Day Leclaire - More Than Perfect

Honestly, men never failed to exasperate her.

The instant their dinner arrived, she deliberately turned the conversation to the Richter project, hoping against hope it would get the focus off her and onto business where it belonged. “Your remodel of the Diamondt building was stunning,” she informed Gabe with utter sincerity. “Are you planning something similar for this venture?”

“To be honest, I mainly handle the structural renovations.” The instant he nudged his empty plate to one side, a busboy whisked it away.

“Who orchestrated the interior design? They did an impressive job of melding a forties retro feel with all the modern conveniences.”

Gabe hesitated, his eyes darkening in a way that warned of some deep-seated displeasure. “I hired a San Francisco firm for the remodel. Romano Restorations.”

“I’m not familiar with them.”

“No, they’re a fairly new firm.” He glanced at Lucius. “Assuming we can come to terms, we may want to consider them for this job, too.”

Lucius tilted his head to one side, his gaze shrewd. “You have reservations,” he stated, picking up on the same hesitation Angie had.

“Nothing to do with their work or their owner. Constantine Romano is outstanding at his job. It’s his wife who concerns me.” He gave a careless shrug, drawing attention to the impressive width of his shoulders and chest. “It’s a personal matter, one that has no bearing on business.”

A cynical light flickered to life in Lucius’s eyes and Angie could guess what he was thinking. “It’s not that,” she told him before she stopped to think.

Instantly, two sets of masculine eyes swiveled to dissect her. “It’s not … what?” they both demanded, almost in unison, and she winced.

She sat for a split second and stewed. When would she learn to keep her big mouth shut? Granted, Lucius had included her tonight because she tended to be good at assessing people and situations. She had a knack for reading between the lines and, for the most part, coming up with accurate conclusions. Still, he probably would have preferred to have that assessment made in private. Oh, well. Too late now.

Taking a moment longer to consider how to answer their question, she went with the truth. The two businessmen were far too sharp to believe anything less. She glanced at Lucius and fought to maintain her equilibrium beneath his narrow-eyed glare. “When Gabe says it’s personal, you assumed it meant he’d had an affair with Romano’s wife. It’s something else.” She took a sip of wine in the hopes of settling her nerves. It didn’t work. “Something clearly private.”

“How do you know?” Again in unison.

She sighed. Could the two be any more like peas in a pod? She turned to Pea #1, aka … her boss. “Because he’s angry, but not in a you-done-me-wrong sort of way. Plus, his anger isn’t directed at both of them the way it would be if he’d had his woman stolen from him.” And wouldn’t that comment cut close to the bone with Lucius, considering he’d lost his woman to his best friend. She hastened to turn to Pea #2, aka … her boss’s occasional competitor. “Considering the temperature just bottomed out to subarctic—shiver, shiver—it’s clearly a private matter that you wouldn’t talk about regardless of the incentive.” She smiled brightly. “More scotch, or should we get down to serious business over dessert?”

“Dessert and serious business,” Gabe decided.

“With a little more scotch,” Lucius added blandly.

Unfortunately, the going continued to be as turbulent as the chop of the Sound outside the restaurant window, mainly because throughout their discussion, Gabe initiated a mild flirtation with her. His hand brushed hers when he made a point. His fingers lingering on her shoulder whenever he asked a question. He even caught a springy curl and gave it a tug during some teasing remark.

Normally, she’d have flirted right back, fully aware Gabe wasn’t being the least serious. But one look at Lucius’s expression warned her to play it very, very cool. It didn’t make the least sense to her. Hadn’t he requested she flirt with Moretti? Wasn’t the goal to keep him distracted and off his game? Based on the dark looks she was receiving, the goal had changed without warning. Even worse, the only person distracted was Lucius.

By the time the last bite of a vanilla bean crème brûlée had been consumed, Angie hung from the end of her rope by a tattered thread. Gabe had somehow wrung more concessions out of her boss than she thought possible, a fact that left him smoldering dangerously. That fire threatened to burst to life when Gabe leaned in to kiss her farewell in what would have been an innocuous gesture if he hadn’t taken one look at Lucius and then shifted the aim of his kiss, and slowed it, so it caressed the side of her mouth.

Angie decided it might be in her best interest to make a hasty retreat to the ladies’ room while Andre ordered her a cab. With luck the two men would have already departed by the time she returned. She was half-right. Gabe was nowhere to be seen, but Lucius remained. He draped her wrap around her the instant she joined him.

She glanced toward the maître d’. “Has Andre ordered my cab?”

“ Our cab,” he corrected. “And yes, he has.”

Well, damn. That’s what she got for counting the minutes until she could let down her guard and relax. Cursing her luck, she piled a full thirty back onto her tally. “Isn’t it out of the way for you?”

“I don’t mind. Besides, I’m curious to see the house you bought.”

Great. Just great. “No problem,” she murmured. Big problem. Huge problem. And one she didn’t have a hope in hell of avoiding.

“I appreciate your coming tonight,” he surprised her by adding. “Ah, here’s the cab now.”

She followed him from the restaurant into the night air, snuggling deeper into her wrap. The scent of salt and fish flavored the breeze along the waterfront. From the direction of Puget Sound whitecaps foamed beneath a sliver of moon and ferries plied the restless chop, their lights glittering against the blackened sea. The cityscape loomed overhead, glowing with life and vitality. Lucius held the door of the cab and she slid in, praying her skirt didn’t ride any higher. To her relief it stayed put, preserving her modesty. She heard Lucius give the driver the directions before joining her. Leave it to him to have every obscure detail at his fingertips, though it gave Angie an unsettled feeling, knowing that Lucius knew where she lived and could relay the address off the top of his head.

Maybe it had something to do with the thick blanket of darkness combined with the lateness of the hour, but his presence filled the back of the vehicle. Every so often a streetlight would pierce the shadows and play across hard, masculine angles. But that only served to emphasize the darkness of his eyes and make him appear tougher, more unapproachable. Like Bogey in one of his film noirs.

She searched for something to say, desperate to break the silence. Not that it was totally silent. Outside the city lived and breathed, filled with noise and lights and movement. But for some reason, it seemed distant and remote from within the confines of the cab, where his quiet breathing thundered in her ears and a visceral awareness grew with each passing moment. She peered into the night, assessing their distance from home. Still too far.

Way too far.

“I’m sorry the evening didn’t work out quite as planned,” she offered, desperate to break the silence.

“That wasn’t your fault.” His voice issued from the darkness. Quiet, yet carrying an edge that teased along her nerves, making her painfully aware of her scanty dress—and even scantier self-control. “It was mine.”