legs reminded her how exposed she was.
‘Umm, I don’t actually like cocktails that much,’ she blurted to distract herself from her state of undress.
‘You’re a mixologist who doesn’t like her own creations? How do you know you’re not poisoning the general population?’
‘Because nobody’s died yet sampling my drinks. And as to how I know my drinks rock? I try them out on my roommate.’
‘You want me to invest...how much does my company owe you?’
‘Two hundred thousand dollars to help towards construction and advertising costs for Dolce Italia.’
‘Right, two hundred thousand dollars, based on your roommate’s assessment of your talent?’
She poured and passed him a cup, forcing herself not to react to the spark of electricity when their fingers brushed. ‘You threw away thirty million last night without blinking but you’re grilling me over two hundred thousand?’
He stiffened. ‘That was different.’ His voice held icy warning.
She heeded it. ‘Anyway,’ she hurried on, ‘thousands of people voted for me to win your show based on three of my best dishes and cocktails.’
His gaze drifted over her, lingered at her breasts then down her legs before he came back to her face. ‘Are you sure that’s the only reason they voted?’
The sudden tremble in her fingers made her set the cup down. ‘You’re an ass for making that inference.’ Again, much too close to home. Too many times her mother had been ridiculed for using her sexuality to boost ratings, a fact Ruby had burned with humiliation for every single time.
‘What inference?’ he asked with a sly grin.
‘The stupid sexist one you’re making. Are you saying they voted for me because I have boobs?’ Her rough accusation finally got his attention. The smile slid from his face but not the stark hunger in his eyes.
‘Very nice ones.’
Despite her annoyance, heat rushed through her. ‘Yeah, well, two of the other contestants had boobs, too.’
‘I have no interest in theirs,’ he returned blandly.
She picked up her cup and started to blow on her coffee, noticed his intense gaze on her mouth and thought better of it. ‘Are you really that shallow?’
‘Sì, I am.’
‘No, you’re not.’
‘You wound me.’
‘You wound yourself. You’re clearly intelligent—’
‘Grazie—’
‘Or you wouldn’t be worth billions. I fail to see why you feel the need to add this to the equation.’
‘Tell me, sweet Ruby, why is it sexist to state that I appreciate an attractive body when I see it?’
Her mouth tightened. ‘It’s sexist when you imply I got where I am by flaunting it when you couldn’t be more wrong.’
‘Point taken.’ He said nothing further.
‘Is that supposed to be an apology?’
‘Yes, I apologise unreservedly for making observations about your body.’
‘That’s almost as bad as saying “I apologise if your feelings are hurt” instead of “I’m sorry for hurting your feelings”.’
‘Let’s not dwell on the pedantic. You have my unreserved apologies.’ His gaze was steady and clear.
Ruby chose to believe he meant it. ‘Thank you.’
‘Good. I tried to reach Stone. I’ve been informed he’s on vacation and can’t be reached.’
She took a huge gulp of coffee and nearly groaned at the superb taste. Then his words broke through. ‘Right. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.’
The seriously gorgeous grin returned. ‘I know, and I’m very grateful for that.’
‘Get to the point, please.’
‘Stone is trekking in the Amazon for the next three weeks.’
Alarm skated through her. ‘I can’t wait another three weeks. I’ll lose everything I’ve poured into getting the restaurant off the ground so far.’
‘Which is what exactly?’
‘Simon secured the rent but I put up my own money for the conversion of the space and the catering equipment.’
He froze. ‘Who is Simon?’ he asked in a silky tone threaded with steel.
‘My ex-business partner.’
‘Enlighten me why he’s your ex,’ he said in that abrupt, imperious way she’d come to expect.
The ache from Simon’s betrayal flared anew. ‘We didn’t see eye to eye so we parted ways.’
Narciso’s eyes narrowed. ‘Was he your lover?’
She hesitated. ‘Almost,’ she finally admitted. ‘We met in college, but lost touch for a while. A year ago we met again in New York. I told him about opening my restaurant and he offered to become my partner. We got close...’
He tensed. ‘But?’
‘But he neglected to tell me he had a pregnant wife at home and...I almost slept with him. He almost made me an accomplice in his infidelity.’ The thought sent cold anger through her.
‘How did you find out?’
Her hand tightened around her coffee cup. ‘We were on our way to Connecticut for a romantic getaway when his wife called to say she’d gone into labour. I trusted him, and he turned out to be no better than...’ She shook her head angrily and jumped when his fingers touched hers. Looking up, her eyes connected with his surprisingly gentle ones.
‘I think you’ll agree he takes the douche-bag crown, no?’
She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Yes.’
He remained silent for several minutes, then he drained his cup. ‘So my company’s contribution is to help finish your restaurant?’
‘That and the advertising costs for the first six months.’
‘Do you have any paperwork?’
‘Not with me, no. I couldn’t exactly bring a briefcase to the job last night. But Nigel can prove it...’
‘I’m taking over from Nigel,’ he said abruptly.
‘Excuse me?’
He set
