That’s part of the criteria if you want me to have dinner with you.”
“Then I suppose I should admit I’m entirely single, new to town and therefore completely alone and unattached.”
“All that?” She grinned, realizing that he was flirting with her. She liked it. “Truth is, I’m fairly new to this area, too, although I’ve already made several friends, so I can’t claim to be entirely alone.”
He glanced at his watch. “I’m late now for a meeting, but I can come by and pick you up in an hour.”
Shadow tilted her head, studying him. “Why don’t we hold off on dinner. After all, I don’t really know you. Your name could be Hector, and you might have lied about the rest. But I’d be glad to have lunch with you tomorrow. Here? At the coffee shop?”
He hesitated so long, Shadow was afraid her reserve had chased him off, but she had to be cautious. She knew that.
She was ready to call the whole thing off herself, hoping to save face, when he said, “You have beautiful eyes. I’ve never seen that shade of brown before. Warm, like whiskey. Lunch will be fine. Around noon?”
He’d said it all in one long, drawled comment. Had he done that on purpose, mixing outrageous compliments and suggestions to take her off guard? “Noon would be fine. I’ll meet you there.”
“No. I’ll come here and we’ll walk up together.” As he left, he picked up one of her brochures, and Shadow saw him make note of her name and business number printed in the upper corner. He left without another word, this time stepping very carefully onto the icy walk.
After he’d gone, Shadow put her hand over her heart. It drummed madly against her palm. Good grief, a man like that carried a lot of impact, and she’d barely gotten to know him. Still, she’d recognized right off that he liked to control all situations. He had been equally put off by, and intrigued with, her bold manner.
Lunch, she thought, should prove interesting.
* * *
AFTER A LONG NIGHT of pondering possibilities, Brent had decided he was pleased to be leasing business space to Shadow Callahan. Very pleased. “Micky, I need you to hunt up a file.”
“Yes, Mr. Bramwell. Which one?”
Brent lounged back in his office chair, his eyes on the brochure laid open on his desk. “Ms. Shadow Callahan. She’s leasing at the new buildings over in South-watch.”
“I’ll have it in a minute.”
“Thank you.” Brent studied the brochure, advertising everything from board games to perfumed oils, specialty clothing to self-help books promising to put the fun back into your sex life. It was so outrageous as to be laughable. And profitable. Brent could easily see such a novel idea catching on. The woman who had come up with the concept most assuredly intrigued him.
He couldn’t remember ever meeting anyone so animated, or so lovely. Ms. Callahan, even dressed in old jeans and a sweatshirt, exuded blatant sensuality and confidence. Her appeal had nothing to do with clothing or store-bought fragrances. It was attitude, the way she moved and spoke, the way she smiled so easily. She was sexy as hell.
Brent was always very conscious of women and their motives; he had to be. Women gravitated toward him because of his bankbook and his connections, not his looks, certainly not his character. He could have been a troll with the nastiest disposition and still women would try for his attention. It’d been a long time since he’d felt the thrill of the chase. Hell, it had been a long time since there’d been any need for a chase.
But Shadow Callahan, with all her compliments and open appreciation, didn’t know he had money. So why had she been so intent on controlling the situation? He’d recognized that intention immediately, because it was usually his objective, as well. And for a minute or two there he’d actually allowed her the upper hand, merely out of surprise.
Micky brought in the requested folder and Brent got down to business. He’d be seeing her again in just a few short hours, and he wanted to be prepared this time. Shadow—what a name—didn’t yet know that he held her lease, and that was just fine by him. He’d take all the advantages he could get. But before he had any more verbal skirmishes with her, he’d find out all he could about her, and there was no way he’d let her take him by surprise again.
* * *
SHADOW DIDN’T GIVE BRENT a single thought that morning. She was far too busy with holiday shoppers who used her novel stock of items to take care of those hard-to-buy-for people on their lists. She enjoyed it—the rush, the interaction with customers, the excitement over a particular item that someone decided was “just perfect!” She didn’t have time to waste thinking of Brent.
Yesterday evening, though, she’d thought of him plenty. He was interesting. More so than the men she’d met of late, who mostly bored her with their attentions. She wasn’t certain what exactly appealed to her about Brent, but she’d figure it out. When she had the time.
He came in at quarter to twelve, his lean cheeks ruddy from the cold. Shadow sent him a quick smile, then turned back to the young women who were trying to decide between two different board games.
“This one’s a little more expensive and it takes longer to play. But the concessions each player has to give were designed and written up by a well-known psychologist, and—” she bobbed her eyebrows “—guaranteed effective.”
The women giggled, suitably impressed. Shadow went on, motioning to the other game. “This one’s more good-natured fun. You make up your own concessions or rewards as you go along, depending on your partner.” The choice was made and Shadow rang up the sale, wishing the women luck and reminding them to enjoy themselves.
Brent approached her, taking in her outfit with careful consideration. Shadow grinned at him. “Do you like it?”
She’d dressed like a snow bunny. Her thick cotton top fell to the middle of her thighs and she wore leggings tucked into soft leather boots. As she turned for him, holding her arms out to the side, Brent read the words written across her back: Face It—Forty Never Looked This GOOD.
He shook his head. “Very nice. But you’re not forty.”
“How would you know?” She was thirty-one, but she hadn’t told him that. She smiled. “My driver’s license is safely tucked away in my bag. Have you been peeking?”
All he said was, “I know you’re not forty.”
“Do you think I look good for forty?”
“Too good,” he said meaningfully. “I thought women always claimed to be younger, not older.”
“Now why would I do that? If I said I was twenty, people would think I looked terrible for such a young age. But for forty, I ain’t so bad.”
“Lady, I think you look damn fine regardless of your age.”
He said it so sincerely her heart gave a quick thump of excitement. She hid that reaction well. “Let me get my coat, drag my assistant up from the back and then we can go.”
When Shadow returned from the back room, she was followed by a woman whose arms were ladened with printed
