
    “If you misjudge other men as badly as you misjudge me, you're going to be in a lot of trouble.”
    “Nonsense.” She patted his arm with condescending affection. “We both know you'll behave yourself. What would Aunt Charlotte say if I told her you'd gotten out of line?”
    He tightened his grip on her arm. “You ought to know better than to wave a threat at me, babe,” he warned softly. “I only answer to Charlotte when it comes to business. She doesn't have anything to do with the rest of my life.”
    “Tough talk.” Mattie gave a gurgle of husky laughter. “But I don't believe a word of it. What would you do if you didn't get all those nice, lucrative assignments to clean up little messes around the world for Vailcourt?”
    “I'd spend more time on my own business.” Hugh abruptly decided against dragging her back to the room. A sexy, teasing Mattie was a wonderful thing. He had never seen her in quite this mood, and he realized he did not really want to squelch it. She was having too much fun and—if he played his cards right—so could he.
    He steered her toward the open-air tavern at the end of the street. There was no absolutely safe place to take her tonight. Brimstone was full of sailors, and even at their best, the local taverns and bars tended to be rough. He would just have to make certain everyone realized she was private property.
    “And just what is this mysterious business of yours, Hugh? It's got something to do with airplanes, doesn't it?” Mattie clung to his arm, practically draped over it as she gazed up at him with wide, inquiring eyes.
    “I told you, I'm building up a charter business on St. Gabe.” He eased her through the tavern's entrance and was immediately aware of the sensation Mattie caused. Catcalls and whistles echoed from one end of the long bar to the other. Hugh wondered if he was going to get through the evening without a fight. “This is really stupid,” he muttered as he aimed Mattie toward a booth near the railing.
    “It's fun.” Mattie slid across the vinyl seat, exposing another three inches of thigh. “I feel good tonight. I think it's a new me. I'll have a rum punch, please.”
    “You'll have dinner,” Hugh informed her.
    “What a grouch. Very well. Dinner first. And then a rum punch.”
    “We'll drink it back in the room,” Hugh decided, giving the man at the end of the bar his coldest glance. The man, who had been staring intently at Mattie, heaved an obvious sigh of regret and turned back to his drink.
    “A beer for me,” Hugh told the middle-aged waitress. “And a cola for the lady. Then a couple of hamburgers. Big ones. Make mine a double.”
    Mattie smiled past his shoulder up at the waitress. “I'd like to make a couple of changes in my order, please. I'll have fruit juice instead of cola. And put some rum in it, will you, please? And instead of a hamburger, I'll have a salad. And, um, let's see, what else have you got that doesn't have meat in it?”
    “No meat? You want fish instead?” the woman asked.
    “No pieces of dead animal of any kind,” Mattie stipulated. “I don't eat dead meat. And neither should he,” she added, patting Hugh's arm. “One of these days I'll cure him of the habit.”
    The waitress looked bemused. She glanced at Hugh for guidance. When he simply shrugged in resignation, she looked at Mattie again. “We've got French fries. You want some of those?”
    “All right,”