“Would you like some more?” asked Derek

Candice shook her head and leaned away from the sparkling dinner table. “Wish I could.”

“So?”

“What?” She feigned confusion, hoping that he’d forgotten their bet of a kiss for every point out of ten that he earned with this meal.

“How many points are we talking?” He cocked an eyebrow and grinned.

“I could…give you a zero.”

“You could.” He gazed at her knowingly.

“Oh, man.” Candice closed her eyes and raised a hand to her forehead. She couldn’t believe she was about to do this. Her nemesis, her archrival, and she was going to have to…pay him a compliment, not to mention—

“Zero to ten,” Derek said softly.

“Ten,” she whispered, and puckered her lips.

Note from the editor…

An Evening To Remember… Those words evoke all kinds of emotions and memories. How do you plan a romantic evening with your guy that will help you get in touch with each other on every level?

Start with a great dinner that you cook together. Be sure to light several candles and put fresh flowers on the table. Enjoy a few glasses of wine and pick out your favorite music to set the mood. After dinner take the time to really talk to each other. Hold hands and snuggle on the sofa in front of the fireplace. And maybe take a few minutes to read aloud selected sexy scenes from your favorite Harlequin Temptation novel. After that, anything can happen….

That’s just one way to have an evening to remember. There are so many more. Write and tell us how you keep the spark in your relationship. And don’t forget to check out our Web site at www.eHarlequin.com.

Sincerely,

Birgit Davis-Todd

Executive Editor

High Stakes

Barbara Dunlop

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

Here’s the final story of the Reeves-DuCarter brothers. From the moment brother Derek appeared in Next to Nothing! to give his baby brother hell and his middle brother sage advice in Flying High, I’ve known that when Derek’s turn came, he was going to fall fast and he was going to fall hard.

Sure enough, Candice Hammond, the daughter of his archenemy, rocked Derek’s world. He’s used to being in charge, yet she challenges him at every turn. The woman is his intellectual and emotional match, and she’s going toe to toe with the millionaire entrepreneur until he gives her everything she wants. Which is also everything he wants, though he doesn’t know it yet.

I truly hope you enjoy the Reeves-DuCarter brothers. They’ve been a delight for me to live with and I’m thrilled to be able to share them. I’d love to hear from you at www.barbaradunlop.com.

Best,

Barbara Dunlop

Books by Barbara Dunlop

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

848—FOREVER JAKE

901—NEXT TO NOTHING!*

940—TOO CLOSE TO CALL

1006—FLYING HIGH*

HARLEQUIN FLIPSIDE

22—OUT OF ORDER

HARLEQUIN DUETS

54—THE MOUNTIE STEALS A WIFE

90—A GROOM IN HER STOCKING

98—THE WISH-LIST WIFE

To Dad.

With appreciation, admiration and love.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

1

YOU’RE ALWAYS THE BEST MAN, but never the groom…. ” Derek Reeves’s brother Tyler propped his elbows on the terrace guardrail outside the ballroom of the Quayside Hotel. Orchestra music and muted laughter from their middle brother, Striker’s, wedding reception wafted through the open French doors into the clear September night.

Derek grinned to himself. He’d admit to feeling a little smug about being the Reeves family’s sole remaining bachelor. He turned his back on the rose garden, the marble fountain and Lake Washington and imitated his brother’s pose. “Jealous?” he asked.

Tyler’s gaze strayed through the open doors to where Jenna, his wife of three months, chatted with the other bridesmaids. There was a thread of incredulous laughter in his voice. “Not hardly.”

Derek took a swig of his ice water. He had to admit that Jenna was great. So was Erin, Striker’s new bride. But they were still wives. They had needs, demands and agendas. Derek was planning to be his own man for a long time to come.

Tyler nodded at the water. “You the designated driver or something?”

Derek shook his head. “I’m expecting a call from Tokyo.”

“You brought your cell phone to your brother’s wedding?”

“I turned it off during the ceremony.”

“We have got to get you a life.”

“By life, I’m assuming you mean a ball and chain of my own? Misery may love company, little brother, but I don’t think so.”

Tyler raised his glass of Scotch in a mock toast. “Come on in, the water’s fine.”

The wind picked up off the lake, bringing with it the scent of roses, as Derek slid his brother a skeptical gaze. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m perfectly happy on my own.”

“How do you know?”

Derek frowned. “What kind of a question is that?”

“When’s the last time you had a steady girlfriend?”

“Define steady.”

“Longer than eight hours.”

The frown turned to another grin. It had been a while. Which meant Derek’s life was ticking along exactly the way he liked it. “Few months. Maybe a year.”

“We need to find you a nice girl to bring home to Mom.”

Derek let out a chopped laugh at the sappy expression on Tyler’s face. “There’s nothing worse than a reformed bachelor.”

“Hey, I’m being serious here.”

“So am I. If I want a woman, I’ll find a woman. No offense, bro, but I don’t need your help on the romance front.”

Tyler snorted. “Romance? I think they’re called one-night stands.”

“And your point is…”

“My point is, you’re hanging out with the wrong kind of women.”

“Well, the right kind of woman sure isn’t going to hang out with me.”

Derek had been in Europe three times this month. He had to be in Japan on the fifth. And if he didn’t figure out a way to salvage that electronics deal they’d just lost to Hammond Electronics, he’d be drumming up wireless business in rural Brazil. He somehow suspected most nice girls would insist he spend at least half his life on the North American continent.

“You never know,” said Tyler, making a show of sizing Derek up. “They might be able to get past your looks.”

“Nice try, pretty boy.”

Tyler laughed.

“The rest of you shareholders should be grateful I’ve stayed single.”

“Why?”

“The minute I have a little woman at home, the bottom line’s going to suffer.”

Tyler clicked his teeth, shook his head and gave Derek a pitying look.

“Don’t get sarcastic with me,” said Derek. “Women dilute a man’s focus. They want him to cater to their little whims, bring home presents, talk about their feelings.”

“Not all women are like that. Jenna’s not like that.”

“Yeah? When’s the last time you two spent an evening apart?”

Tyler glanced toward the ballroom again.

“A week?” asked Derek. “A month? Anytime since the wedding?”

“It’s not because I can’t—”

“Right,” Derek drawled, knowing he’d easily won the round. Time to move the conversation along. “So while you were busy cuddling and whispering sweet nothings, did Jenna happen to say anything about the Lighthouse renovations?”

The Lighthouse Restaurant was a showpiece on the top floor of the family-owned Quayside Hotel. It was being renovated by Jenna and Candice Hammond’s company, Canna Interiors.

“She says you and Candice have been fighting again,” said Tyler.

“How could I fight with Candice? I’ve been in London for the past three days.”

“Candice obviously didn’t notice you were gone. She kept right on fighting.”

“Only way she can win,” Derek muttered.

“You do realize that you two are driving Jenna nuts.”

“So get Jenna to talk to Candice.” It wasn’t Derek’s fault that Candice was impossible.

“Candice says you’re micromanaging.”

Like hell. “I’m making sure Candice Hammond doesn’t blow three and a half million of my dollars.”

“They’re a reputable company.”

“She’s out for revenge.”

“Why?”

“Because you and I lied to them.”

“Jenna and I are happily married. Candice isn’t mad anymore.”

“She may not be mad at you, but she’s still plotting against me.”

“You’re paranoid.”

Derek took another swallow of his water. Paranoia was a highly underrated quality in a corporate executive. It had saved Derek’s ass more than once. “Just because I’m paranoid, doesn’t mean she’s not out to get me.”

“GET IT, CANDICE!” cried Jenna as Erin tossed the bridal bouquet over her head toward the middle of the Quayside ballroom.

Candice cringed when she realized it was coming in her direction. She faded to the back of the pack, vowing to thank Jenna later for calling even more attention to her single, relationship-less, dateless status. Cream-colored roses and pale orchids arced gracefully toward the domed ceiling, far above the heads of young women who’d gathered in a cluster.

That Erin had some arm on her.

Candice took another step back, then another and another. The women in front of her stretched up, their fingertips just missing the ribbon streamers as the bouquet’s trajectory brought it back toward earth.

They were all missing, turning, frowning…

Candice’s eyes widened in disbelief. Who would have thought Erin could toss that puppy thirty-five feet? Despite her efforts to avoid it, the huge bouquet zeroed in on her like radar. It plunked against her chest, and her arms automatically went around it.

Jenna dashed over from the sidelines, cheering madly in her apricot bridesmaid dress and high heels. Tiny sprigs of baby’s breath jiggled in her upswept hair. “Great catch,” she sang.

“Gee, thanks.”

Jenna laughed. “Now all we need to do is find you a man.”

Candice quickly shifted the bouquet to one hand, lowering it and tucking it behind her thigh, trying to shake the feeling that all eyes in the room were on her. Why didn’t somebody just write up a big Loser sign and paste it to her forehead?

It wasn’t that she had any particular interest in getting married. It was more that the world at large seemed to think twenty-seven was too old to be single. Like she was some kind of wrinkled spinster.

Jenna scanned the room. “Let’s see. Not too tall. Somebody with good career prospects. We want patience and a good sense of humor, since you can be—” She abruptly snapped her mouth shut.

“Since I can be what?” asked Candice, eyeing up her friend and business partner. Even wearing a satin gown and baby’s breath, Jenna still managed to look calculating.

Jenna didn’t answer.

“Are you suggesting I’m grumpy?” asked Candice.

“Testy.”

“Testy?”

The single men lined up for the garter toss, and Jenna took Candice by the arm, pulling her aside. “Only sometimes.”

Candice was more than happy to vacate center stage. She looked around for a nearby table to abandon the bouquet. If she was lucky, one of the eager, single ladies would steal it. “I’m never testy,” she said.

Jenna patted her arm. “I’m thinking about you and Derek.”

Candice rolled her eyes at the mention of Derek’s name. She and Jenna had been working on the Lighthouse Restaurant renovation for three months now, and he’d been her shadow—like she couldn’t be trusted. Well, she had news for him. He’d lied to her, not the other way around.

“He’s the testy one,” she said to Jenna.

“Only when you’re around.”

Oh, sure, like it was Candice’s fault. “He’s arrogant, overbearing, bossy and conceited.”

Jenna smiled. “Yeah. But in a good way.”

A roar rose from the crowd of men as Erin’s garter sailed through the air. A hand shot up and snagged it. The successful man let out a whoop and made a big show of twirling it around his index finger. At least somebody was happy about being publicly tagged as next.

Jenna tilted her head and checked out the garter catcher. “Maybe you just need to get laid.”

Candice wasn’t sure she’d heard right. “Excuse me?”

“After three months of marriage, I can highly recommend it.”

“Over-sharing,” said Candice.

Jenna grinned, nodding toward the group of men. “I bet any one of them would be willing—”

Candice took a backward step. “Think I’ll go up and check on the Lighthouse.”

“What’s to check? You’re off duty, and we’re setting you up here.”

There was no way in the world Candice was hanging around while Jenna set her up. She tried to pull her arm from Jenna’s grasp. “I want to make sure the paneling was delivered.”

Jenna’s hand tightened. “It’s not like you’ll be able to do anything about it before Monday.”

Candice reached out to disentangle Jenna’s fingers. “I’ll sleep better if I take a quick look. You go ahead and scope out prospects while I’m gone.”

Jenna brightened. “Really?”

“Sure. Why not?” Since Candice had no intention of coming back to the wedding reception, Jenna could scope to her heart’s content. Candice wasn’t even planning to go up to the restaurant. Just as soon as she was out of sight, she was heading for the main door of the lobby and grabbing a taxi.

“See you later.” She started in the direction of the express elevator that serviced the rooftop restaurant. As she walked, she kept an eye on Jenna to gauge the best moment for her escape.

Not quite yet. Tyler had appeared out of the crowd, and both he and Jenna focused on Candice. They exchanged a few words, and then Tyler’s eyes lit up. They both waved happily.

Jenna had obviously enlisted his aid. How humiliating.

Candice gave them a brittle smile and waved back, making a show of pressing the elevator button. Unfortunately, the elevator was parked on the ballroom floor, and the doors immediately opened. She had no choice but to step inside.

Then the doors slid shut behind her, blocking out the orchestra and the buzz of conversation. She sighed in relief as she leaned against the cool wall, resting her hands on the metal rail, tipping her head back. It was nice in here.

The elevator rushed smoothly upward. Through the outer glass wall, Candice could see the black lake, the stars and the lights of Seattle.

She loved the Quayside. As the major shareholder, Derek was a major pain, but the building was beautiful. It was a stunning example of mid-twentieth century red brick and terra-cotta.

She and Jenna’s decorating business, Canna Interiors, was just getting established in Seattle, so they were taking every job they were offered. But Candice hoped they’d be able to specialize in historic buildings like the Quayside. They were the city’s heart and soul.

The doors slid open on the fortieth floor, and she decided she’d better kill a little time before going back down to escape. She left the elevator, and her footsteps echoed on the raw plywood as she made her way down the hall.

The entire floor was closed for renovation. The paneling had been delivered, but then she’d already known that. Sheets of plywood, stacks of wood paneling and cans of paint were clustered against the foyer walls.

She passed through the big, antique double doors that led into the dining room. The wallboard had been peeled back to reveal arched window openings, and the glaziers had just finished installing new windows. The view of the city was spectacular.

Abandoning the bouquet on a sawhorse, she squinted around the room, picturing antique light fixtures, turn-of-the-century paintings, white tablecloths, hurricane lamps and fine china. Her gaze caught and held on the half-finished wine rack, apprehension sliding through her stomach. Something wasn’t right.

She started toward it.

Lifting the plans from the raw wood top, she read the hand-scrawled note stapled to one corner. She stifled the urge to scream. She’d given specific instructions on the placement and the dimensions of the wine rack. But Derek had undermined her authority, yet again.

She crumpled the note in a tight fist. He might be the reason she and Jenna had this job in the first place, but she had to put a stop to the man’s meddling. Forget cutting out on the reception, maybe she’d go back to the ballroom and track him down. Track him down, corner him and set the ground rules once and for all.

As she formulated a scathing lecture, the elevator doors down the hall whirred open. Measured, masculine footsteps headed along the passageway toward her. Perfect. Jenna had sent up a date. Could the evening get any worse?

She started toward the double doors, intent on sending the hapless man away. But when Derek appeared, she stopped short.

Tall, broad-shouldered and athletic, his strong chin, aristocratic nose and piercing blue eyes combined with his wealth and power to give him anything he wanted in life.

But not this time.

Not with her.

He froze, hitting her with a narrow-eyed, suspicious gaze. “What are you doing up here?”

“At the moment, I’m trying to figure out how much damage you’ve done.”

He continued toward her, imposing in his best man tux. “What are you talking about? What damage?”

As he grew closer, she was glad to be wearing three-inch heels.

Drawing herself up, refusing to be intimidated, she folded her arms across her chest and nodded at the wine rack. “Take a look at that.”

Before focusing on the wine rack, Derek’s gaze stopped for a moment on the empty doorway, a puzzled frown forming on his face. Then he moved on. “I don’t see any damage.”

The muscles in the back of her neck tensed, and her voice went up an octave. “Of course you don’t. Because you have no clue what we’re doing here.”

“I know exactly what we’re doing here. We’re renovating my restaurant.”

Candice stepped closer to the wine rack, gesturing to the base with an open hand. “Are you trying to waste money?”

“I’m trying to save money.”

“False economy.”

Derek’s full mouth curved up in a cynical grin. “How many millions do you suppose have been wasted using that logic?”

“You have trust issues, you know that?”

“I trust people.”

“Uh-huh.”

“As long as they’re within my sight.”

Candice pointed at him and then pointed to her chest. “You lied to me, remember?”

“And you threatened to waste my money.”

“Because you’d told us you were Derek Reeves—”

“I am Derek Reeves.”

“Being Derek Reeves is quite different than being Derek Reeves-DuCarter.”

“You never fessed up to being Candice Hammond, either.”

Candice had to admit, it was odd they’d gone two weeks without realizing each other’s identity. She’d heard about the Reeves-DuCarters all her life, had known they were in competition with her father, had even met Derek’s father at a party or two. Still, she hadn’t put it together.

“I never lied about who I was,” she said.

“No,” Derek agreed. “It was Tyler that kept that little tidbit to himself.”

“So pick on your brother, and leave me alone.”

“I can’t leave you alone.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re mad enough to waste my money.”

“I’m also professional enough to fix your mistakes.”

Derek shook his head, coughing out a cold laugh.

Candice shimmied into a crouch position, pointing to the base of the wine rack to prove her point. “You know the marble top’s precut?”

He crouched beside her. “So?”

“So, exhibit A, you had them build the base two feet off. That’s false economy, because we’re going to have to rip it out and start over again.”

“That’s faulty logic. Because I just moved the wine rack. I didn’t change the dimensions.”

“If you’d bothered to read the plans, you’d know we have to recess it into the wall.”

“I did bother to read the plans. They told me you wanted to rebuild an entire wall for the sake of two feet.”

She raised her eyebrows. There was a master plan at work here. Details mattered. Something Derek obviously didn’t grasp. “Your point is?”

He straightened and held out his hand. “You’re scary, you know that?”

She ignored his unspoken offer. But halfway up, her toe caught on the hem of her dress and she stumbled. He caught her arm to steady her.

The feel of his calluses against her skin sent an instant shock wave through her body. She gritted her teeth against the sensation. “You’re the scary one.” What with his drive-by style of executive interference, and…

She shook off his hand.

“Because I catch you when you fall?” His deep voice rumbled close to her ear.

She took a quick step away from him, remembering the last time he’d touched her, spoken to her in that vibrating, intimate tone that made her blood dance. It was three months ago, on that silly carnival ride, the Tunnel of Love. It was the day she found out he was a fraud. The day they’d found out Tyler was spying on Jenna.

She shook off the memory, rubbing his touch away from her bare arm. “Do you want a five-star restaurant or a diner?”

“Oh, definitely a diner,” he drawled, cocking his head sideways.

“Well, you’re well on your way.”

“You are so melodramatic.”

“You are so naive.”

His eyes widened at that one.

She began counting off on her fingertips. “We have an artist on retainer. We’ve consulted on the marble pattern. We’ve already bought paintings for the recessed wall. The lines on the marble will flow perfectly toward the pillars, emphasize the mini atrium and the windows—”

“You may have a heady, artistic vision, but I have an obligation to the other shareholders.”

“To ruin the renovation?”

“To make sure Reeves-DuCarter worldwide share prices don’t plummet when the financial markets hear how much you’re spending on a wine rack.”

“It’s the focal point of the entire room—”

“Hey, Derek.”

Candice clamped her mouth shut and drew back at the sound of Tyler Reeves’s voice.

“There you are,” said Derek. “I thought you’d died in the hallway.”

“Can I borrow your cell phone?” asked Tyler.

Candice glanced from man to man. Both were tall and broad shouldered, with short dark hair and those startling blue eyes. Tyler was slightly slimmer, and he always looked a whole lot happier.

“Did the reception move up here?” she asked.

It was one thing for her to duck out on Erin and Striker. She was just another wedding guest. But Derek and Tyler were in their brother’s wedding party.

“I just need to check on something,” said Tyler, holding out his hand for the phone.

Derek looked confused, but he reached into the pocket of his tux jacket. “Yeah…Sure…”

“Thanks,” Tyler nodded, taking Derek’s phone and heading back out the door.

“No problem,” said Derek.

Candice wondered why Tyler hadn’t used a house phone downstairs. There had to be a hundred of them.

While she puzzled over his presence, he paused in the doorway. Then turned back to face them, tapping the phone against the bottom of his chin. His expression shifted from affable to stern.

“You two are upsetting my wife,” he said.

“Upsetting Jenna?” asked Candice, instantly worried. Jenna had been fine when she’d left her ten minutes ago. It couldn’t be that important to her that Candice get a date.

Tyler reached for the two doors. “And I’ve decided you need some time alone together to work things out.” He quickly pulled the doors shut and clicked the dead bolt into place.

“What the hell?” Derek was at the doors in three long strides. “Tyler? My phone!”

“Jenna suggested a time-out,” came Tyler’s muffled voice from the other side of the solid oak.

“Time-out from what?” called Derek.

“Like in kindergarten. You two kids see about settling your differences before the crew shows up on Monday.”

2

SETTLE THEIR DIFFERENCES? Candice darted a glance at Derek’s rock-hard jaw and narrowed eyes. “What does he mean Monday?”

Derek’s lips thinned, but he didn’t answer.

She quickly turned her attention to the dead bolt. It was keyed from both sides, and she didn’t have a key.

Tyler had locked them in the restaurant.

“Tyler?” she asked hopefully, moving up against the oak, testing the knob. “Uh, Tyler?”

No reply.

Derek let out an exasperated curse. “I don’t think he’s out there.”

“He’ll be back,” she said, nodding confidently, stepping back and gazing up at the oversized doors. “This has to be a joke.”

“I didn’t hear Tyler laughing.”

“Jenna won’t let him leave us here.”

“What makes you think he’ll tell Jenna?”

“Well…Because…” Candice hated to admit it, but that was a good question.

Brushing past her, Derek tested the knob, then he rattled the doors. “I sincerely doubt he’ll tell her.”

“She’s his wife. Isn’t there something in the wedding vows about honesty?”

Derek stepped back beside her to survey the doors. He let out a hard sigh, shaking his head in pity, voice dropping to that intimate timbre. “Candy, Candy, Candy—”

“I asked you not to call me that.”

“Tyler thinks he’s saving Jenna.”

“Well, that would be your fault.”

Derek held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “How is it my fault?”

“Jenna’s frustrated, because you keep picking fights, undermining my instructions—”

“I do have veto power.”

“Over the stain color? The wainscoting? The positioning of the wine rack?” If Derek would just let her do her job, they wouldn’t be in this fix. She was really quite easy to get along with.

“Over any little thing I want,” he said.

“You have taken things way beyond the spirit of the contract.”

“Your threatening to bankrupt me takes things beyond the spirit of the contract.”

“I did not threaten bankrupting you.” Candice folded her arms across her chest. “I am a professional.”

He gave a dry chuckle. “You said, and I quote, ‘I have a contract for three-point-five million of your dollars, and I intend to spend every cent.’”

Candice shifted uncomfortably. “I was upset.” It hadn’t been the most professional moment of her career. But, Derek did that to her.

He ran his fingers around the seams of the doors. “The true measure of a professional isn’t what she does when things are going well.”

“You don’t think you and Tyler lying to us, conspiring against us, hiding your identities amounts to extraordinary circumstances.”

“Tyler was working undercover.”

“Tyler was also sleeping with Jenna.”

“She seems to have forgiven him.”

“He deserved to be forgiven.”

Derek stared at her in silence for a moment. “Unlike me.”

“You’re still a problem, Derek.”

“We’re still locked in a restaurant, Candy.”

“It’s Candice.”

He grinned.

“Okay, fine. You’re right. Let’s table it for now.”

He nodded in agreement. “We can always pick up the fight after we’re free.”

She nodded in return. “Deal. So, did you bring your master key?”

“Won’t fit this lock.”

“It’s a master key.”

“The door and the lock are old. And unique. We haven’t locked it in years.”

Candice eyed the carved oak slabs. “You think you could break it down?”

“It’s solid oak. Besides, isn’t it pivotal to the flow of the room or something?”

“True.” It was a feature she’d planned to use. They’d refinish it, replace the brass. Maybe change the lock in case this kind of thing ever happened again.

It would be a shame to break it. But she was starting to feel claustrophobic. Not that the room was small. In fact, it was huge. It was just that Derek took up so darn much of it.

Suddenly, inspiration hit. The kitchen. She headed across the dining room. “There’s a door through the kitchen.”

“Blocked by the new refrigeration unit,” Derek called after her.

“We should at least check it out.”

“Waste of time,” he said, but he followed.

“Pessimist,” she countered.

“Realist,” he corrected.

“Cynic.” She stopped in front of the crated refrigeration unit. It was huge. She suspected even former linebacker Derek wouldn’t be able to budge this thing.

“Jenna will be here soon,” Candice said with more confidence than she felt.

“Maybe.”

“I’m sure she’ll notice we’re missing.”

“She’s probably got her mind on her Tyler right now. I hear weddings make women feel romantic.”

Candice had to admit, Derek had a point. For some women. “Not me.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

Candice lined her hands up against the rough wooden crate and pushed as hard as she could. “I am not staying in here until Monday. I have things to do, places to go.” She had the library redecorating proposal to finish this weekend. The deadline was Wednesday and there were still a hundred details to check.

“Are you hinting that I don’t?”

“Well you’re not acting like it.” She pushed harder. For a big-time international conglomerate executive, he seemed pretty blasé about losing a huge chunk of his time.

“Candy—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Derek leaned back against a butcher’s block. “It weighs a ton.”

She glared at him as she peeled off her high heels. “Wimp.”

He straightened and opened one of the drawers under the counter, pawing through the contents. “I’m speaking literally. It weighs two thousand pounds. Sometimes you have to accept defeat.”

“How’d you ever get to be a millionaire with an attitude like that?” She turned her back on the crate and tried pushing it butt first.

“How do you manage to keep clients with an attitude like yours?”

“I’m an extremely reasonable person.”

“You’re trying to push a two thousand pound refrigeration unit in your stocking feet.”

She clamped her jaw on a small smile and stopped pushing. “That’s not unreasonable.”

He held up a carving knife, flexing the blade. “You weigh what, a hundred? It defies at least one law of physics.”

She eyed the sharp edge. “Have I annoyed you that badly?”

He frowned and tossed the knife back into the drawer. “None of these will work on countersunk screws. We may be stuck.”

“How stuck?”

“Real stuck.”

“As in you and me? All night long?”

He shot her a look that sizzled right down to her toes. “Candy—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t leave yourself wide-open like that.”

Raw energy pulsed between them for a long second. Candice felt her skin prickle and her heart rate speed up. She was suddenly short of breath.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“We have got to get out of here.”

NOW THAT WAS AN UNDERSTATEMENT. Never mind the fact that Derek had piles of work waiting on his desk, or the fact that Ray Yamamoto was about to have a cell phone conversation with Tyler, Derek and Candice were inches short of combusting at the best of times. Leave them alone for thirty-six hours and anything could happen.

She was drop-dead gorgeous in that tight purple dress. Despite himself, it wasn’t the first time he’d felt an attraction to her. She was smart. And she was feisty. And she made him stop and think, and feel, and want….

Spending the night alone together was foolish at best, suicidal at worst.

“I’ll go look for some tools,” he said, determined to exhaust every possibility before giving in.

“Tools?” She stepped back from the crate, her stocking-covered feet slipping against the tiled kitchen floor.

“Maybe we can take the door off the hinges,” he elaborated.

Her green eyes brightened in surprise. “That’s a good idea.”

“A compliment, Candy?”

She frowned again at the nickname, but didn’t correct him this time. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Derek chuckled as he headed back into the dining room. Candy was definitely a misnomer, given her tart personality. But he got a kick out of the way the name made her bristle.

He glanced around the dining room. Plywood, two-by-fours and sheets of foam insulation were stacked against the walls. The floor was littered with sawdust and shavings. And the dining tables were clustered in one corner, protected by a canvas tarpaulin.

The carpenters were half done, the plumbers had moved in last week, and the electricians had cut holes in everything that didn’t move.

Although it looked like the tools had been cleaned up for the weekend, Derek was hoping somebody had left something behind. He headed toward the new bank of windows overlooking the hotel boardwalk and the marina on Lake Washington. He’d definitely give Jenna and Candice points for discovering the big arched window openings. The view alone was going to increase the Lighthouse’s customer base.

He peeked under a couple of tarps and moved some plywood, hoping for an air ratchet or a stray Phillips head screwdriver. He found nothing. The tradesmen were obviously neat and well organized.

“Any luck?” asked Candice from the kitchen doorway. She’d left her shoes behind.

He wasn’t sure which was worse, the way her sleek little calves had curved down toward the skinny straps and spiky heels, or her sexy stocking-clad feet. The strapless dress revealed her smooth shoulders, and it was tight enough to prove that, despite the hard edge to her arguments, she had a body that was soft in all the right places.

Her blond hair was done up in swirls and curls, but the long evening was beginning to show on it. Wisps had worked their way free to tickle her temples and the base of her neck. She oozed tousled sensuality, and he had to drag his attention away.

“Nothing so far,” he said.

She began hunting from the other end of the room. “Why would Tyler do something this drastic?”

“He’s protecting Jenna.” Derek was trying to be charitable toward his brother, but he had to admit it was tough to keep from plotting his demise.

“He doesn’t need to protect Jenna from me. I’m her partner, her friend. I was her maid of honor for goodness’ sake.”

He lifted the last tarp, checking a makeshift construction table underneath. Sawdust, a measuring tape, a plumb line and a carpenter’s pencil. Nothing of any value to their current plight. “It’s your relationship with me that’s the problem.”

Candice stepped carefully around a couple of saw-horses. “I don’t have a relationship with you.”

“Jenna’s tired of listening to us bicker on the job site.” He frowned at Candice’s feet. There could be metal shavings and stray nails on the floor. Not to mention the danger of splinters. “You should put your shoes back on.”

“I don’t bicker. And I can’t put my shoes on.”

“Why not? The shoes part.” He could debate the bicker part all night long if necessary.

“My feet are swollen. The shoes don’t fit anymore.”

“Well then sit down.” He strode over to the corner of the dining room and pulled one of the padded restaurant chairs from under the tarp. Their red velvet upholstery was faded, and the carved walnut arms would have to be refinished, but they were still very comfortable.

Choosing a relatively clear corner near the windows, he set it down. “Last thing I need is for you to get hurt.”

“Always the gentleman.”

He retrieved a second chair, then placed one of the tables between the two. “Damn straight.”

She picked her way across the room and sat down.

He was both surprised and grateful that she finally did something he asked. He suspected there was a first-aid kit in the kitchen somewhere, but he didn’t want to have to look for it because Candy had a nail in her foot.

“Find anything we can use?” she asked.

“Nobody left a screwdriver behind,” he replied.

“And, you can’t break down the door?”

“You really want me to?”

She sighed, curling her feet beneath her, tucking the dress over her knees. “No. That would be irresponsible. It’s a great door.”

Derek sat down in the other chair. “My shoulder would probably break before the door anyway. They don’t make them like that anymore.”

“True.” She propped her elbows on the table. “You really think we’re that bad?”

“Bad how?”

“Enough of a problem to warrant this.” She gestured around the room.

“Tyler’s overreacting.”

“Maybe it is a joke. Maybe he’ll be back soon.”

Derek doubted that. “Maybe.”

Candice brightened. “Good. So, what do we do while we wait?”

“You’re asking me? I thought I was a waste of air.”

A grin sneaked out on her face. “Did I really say that?”

“More than once.”

“Goes to show you how desperate I am.”

“You hungry?” He didn’t know about Candy, but he hadn’t had a chance to eat at the reception. Since they’d exhausted all of the obvious escape plans, and sitting here twiddling their thumbs wasn’t going to do any good, they might as well make the best of their captivity.

“What do you mean hungry?” she asked. “Did Tyler leave a picnic I don’t know about?”

“We’re in a restaurant.”

She glanced toward the kitchen, forehead furrowing. “You mean we can…”

“Far as I know, it’s still in working order.” Derek rose from his chair. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Tyler would have a change of heart in a couple of hours. In the meantime, there was no need for them to starve.

She peered through the doorway. “You know how to operate that stuff? It looks pretty complicated.”

He held a hand out to her. “If you’re hungry. I’ll cook you something.”

“Really?”

“No. I’m a ogre, and I’m toying with you.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Come on.” He moved closer. “I’ll carry you over the danger zone.”

“Oh, no you won’t.”

“Don’t get all obstinate on me.” Crouching, he slipped one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees. “Not when I just got you to admit I wasn’t a waste of air.” He easily hoisted her up, settling her against his chest.

She stiffened. “I never admitted any such thing. Put me down.”

“I can put you down. But if you get a nail in your foot, we’re going to be in big trouble.”

“A nail?”

“It’s a construction site.”

She glanced suspiciously at the floor. Then her hands went around his neck. “Oh. Well. In that case. Okay.”

His footsteps echoed as he paced across the room.

After a moment, Candice relaxed against him, all supple muscles and smooth curves. Her fingers brushed rhythmically against the nape of his neck, and her soft bottom nestled against his stomach. Her skin was warm through the sheer stockings, heating his fingertips.

“Can I make a mighty steed joke?” she asked.

He sucked in a breath and tightened his grip, trying to ignore the glimpse of her creamy cleavage. “Not unless you want to leave yourself wide-open again.”

Her clear green eyes widened and an unexpected blush rose in her cheeks as the meaning of his words sank in.

Aha. Her Achilles’ heel. If he made it sexy, it kept her quiet.

He’d have to remember that.

NESTLED AGAINST Derek’s broad chest, Candice felt as though she’d tumbled into an illicit fantasy. She’d admit to admiring his body on occasion. What woman wouldn’t wonder about the feel of his sculpted muscles?

And now she knew.

They were shifting steel. Warm and hard as he easily carried her to the kitchen. Closing her eyes, she gave into temptation and inhaled deeply.

A dark flood of sensuality instantly filled her senses. Derek might be pompous and overbearing, but he was also sexy as sin. Her thighs tingled under his fingers. Her body softened and resistance was replaced by desire.

Too soon, he set her down on the tile floor. As his hand left the small of her back, a taut gaze passed between them, weakening her knees. Her breath stopped for a split second. But then he blinked, and his expression neutralized.

Turning abruptly, he headed for the walk-in freezer, grabbing the lever handle and yanking it forward. The heavy door groaned open, and he flipped the light switch and stepped inside.

Candice followed more slowly, forcing herself to shake off the unsettling feelings. A few seconds of fantasy was one thing, but this was Derek. Derek.

He was everything her mother had warned her against—an entrepreneurial shark who only existed to make money and gain power. He ate women like her for lunch.

“Let’s scope out our choices,” he said from inside the freezer. “Filet mignon, rack of lamb, sockeye salmon, baby back ribs…”

She rubbed her shoulders and curled her toes against the chill of the floor as she gazed at the packed shelves lining the freezer room’s walls. “You know how to cook all this stuff?”

“Sure. Don’t you?”

Growing up with both a cook and housekeeper on staff had left some definite shortcomings in Candice’s homemaking skills. “I’m pretty good with a microwave.”

Derek gave her a disapproving frown. “You survive on processed food?”

“Not always.” Her teeth chattered for a second. “When I visit my parents, Anna-Leigh sends care packages home with me.”

“That’s pathetic.” He shrugged out of his tux jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

She shook her head, pushing it off. This was getting way too cozy.

His hands held it firm against her shoulder. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your teeth are chattering.”

“We’re in a freezer.”

He sighed heavily. “Do you have to be so stubborn?”

“Do you have to be so stubborn?”

“You wear my coat, I’ll make you dinner.”

“That’s—”

“A deal?”

“Fine.” She pushed her arms into the sleeves and wrapped the big jacket around her. She had to admit, the body heat lingering in the soft lining felt like heaven. The weight of the fabric pushed comfortingly down on her shoulders.

He flicked open the buttons on his white shirt cuffs and rolled the sleeves over his forearms. Then he moved farther into the hallway-like freezer. “You can’t even cook a steak?”

“I don’t like steak.”

“What do you like?”

“Seafood.”

“Hmm.” Derek took a few more steps down the shelves.

She stayed put near the open freezer door, soaking up every whiff of warm air that crept in from the kitchen.

He smiled, retrieving a couple of plastic packages. “Lobster ought to do it. You check the refrigerator for butter. I’ll light the grill.”

“You’re going to cook lobster?” Not that she was an expert, but lobster sounded even trickier than steak.

“You bet.” He hustled her out of the freezer and closed the door behind them.

She rubbed one cold, stocking-covered foot against the opposite calf, trying not to feel outclassed. “Didn’t you have a cook when you were a kid?”

“Sure we did. Doesn’t mean I can’t read a recipe book. Go into the fridge and get me some butter, and…” He glanced around the kitchen. It was cluttered with crates and boxes full of new equipment. None had been unpacked yet, since the bulk of the work so far had been in the dining room.

“Never mind,” he continued. “I’ll find the spices.”

By the time Candice got back from the walk-in refrigerator, Derek had the grill flaming and he was stirring a pot on the big stovetop.

“What’s that?” She peered around his shoulder, sniffing at the mixture.

“Chocolate.”

“You’re making chocolate lobster?” Maybe he’d overstated his cooking expertise.

He grinned. “Chocolate mousse for dessert.”

“No way.” She did cake from a mix sometimes, brownies on an adventurous day.

He slanted her an accusatory look. “Your faith in me is not particularly inspiring.”

“But, you always act like such a pampered, spoiled…” Candice bit her lower lip. Here the man was making her a fabulous dinner, and she was insulting him.

“Don’t jump to conclusions about people,” he said softly.

“Considering how much time we’ve spent together over the past three months, I didn’t think it was jumping.” Culinary expertise aside, she had ample evidence to back up the fact that he was pampered and spoiled.

He adjusted the flame under the open grill, then flipped a switch to start an exhaust fan above it. “It takes two to tango.”

Candice stilled for a split second, overtaken by an image of tangoing with Derek, right here, right now, on the dining room floor. She shook it away. The fact that he could cook didn’t make him any less dangerous.

“You argued with me over the wood stain,” she pointed out.

“You argued right back.”

He was right, but she knew you couldn’t give an inch with Derek. And it wasn’t quite the same thing.

“Honey gloss?” she scoffed. “Natural satin blends with the entire theme, and it’s only a halftone off the color you’re fighting to the death for.”

Derek slowly stirred the pot of melting chocolate. “And honey gloss is only a halftone off the color you’re fighting to the death for.”

Candice compressed her lips. “It’s not the same thing.”

“It’s exactly the same thing.”

He just didn’t get it. Natural satin was part of a complex color design. His honey gloss was merely an uninformed, untrained whim.

Or else he was being obstinate. Quite frankly, she suspected the latter. “What about the wainscoting?” What was his excuse for that?

“Your choice is what? A quarter of an inch wider than mine.” He unwrapped the lobster tails and set them on the grill. Then he swiftly set out a small pot of butter to melt.

“I’m going for authenticity. Believe me, it makes a difference.” She watched his quick, clean movements. “You need some help with that?”

“I’m fine.” He crossed the room and retrieved a basting brush from a cutlery drawer. “It makes a whole quarter of an inch difference,” he said as he walked back toward her, brandishing the brush for emphasis. “Not to mention several thousand dollars.”

“Thanks for not mentioning that.”

“No problem.” He swirled the brush in the melting butter.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked.

“Why do you care so much?” he countered.

“I’m the decorator. It’s my job to worry about the details.”

“I’m the hotel owner. It’s my job to worry about the bottom line.”

“I won’t go over budget.”

“You won’t come in under budget, either.”

“That’s why they call it a budget. I’m going to build you the best restaurant I can within the financial limit you set.”

“Nobody’s going to notice the damn wainscoting.”

“Maybe not specifically—”

“See?” He basted the lobster tails with his left hand, stirring the chocolate with his right. “Why waste the money on something nobody will notice?”

She dragged her gaze away from his mesmerizing hands. “Not specifically the wainscoting, but they’ll notice the overall effect. Like the top of the wine rack. Will some customer walk in and say ‘Look, honey, the pattern of the marble on the wine rack flows into the overall scheme of the atrium’? Of course not. But, subconsciously, they’ll notice. There’s a fine line between four and five stars.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Stick with me, baby, and I’ll push you over the top.”

Derek stopped stirring and basting, and he stared at her for a moment. The sensual heat in his deep blue eyes was unmistakable. “Left yourself wide-open once again,” he whispered low and husky.

She drew back, confused.

A slow smile crossed his face. “Much as I’d like to go ‘over the top’ with you, baby, I don’t think it’s a good idea, given our current adversarial professional relationship.”

Her face heated. “I only meant…”

He chuckled. “I know. But, damn, you give a guy openings that are just too good to pass up.”

He turned his attention back to cooking. “Tell you what, in the spirit of cooperation, I’ll give on the stain if you give on the wainscoting.”

Candice blinked. She didn’t plan to give on anything. “But, the wainscoting is—”

“A difference of thousands of dollars.” He raised one eyebrow. “For a quarter of an inch. Can we get a negotiation going here or not?”

Candice was silent for a moment. It wasn’t her first choice, but she supposed they could make the wainscoting work. “If you get the wainscoting, I get to choose all of the stain and paint colors,” she said.

Derek stared at her. “You want me to give you all the stain and paint colors for a mere quarter of an inch?”

“It’s thousands of dollars,” she countered.

He grinned. “Done.” He lifted the spoon out of the chocolate, blowing on the liquid to cool it.

“What do you think?” Cupping his hand several inches below the spoon, he moved it toward her mouth.

She leaned hesitantly forward and licked the tip of the spoon. The rich, dark, sensual chocolate flavor bloomed in her mouth. She closed her eyes and moaned in appreciation.

“Go to the head of the class,” she said.

“Why, thank you, teacher.” Somehow he made the words sound like a caress.

3

“HAVE YOU CONSIDERED becoming a chef?” Across the candlelit table from Derek, Candice took another bite of her grilled lobster and her lips curved into a blissful smile.

He couldn’t help the small surge of pride he felt at her obvious appreciation. “And give up my budding decorating career?”

“No offense,” Candice said, lifting her glass of Chablis. “But, you should probably go with your strengths.”

“I’m crushed.” But he couldn’t help grinning.

It was the first time in weeks he’d had time to cook—the first time in months he didn’t have to rush off to a meeting or a conference call after dinner. And mental gymnastics with Candice did have their moments. When he was done reaming his brother out for this stunt, he’d have to thank him.

She waved her long-stemmed glass. The lights of downtown Seattle glittered in the distance behind her, and glowing pleasure-boats cruised below on their way back to the marina. “Hey, even you over-achievers can’t be good at everything.”

He sat back in his chair, gazing at her from beneath raised eyebrows. “From a waste of air to an over-achiever all in one night.”

“You’re still a waste of air when it comes to decorating. Accept defeat with dignity and grace.”

Derek picked up his own glass of wine, taking a sip. One thing about being locked up in the Lighthouse Restaurant, they sure didn’t need to rough it on the culinary front. “And get the heck away from your renovation job, right?”

She nodded. “Exactly. Why don’t you go out and raise some venture capital or something. Leave the restaurant to me.”

“Venture capital?”

“I minored in economics.”

“You’re suggesting I should go out and make money, and you’ll stay here and spend it.”

“Now you’re catching on,” she voiced in a singsong, leaning forward. Then she smiled, and her green eyes lit up in the flickering candlelight. Her eyes were bright, her lips were soft and her cheeks were delicately flushed.

For the hundredth time that night he was blown away by her beauty.

“We could have a symbiotic relationship,” she said eagerly.

A shot of desire rippled through him. “You’re handing me openings on a silver platter again.”

“Symbiotic means mutually beneficial.” She smirked.

“I know.” He could think of so many mutually beneficial things he’d like to do to her right now.

His suit jacket had fallen open to reveal her purple dress. The neckline had crept down throughout the course of the evening, and it seemed to cling precariously to the curve of her breasts.

His thoughts kept veering off in inappropriate directions, and he seemed powerless to stop them. He had an almost uncontrollable urge to pull her into his arms. He tightened his grip on the stem of the wineglass.

“The carpet for the crown molding,” he said to distract himself. It was a giveaway on his part, but it was the first deal that came to his mind.

“My carpet for your crown molding?” she asked, sitting up straighter, obviously surprised by the generosity of the deal. Her movement tightened her dress, and he swore he could almost see the pink of one areola.

Derek swallowed a deep draught of wine. “Yeah.”

“The vintage, hand-knotted Safavid?”

“Right.”

Candice drew a breath, tightening her dress even more. “You won’t be sorry.”

He was already sorry. Most of his customers wouldn’t know a Safavid from a nylon Berber. The best he could hope for was an increase in his carpet-aficionado customer base. Maybe they’d order some extra drinks while dropping down on all fours to run their fingers over the imported fibers.

This round definitely went to her. But only because she was using her breasts as a negotiating tool—even if she didn’t realize it.

He had a sudden burning need to make a deal that was weighted on his side of the equation. “Let’s talk light fixtures,” he said.

“You’re not touching my bronze-and-stained-glass chandelier,” she warned, eyes narrowing.

“I gave you the carpet.”

She shook her head. “That was a completely different deal.” Pushing back her chair, she stood up.

Derek jumped up, too. “Where are you going?” He was still worried about her bare feet.

“To get some cocktail napkins.”

“Stay here.” He motioned with his hand. “I’ll get them for you.”

He went to the kitchen and retrieved a handful of white paper napkins.

“Got a pen?” she called.

He checked behind the maître d’s desk and found a pen.

“What are you planning to do with all this?” he asked as he returned to the table and set the napkins down in front of her.

“Contract amendments.” She scooped the pen from his outstretched hand. “The wainscoting for the stain and the crown molding for the carpet.”

She printed on a napkin for a moment.

Derek sat down.

“Sign here.” She pushed it across the table.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Dated and signed by both of us. It ought to hold up in court.”

“We’re not going to court.”

“I’m not taking any chances with my Safavid carpet.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

She folded her arms across her chest and smiled. “Then you have no reason not to sign, do you?”

Since her crossed arms brought her breasts up against the scooped neck of the dress, and since he could most definitely see soft, pigmented skin peeking out, he did as she asked.

“Perfect.” She smiled, scooping up the napkin. “We’re finished with those two items.” Then she blinked her long lashes. “Any other areas you’d like to discuss?”

He decided then and there to take her along for the next labor negotiation. While he wasn’t prepared to say she’d beaten him, he definitely wanted her on the team when the going got tough.

“The light fixtures,” he said, deciding it was time for him to win one. He had to concentrate to keep his gaze from dropping to her chest.

“The bronze and stained glass exudes character and history,” she began. “When customers enter the Lighthouse, that fixture will be the first thing they see. They’ll be overwhelmed by it’s grandeur and style. It’s a classic. It’ll highlight the wine rack—”

“It’s a light,” he said dryly.

“It’s not a light.” She looked affronted. “Well, yeah, okay, of course it’s a light.”

“I nearly fell out of my chair when I read the price.”

“But, it’s not just a light. It’s an antique.”

“Get a reproduction. Nobody will know.”

“You’ll know.”

“I won’t care. I’ll be too busy spending the money we saved.”

Candice leaned forward.

Derek nearly groaned at the cleavage she presented. It ought to be illegal.

Of course, he could tell her, and she’d probably cover up.

Nah.

“I’ll know,” she said. “I’ll care.”

“And that’s supposed to keep me awake at night?” It wouldn’t. Not like the thought of her breasts would.

“Okay. How about this. Restaurant reviewers will know.” She leaned back and smiled, obviously appreciating her own brilliance. She lifted her wineglass. “You want them to write about the cheap reproduction or the fine antique.”

Derek paused. He needed to succeed in at least one of these side deals, to salvage his pride if nothing else.

“I’ll give you the tiles,” she said. “The tiles for the light fixture.”

“But, I like the tiles.”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She began writing.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’ll keep the light fixture. You keep the tiles.”

“Wait a minute—”

“Why don’t you get the chocolate mousse?” She looked up at him and smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t want to hurt my feet.”

“YOU’RE CORRUPT,” said Derek as Candice savored the first bite of her chocolate mousse—creamy rich, melting smoothly over her tongue. He should seriously consider a career as a chef.

“Why?” she asked, licking every little morsel off the tip of the spoon.

“You got it both ways on the last deal.”

“That’s because you were so busy talking to my cleavage.” She grasped the top of her dress and tugged it up a little.

His spoon froze in midair. “You knew?”

“Please.”

He might be a great cook, but subtlety was not his middle name. The man saw a flash of skin and he was hopeless.

“That’s cheating,” he said.

“Cheating how?”

“You should have…” He made a lifting motion with both hands.

“You could have told me.”

A slow, secretive smile grew on his face. “Then you would have covered up.”

She smiled back, just as secretively. “Then you wouldn’t have signed away a fifty-thousand-dollar light fixture.”

“For fifty thousand dollars, you should have to strut around looking sexy all night.”

“Not in the contract.” She patted the two signed napkins.

“My mistake.”

She chuckled. “It’s cleavage, Derek. Every woman at the reception tonight showed off the same thing.”

“Not my mother or aunt Eileen.”

“Every woman under the age of fifty.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“There’s that opening again.”

“Are you trying to flirt with me?”

He stared into her eyes for a long, silent moment. “You want me to?”

Danger signs flashed through her mind. No way she was walking into that one. “I want leather upholstery for the dining-room chairs.”

“That’ll put you over budget.”

“How can you know that?”

He tapped his forehead. “Mind like a steel trap. I remember the cost and the square footage required, and the outrageous labor charges.”

He did, did he?

She reached up and pulled a couple of pins from her hair, raking her fingertips through the tangled curls. Maybe she could get him to reconsider….

He watched in silence, his gaze following her every movement. His nostrils flared. “It won’t work. But nice try.”

“Taking down my hair wasn’t a bribe,” she lied. “I’m tired, and my head’s getting sore. It’s after midnight.”

His eyebrows crept up. “Uh-huh. Another nice try.”

“How long’s it been since you had a date?”

“A what?”

“A date. You’re sure susceptible to a woman who’s sitting here doing nothing but minding her own business.” She fought a grin.

“I’m not susceptible to anything.”

“Uh-huh.” She scooped up a small amount of the chocolate mousse with her index finger, then placed it in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the rich cream, then slowly pulling the fingertip back out through her pursed lips. She was shamelessly copying a scene from a movie, but it must have worked because Derek’s eyes darkened.

“Stop,” he growled.

“Stop what?” She reached for the mousse again.

His hand shot out and he grabbed her wrist. “You’re playing with fire.”

“I’m eating dessert.”

He stared deep into her eyes.

The heat of his hand seared her skin. Her pulse leaped and desire sizzled in her blood.

What was the matter with her? She was locked up alone with him for the foreseeable future, and she was acting like some kind of siren.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll stop.”

“Good decision.” He slowly released her wrist. He sat back and stared out the window, across the black lake to the star-studded sky.

“Derek…”

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