High Stakes

“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.

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