Unfortunately, the man's prayers were only half answered. Katie was self-absorbed - ah hell, she idled at self-absorbed - but she also made a living by being observant. Granted, adults weren't really her forte, but she wasn't the sort to miss much. She was far too big of a control freak to not try and figure out what was going on around her. And his ears were turning red.
It could have been the heat. (Doubtful, the man looked like he did hard labor all day. He was probably used to it.) It could have been that her mere presence was making him uncomfortable. (She was used to that sort of reaction.) But flushing?
I'm pretty sure I saw a dirty movie in college that started this way. Oh, jeez. Now would be the absolute wrong time to laugh. That was simply not acceptable. She smiled politely, doubted he was paying attention, and silently excused herself to the bedroom. She hurried to her handbag on the bed, found the bottle of Xanax, and popped two. To hell with sobriety.
She felt marginally relieved, just knowing in twenty minutes or so she wouldn't care if she sweat to death, but that still left her with the decision of what to do with herself until he was done. She wasn't leaving him alone in the room. That would just never be an option for anyone. And she couldn't stay in the bedroom, there was no fresh air. Oh, this is ridiculous. We're all adults, and he should have no problem doing his job with a bloody audience. So she stood straight, smoothed her skirt, and returned to the sitting room. She did concede slightly. Rather than sit facing him, she stood at the open balcony doors, doing everything in her power to mentally summon up a breeze.