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plush maroon carpet in the hallway her stomach was all aflutter. Now she knew she should have realized how out of place she was going to feel staying in this hotel all alone. What if she drew attention to herself because she dined by herself? Would someone begin to wonder why she had even considered coming to a place like Bermuda unaccompanied? Obviously, Mr. Meredith hadn't thought she would be outrageously conspicuous, she told herself firmly. If he had thought so, he would have sent someone with her.
    Logical as that thought was, it did little to reassure her. As she entered the large, high-ceilinged dining room and stood waiting to be seated she felt very much alone. A nervous little smile hovered on her lips as a somber-looking maitre d' approached. With a cool flick of his wrist he indicated that she should follow him. Luckily, he didn't parade her across the entire dining room. Instead, he led her to a corner table near the balcony, next to the wall, where she at least felt less exposed to everyone's view.
    "Will someone be joining you, miss?" the maitre d' asked aloofly, his accent unmistakably British. "Or will you be dining alone?"
    "Alone," she murmured, adjusting her skirt as she sat down in the chair he pulled out for her. "Thank you."
    "Enjoy your meal, miss," he said, but before he turned to go his gaze drifted down in discreet appreciation of the slender length of leg exposed by the slit of her straight skirt.
    So, despite his very proper demeanor, he was human. Allendre was amused, but she suppressed her smile until after he had turned away. As she took a small sip of ice water she glanced around the dining room, dismayed that she didn't see anyone else who was sitting alone. Most tables were occupied by young couples, probably honeymooners. A few family groups were scattered around here and there, and there were a few pairs of older ladies, like Myrtle and her friend, who smiled and waved at Allendre when she looked their way. She waved back, nearly tempted to go ask if she could join them. But she decided against it, not knowing whether or not they'd really want her company. Ah, well, if she could make it through this first meal alone without feeling too self-conscious, she would feel much more comfortable the next time. She was sure of it.
    A few minutes later, as she nibbled a tiny bite of the smoked salmon appetizer, she glanced up curiously when she became aware of someone standing just behind her chair.
    "Good evening, Allie," Ric Shannon said, his voice low as he pulled out the chair on the opposite side of her table. "Mind if I join you a moment?"
    The bite of salmon seemed to lodge itself in her throat, and she took a quick sip of water to help it along. "No, of course I don't mind. Please sit down." A slight warmth crept into her cheeks as his eyes swept over the creamy skin exposed above the moderately low-cut bodice of her dress. Determined not to appear as flustered as she felt, she forced herself to examine him carefully, too. Ric's sand-colored suit was perfectly tailored to the broad sweep of his shoulders, its color accentuating his dark tan. Disconcerted by the direction her thoughts were taking, she dragged her gaze from the strong contours of his face. His expression was one of smug pleasure. He had been well aware of her inspection—and her apparent approval.
    "I wanted to apologize personally for this afternoon," he said, relaxing back in his chair. "I hope everything was satisfactory after you were finally shown to your room."
    "Oh, yes, I only had to wait a few minutes before my luggage arrived," she assured him, though she was somehow disappointed that his inquiry was only a business courtesy. "And of course I think the room is perfectly lovely."
    He nodded, unsmiling. "Even so, if you have any more problems with any of the staff, I want to hear about it right away. Okay?"
    "Okay, but I'm sure there won't be many problems as long as you're here," she said wryly. "Maybe they were just