her acquiescence for a date.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure he could accommodate her request. “My house isn’t huge.” Granted, the twenty-five hundred square feet of living space he’d purchased a little over a year ago sometimes seemed monstrous and too damned quiet and lonely in the evenings. He had his cat, Camelot, to keep him company though, and she was the perfect roommate. Female and loving, she didn’t make unrealistic demands on his time and never complained about his sometimes grueling work schedule and late nights.
Absently, Jessica tucked a swath of hair behind her ear, revealing a small diamond stud earring that sparkled with her slightest movement. Not surprisingly, Ryan found her lobe incredibly sexy, and wondered if he’d elicit a shiver or moan from her should he ever have the pleasure of nibbling on that soft, enticing piece of flesh.
“Can it accommodate about thirty people?” she asked, bringing his musings back to the present.
He rubbed his thumb along his jaw as he considered her question. “If they’re spread out between the living room, dining room, and family room on the bottom level. And if we move my furniture around to make more open space.”
“We can make it work.” The exuberance brightening her features made him realize how much this party meant to her, and just how close she was to her sister.
From the sketchy details Ryan had learned at Brooke’s wedding, they had no other siblings. Their mother lived in West Virginia with her second husband, and when he’d casually asked Jessica about her father, he’d received a cool, emotionless response that their real father was no longer a part of their lives and hadn’t been for some time. It was all the information he’d gleaned, but it had been enough for him to suspect that she’d had a rough childhood.
She set her nearly empty cup on the small table between the two chairs, her eyes brimming with excitement. “We’ll send Brooke and Marc a separate invitation on the pretense of you having a New Year’s Eve celebration so they’ll be surprised and won’t try and talk us out of the party.”
He took a drink of his warm cappuccino and didn’t reply to her monologue, since she wasn’t really asking for his input. He hadn’t said yes to using his house, either, but Jessica was obviously way ahead of him on that score and assuming that he’d agree. She had the party all planned out in her mind, and he was getting the distinct impression that he was just along for the ride.
He intended to veer her off course and make the excursion much more interesting.
“I’ll take care of the other invitations, the decorations, catering, and a cake, and if you have a stereo system I’ll bring along some CDs with romantic music that we can play.” She grinned, bowling him over with that guileless smile that lacked her normal sass or reserve. “And I’ll find a gift that I know they’ll both enjoy, which we can go in on together, if you’d like. You won’t have to worry about a thing except writing up a speech to toast the newlyweds.”
How convenient, he thought in amusement, knowing exactly what she was attempting to do—take complete charge and keep his interaction with her to a minimum. “And splitting the cost of the party with you, of course.”
“I’ll keep the expenses as minimal as possible. I promise. And if the expense of the party gets to be too much for you, I’ll cover the costs.”
Money wasn’t a concern for him. Not in the least. “I can afford whatever you have in mind.”
She leaned forward in her chair expectantly, her eyes hopeful. “Then the party is a go at your place?”
He saw this idea of hers as his last opportunity to insinuate himself in her life, to work past those barriers she put up with him, to spend quality time with her and tempt and seduce her, and see where their attraction might lead.
Picking up his favorite Mont Blanc pen, he rolled it between his fingers. “I’ll agree to the party at my place on one condition.”
She made a snickering sound. “You can’t agree without striking some kind of bargain, can you?”
“I can’t help it.” He shrugged. “Making deals is part of my business. Why settle for less than what I know I can get?”
“Call it what it is, Matthews—wearing your opponent down.”
He feigned a wince at her barb. “I’d like to think of it as drive and ambition to succeed. I haven’t gotten as far as I have without it.”
Derision colored her gaze. “In your illustrious career as a divorce attorney, or with me?”
Somewhere along the way their conversation had taken a personal slant, and it seemed as though his ambitious nature was a source of contention for her. “With both, actually.”
The leg crossed over her opposite knee bounced impatiently. “All right then, counselor, let’s hear it. What are your conditions?”
He set his pen in its holder. “That I’m part of the planning, every step of the way.”
Her jaw dropped, and she stared at him incredulously. “You’re joking.”
He blinked, and kept his face carefully blank. “I’m completely serious.”
“You don’t have time to do the planning,” she insisted, obviously rattled by his suggestion and what it implied—spending time with him.
“How do you know what I have time for?”
She shook her head in an attempt to divert his interest. “I work out of my apartment with my medical transcripts, and can take care of calls and errands during the day. Why would you want to worry about any of this when I’m more than willing to handle everything?”
Knowing if he revealed his true motives he’d never stand a chance with her, he opted for the obvious. “Well, for starters, I’m paying for half of this party, which gives me the right to contribute my opinion on everything, yes?”
Very reluctantly, she said, “Well…yes.”
“And I’m opening my house to thirty-something people, so I’d like to know what to expect, and what you plan to do.” He flipped through his daily calendar and summed up his schedule fairly quickly. “I do have some court appearances coming up and cases that I need to close, but for the most part my nights and weekends are wide open.”
Frustration all but radiated from her—there was nothing she could refute. She sat back in her chair with a small huff. “Why don’t sharks attack lawyers?”
Suppressing a grin, he reached for a piece of letterhead and retrieved his pen again. “Why?”
“Professional courtesy,” she muttered.
He chuckled deeply as he drew a diagram to his house for her. “Is that your way of saying I got my way?”
“Yeah, you got your way.” She didn’t sound happy about the fact.
He added his address and home phone number to the piece of paper. Standing, he circled around the desk and handed her the stationery with his bold script on it. “Here are directions to my place. How about we start on the planning tomorrow since it’s Saturday? I’m free—how about you?”
Tentatively,
