by Lisa Weaver
Seemingly satisfied with her answer, Damon directed his attention on the dealer. “What’s your asking price?”
The man adjusted his tie, buying himself a moment before responding to the inquiry. “Twenty thousand dollars.”
Stephanie’s eyes widened.
Well, that explains why he’s anxious, she thought.
The amount he’d indicated was highway robbery, regardless of the book’s amazing condition.
Damon didn’t bat an eye, nor did he try to negotiate a better selling price.
She knew he must want the book very badly, but she couldn’t in good conscience let him spend that kind of money when she was certain she could obtain a similar volume for a quarter of that.
“Can I see you in private for a moment, Damon?” she asked.
“Sure,” he assented, before turning his attention to their guest. “Would you excuse us?”
The man nodded and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. As she walked past, she saw him remove a handkerchief from his pocket and wipe his forehead.
“He’s really nervous,” she murmured, as soon as they were in the hallway and out of earshot. “And it’s no wonder. The book is in mint condition, but his asking price is highly inflated. It might take a few weeks, but I’m confident I could find a similar copy for you for far less.”
“My intuition tells me he’s selling the book for a third party, thus the high price tag. He’s probably looking to make a little extra on the deal to pad his own pockets. This is the volume I want, though, and I appreciate your help in vetting it. I just needed to be certain it was the real deal.”
“Okay. If you’re sure …” she ventured, unconvinced that the transaction was a wise one. Still, she knew it wasn’t her place to weigh in on his business dealings.
They returned to Damon’s office, where he arranged for a transfer of the funds to the dealer’s account. Once the book dealer confirmed the money had been deposited, he turned the book over to Damon and went on his way.
“I have a few other meetings scheduled for this morning, before I can fly back with you,” Damon told them. “I’ve arranged for my driver to take you to my sister’s clothing boutique while you’re waiting. She’s set aside a couple of her new designs for you and Vanessa. She’d love it if you’d wear them at a dinner party I’m hosting Saturday night. There are some foreign dignitaries attending, and it would be a great way for her to introduce her label to overseas prospects.”
Vanessa’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Oh! how can we refuse an offer like that? You’re going to love Larissa’s gowns, Stephanie. She’s a gifted designer.”
A short limo ride later, she and Vanessa were greeted by a stunning redhead whose looks and figure would have easily allowed her to showcase her own creations on the catwalk.
Stephanie quickly discovered that Larissa Landers was more than just another pretty face. In addition to being sharp-witted, she possessed an unerring eye for fashion.
The gown Larissa selected for Vanessa was a silky, mermaid-style number with a long, lacy skirt. The fire-engine-red dress suited both Vanessa’s coloring and slender shape perfectly.
Stephanie’s dress was crafted from a shimmery metallic fabric that flowed over her curves like liquid gold. Strategically placed sheer mesh cutouts drew attention to her waist and bust, with more sheer panels draping down from a thigh-high slitted skirt. She felt like a princess in the slinky creation.
“You both look gorgeous,” Larissa said, beaming. “Now for the shoes.”
Larissa was a magician in the footwear department as well, and Stephanie and Vanessa left the boutique a half hour later with the gowns and matching stilettos safely tucked up in garment bags.
“I can see why you love your job,” Stephanie told Vanessa, grinning. “One-on-one time with a talented fashion designer is quite a perk.”
“Yes,” she said. “This job definitely comes with its share of perks.”
“Especially the working-with-Damon part, I’m guessing.”
Vanessa nodded enthusiastically. “I couldn’t ask for a better boss. The pace of the job can get a little frustrating at times, though. Damon is always one hundred percent on task. He’s all about duty and responsibility. There’s nothing wrong with that—it just makes him blind to everything else going on around him.”
“Like the fact that you’re in love with him?”
“You guessed, huh? Is it that obvious I’m crazy about him?”
“It’s pretty easy to recognize the signs of unrequited love, since I’m in the same boat with Frank.”
Vanessa’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “But I thought you two were a couple.”
“We are. But it’s complicated. Let’s just say he’s not as into me as I am into him. It seems we’re facing the same dilemma when it comes to the men we care about. We’re take-charge women. What do we do about it?”
“We go after what we want,” Vanessa asserted. “And we start by making sure our men aren’t oblivious to us. These gowns will be a great start!”
In that moment, Stephanie decided she’d found a kindred spirit in Damon’s right-hand woman.
Since they still had time to kill before they had to return to the office, they opted to squeeze in manicures before Damon’s driver returned to collect them.
Later, they reconnected with Damon at his office. After they’d feted his successful book purchase with an exquisite lunch, Vanessa flew them back to the Isle de Lion.
When they landed, Damon walked Stephanie back to the main house. “I’m eager to see the magic you’ve wrought with the library,” he told her.
She sent up a little prayer of thanks when they stepped into the room and she saw that Frank wasn’t there. The two men mixed about as well as oil and water, so keeping them separated would reduce the chance for conflict.
Damon surveyed the rows of books lined up neatly on the glossy mahogany shelves, his eyes gleaming with appreciation. “You really are a miracle worker! What you’ve accomplished here in just a few hours is amazing.”
“Thank you. I didn’t do it alone. Frank was an enormous help. He unboxed the books and organized them by genre, which saved a lot of time. I’ve alphabetized the volumes according to author. Nonfiction works are on the two shelves to either side of the fireplace, and the fiction volumes take up the remainder of the space. You’re collection is exquisite.”
“Thanks. It’s been in the family for generations. I want to ensure it gets passed along for generations more.”
“I noticed there are some duplicates. Would you like me to set them aside for use in another room, or shall I shelve them next to their matches?”
“Let’s separate them out, and I’ll donate them. Would you mind boxing them up?”
“I’d be happy to. But you do know that many of the extra copies are quite valuable, right?”
He shrugged. “I don’t need the money, and I would rather the books were enjoyed.”
The night of the benefit, when she’d first met Damon, she’d thought Frank’s assessment of the businessman’s character might not be too far off base. Now she was just as certain Frank had judged the man too harshly.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Frank was returning to the library when he saw Damon squeeze Stephanie’s shoulder affectionately before exiting the room and heading down the hallway in the opposite direction.
His jaw tightened and his hands clenched into fists as he fought the urge to go after their host and read him the riot act for daring to get so familiar.
Mine, he thought as a tsunami of possessive inclinations crashed over him. Which was ludicrous. Steph was a good friend, not a lover. And she wasn’t his.
Though he might want her in his bed, he wasn’t about to take advantage of her innocence. She deserved more than a meaningless fling. She deserved a real relationship.
She looked up as he walked into the room, greeting him with a warm smile. He wasn’t in the mood to smile back.
“I sa
w Damon leaving just now. What did he want?”
“He was just checking out my progress on the project.”
“Are you sure that’s all he was checking out?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Would you stop? You’re letting your preconceived notions about the man prevent you from seeing him objectively. He really isn’t the monster you’re so determined to make him out to be.”
“If one of us is wearing blinders here, it’s you. Stay away from him, Steph. I’m telling you, he’s dangerous. You can carry out your assignment here without having to spend a lot of time with him.”
“You’re the one who’s always telling me to trust my instincts—and they’re telling me he’s not a threat.”
“Instincts can be colored by emotion. I think you’ve allowed yourself to be drawn in by his charms.”
“I’ll admit he’s handsome, and yes, he’s charming. But that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to him. He may not be what he appears, but that doesn’t mean he’s shady. I don’t get that dark-side vibe from him.”
The idea of her getting any kind of vibes at all from Landers set Frank’s teeth on edge. Fortunately she changed the subject, effectively ending the debate.
“So, did you make any inroads on your investigation while we were away this morning?” she asked.
“I had a chance to do some poking around, but I didn’t find a thing. It’s so freaking frustrating. I know there’s a clue here, somewhere, to the identity of the man who’s responsible for Pamela’s death. I’m going to track it down.”
“Not to change the subject, but I’ve been wanting to ask you something. It’s been on my mind a lot lately, and I really need an honest answer from you.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“I want to know why you keep running away from me when I’ve made it clear that I’m interested in more than just friendship with you. Unless I’m reading the signals wrong—you find me attractive, don’t you?”
“Of course I find you attractive. I’d have to be dead not to. Look, I’m not walking away because I’m not into you. I’m walking away because being with you in that way is all I’ve been thinking about lately, and I can’t go down that road.”
“Why not? Make me understand why we can’t explore this chemistry between us, because I don’t get why you keep rejecting me.”
“I’m not rejecting you. I’m protecting you.”
“Gah! There you go with the protecting thing again. Protecting me from what?”
“From me. You don’t want to get messed up with me.”
“That’s ludicrous. We’ve been friends for years. You’re compassionate, selfless, generous, trustworthy, and loyal—to a fault.”
“You see me that way, but there’s a side to me you don’t know. And trust me, you don’t want to. I did some ugly things during my stint with the CIA. I also made some truly sinister enemies—men who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt the people I love. That’s why I don’t do committed relationships.”
“As excuses go, that one deserves an A-plus for creativity, but it doesn’t hold water. In our line of work, I’m just as much a target as your friend as I would be as your lover. What are you really afraid of?”
He sighed, tossing up his hands. “I just don’t want to hurt you, okay? It’s as simple as that. You deserve the best that ‘happily-ever-after’ has to offer, and I can’t deliver it. I’m just not intimate relationship material.”
“I think I should have a say in whom I choose to be with, don’t you? And I’m not asking for a signed contract promising me forever.”
He reached a hand out to caress her face. “Don’t you see that I’m not worthy of what you’re offering?”
“I wouldn’t be asking you to be with me if I thought for even a second that you weren’t,” she refuted passionately. “All I’m asking is for a chance to explore this thing between us.”
He shook his head, his eyes filled with regret. “I’m sorry, Kitten. You deserve forever, and I can’t give you that. The answer is no.”
Chapter Twelve
Frank decided there was actually some merit to the whole hell-hath-no-fury-like-a-woman-scorned cliché as Stephanie made her dissatisfaction with his decision to steer clear of a physical relationship with her abundantly clear.
She’d spent as little time with him as possible since their conversation two nights before, and whenever they did have to be together she ignored him. She’d taken the proverbial cold-shoulder treatment to a whole new level.
While she might not be happy he’d spurned her advances, their friendship was sacrosanct to him. If she thought he was going to put it on the line for his physical satisfaction, then she didn’t really know him at all. Her mopefest wasn’t going to sway his decision one iota.
That didn’t mean doing the right thing was easy. In fact, he’d never found it so difficult. And he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he’d made a huge mistake in walking away from her.
Stephanie’s freezing-him-out routine was in force that night as they got ready to attend a dinner Damon was hosting on the island. Half a dozen artists and musicians would be sharing their table.
It was an evening highlighted by great food and interesting conversation, and it would have been enjoyable had Stephanie not ignored him throughout dinner. She had, however, chatted animatedly enough with Damon and Vanessa—and she’d gained another admirer.
Andrew.
Andrew was a musician who was taking advantage of the peaceful sanctuary of Damon’s retreat to work on some scores he was composing. He was a dark-haired version of Damon—stunningly handsome and equally as charming—and the fact that he’d taken an instant liking to Stephanie set Frank’s teeth on edge. It didn’t help that she clung to the man’s every word. It only added to the building frustration of the past few days.
Stephanie had made major headway in setting up Damon’s library. But though the cataloging project was going well, their individual investigations were not. They’d encountered brick wall after brick wall, and neither of them had had any luck locating the information they were looking for. They were no closer to finding the evidence Sentinels needed to build a case against Lawrence Mendacci.
Nor had he made any progress rooting out the identity of Pamela’s killer.
He was relieved when the dinner party came to a close and they were able to call it a night.
“Have you forgotten Damon is supposed to think we’re a couple?” he asked her as they walked back to their guesthouse. “Because that’s not the impression anyone at the table with us tonight would have come away with.”
“I did my part,” she replied, bristling. “I went to dinner with you. I’m sorry I wasn’t aware of the need for any additional playacting.”
Before he had a chance to respond, she disappeared into her bedroom. When she reappeared a few minutes later, she’d changed into a bikini that left even less to the imagination than the sexy little number she’d worn on the boat. Tying a matching sheer cover-up around her waist, she headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I should think that’s obvious. I’m going down to the pool. Andrew invited me to join him for a swim. I’ve decided to take him up on his offer. Unless you have a better idea for how I can spend the rest of my evening?”
She shot him a look that told him exactly what alternate activity she had in mind.
He shook his head. “We’ve been over this already. We’re not going there. You deserve stability, and I can’t give you that.”
Frustration flashed in her eyes. “You have these preconceived notions about who I am and what I want, but they couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m not that timid, melt-into-the-woodwork girl you knew in high school. I’m different now. I know what I want, and I want you.”
“I don’t have anything even remotely resembling a future in me. I’m not your happily ever after, Steph, so don’t pin those hopes on me.”
“You’re doing it again,” she warned. “It�
�s time you put the protective bubble wrap away. I don’t care about your supposed inability to be in a committed relationship. I’m not asking for a future with you. I’m only asking for one night. I want to act without hashing out every detail beforehand, for once. I want to live in the moment. Is that so wrong?”
She didn’t wait for his reply. Reaching behind her neck, she undid the strings holding her bikini top in place. The garment dropped to the floor, baring her gorgeous breasts to his gaze.
“Are you still sure you want to walk away?” she challenged.
Arousal surged through him hard and fast, freezing him in place. There were 1,001 reasons why he shouldn’t take what she was offering, but the sight of her standing half-naked and glorious before him wiped every last one of them from his mind. The only thing his brain was computing was the sight of her.
Even the most honorable man had his breaking point, and he’d reached his. The tenuous grip he’d held on his self-restraint slipped. He strode to her, pulling her into his arms.
“Has anyone ever told you you don’t play fair, Kitten?” he murmured dangerously. “How am I supposed to behave myself now?”
“I don’t want you to behave yourself. I want you to kiss me. I want your mouth on every inch of me. Trust your heart, Frank. Don’t think. Just feel.”
His fingernails bit into his palms as he fought the impulse to do exactly that.
But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not before he made his intent clear.
“I’m going to go insane if I don’t get a chance to taste you again, but if I do we’re going to do a lot more than just kiss. Are you okay with that? When we cross that line, there’s no going back. It will change everything between us. You want to be certain you know what you’re starting, because I’m very close to losing control. If I do, there’ll be no stopping.”
“Oh, I definitely know what I’m starting, Mr. Ireland,” she asserted, reaching down to her hip to undo the knot holding her wrap in place before boldly slipping off her bikini bottom. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”
