disbelief in his gaze when he saw her almost made her laugh—or maybe cry since it told her precisely what he thought of her as a woman. He was quick to conceal his shock. Too late, she wanted to say.
He shoved back his chair and stood, approaching in order to take her hand in his and guide her to the table as though they were a couple, instead of boss/employee. “Gabe, you remember my PA, Angie Colter.”
Gabe Moretti was every inch as gorgeous as Lucius, with hair as raven dark. But instead of eyes to match, his were the shade of antique gold, filled with mystery and predatory intent. He stood to greet her, his gaze sharp and appraising. Then he smiled with singular charm and offered her his hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Colter,” he said in a voice that made her think of smoke.
“Please, call me Angie, Mr. Moretti.”
He inclined his head. “Let’s make it Angie and Gabe, shall we?” Before Lucius had the chance, he pulled out the chair for her, acting the part of the host—and no doubt annoying her boss in the process. “I believe the last time I saw you, you were shopping for a house. How did that turn out?”
Impressed that he’d remembered, she rewarded him with a broad smile. “I closed on a small cottage in Ballard last month. It needs a bit of work, mostly cosmetic, but considering I picked it up for an excellent price, I don’t mind in the least.”
“Smart. But, then, knowing Devlin, he only hires the best.” He shot Lucius a challenging glance. “Perhaps I should steal her from you.”
Lucius didn’t rise to the bait. “One of the qualities I look for in an employee is loyalty. You’re welcome to make Angie an offer. If she accepts, it simply means my assessment of her was mistaken and I’m better off finding a new PA.” He turned his black gaze on Angie and his smile smoldered like the smoke from hell. “Have I made a mistake?”
Good Lord, how in the world had she ended up in the middle of this tug-of-war? Instead of answering the question, she gave Andre a discreet nod, relieved beyond measure when he crossed to the table with the bottle of scotch. It proved the perfect distraction. With the ease of long practice, she turned the conversation to the latest financial market news. That successfully navigated them through the pouring of their drinks. Fortunately, the restaurant owner, Joe Milano, appeared just then with a platter of cold shellfish he’d prepared for them, personally.
He offered each man his hand, greeting them by name. He even took Angie’s hand, kissing it with a natural ease that charmed. “You are absolutely delectable this evening. Who’s going to look at my food when they can look at you?” he teased. “I should hide you away so my dishes can take center stage once again.”
“I’m not sure Maddie would approve of that,” Angie replied with an answering smile. At the mention of his wife’s name, his brown eyes lit up and the expression that came into his face caused a pang of envy. What she wouldn’t give to have a man look like that at the mere mention of her name. “Is she still trying to burn down the house?”
Joe chuckled. “Let’s just say I keep her well away from the kitchen. And since our daughters all seem to follow in her footsteps—with one delightful exception—they are also banned.”
“A future chef in the making?”
“Without question.” Joe didn’t linger after that. Wishing them buon appetito, he returned to the kitchen.
She didn’t give either of her dinner companions the chance to cause further trouble. Once their waiter served them choice tidbits of the appetizer, she nudged the conversation ever so gently into the direction of the most recent changes to building inspections and codes, a subject dear to the hearts of both men. That got them through the appetizers, over the hurdle of a visit from the sommelier and a prolonged discussion of dinner options, before leaping directly into a terse debate over which dish was Joe’s most impressive specialty.
Honestly, men never failed to exasperate her.
The instant their dinner arrived, she deliberately turned the conversation to the Richter project, hoping against hope it would get the focus off her and onto business where it belonged. “Your remodel of the Diamondt building was stunning,” she informed Gabe with utter sincerity. “Are you planning something similar for this venture?”
“To be honest, I mainly handle the structural renovations.” The instant he nudged his empty plate to one side, a busboy whisked it away.
“Who orchestrated the interior design? They did an impressive job of melding a forties retro feel with all the modern conveniences.”
Gabe hesitated, his eyes darkening in a way that warned of some deep-seated displeasure. “I hired a San Francisco firm for the remodel. Romano Restorations.”
“I’m not familiar with them.”
“No, they’re a fairly new firm.” He glanced at Lucius. “Assuming we can come to terms, we may want to consider them for this job, too.”
Lucius tilted his head to one side, his gaze shrewd. “You have reservations,” he stated, picking up on the same hesitation Angie had.
“Nothing to do with their work or their owner. Constantine Romano is outstanding at his job. It’s his wife who concerns me.” He gave a careless shrug, drawing attention to the impressive width of his shoulders and chest. “It’s a personal matter, one that has no bearing on business.”
A cynical light flickered to life in Lucius’s eyes and Angie could guess what he was thinking. “It’s not that,” she told him before she stopped to think.
Instantly, two sets of masculine eyes swiveled to dissect her. “It’s not … what?” they both demanded, almost in unison, and she winced.
She sat for a split second and stewed. When would she learn to keep her big mouth shut? Granted, Lucius had included her tonight because she tended to be good at assessing people and situations. She had a knack for reading between the lines and, for the most part, coming up with accurate conclusions. Still, he probably would have preferred to have that assessment made in private. Oh, well. Too late now.
Taking a moment longer to consider how to answer their question, she went with the truth. The two businessmen were far too sharp to believe anything less. She glanced at Lucius and fought to maintain her equilibrium beneath his narrow-eyed glare. “When Gabe says it’s personal, you assumed it meant he’d had an affair with Romano’s wife. It’s something else.” She took a sip of wine in the hopes of settling her nerves. It didn’t work. “Something clearly private.”
“How do you know?” Again in unison.
She sighed. Could the two be any more like peas in a pod? She turned to Pea #1, aka … her boss. “Because he’s angry, but not in a you-done-me-wrong sort of way. Plus, his anger isn’t directed at both of them the way it would be if he’d had his woman stolen from him.” And wouldn’t that comment cut close to the bone with Lucius, considering he’d lost his woman to his best friend. She hastened to turn to Pea #2, aka … her boss’s occasional competitor. “Considering the temperature just bottomed out to subarctic—shiver, shiver—it’s clearly a private matter that you wouldn’t talk about regardless of the incentive.” She smiled brightly. “More scotch, or should we get down to serious business over dessert?”
“Dessert and serious business,” Gabe decided.
“With a little
