thank you. And no dinner.” She waved aside the gilt-edged menu he offered and locked those forest-glade eyes on Dev. “I’ll just be here a few minutes, then I’ll leave Mr. Hunter to enjoy his meal.”
The server departed, and Dev reclaimed his seat. “Are you sure you don’t want dinner?”
“I’m sure.” She placed loosely clasped hands on the table and launched an immediate offensive. “We’re not here to exchange pleasantries, Mr. Hunter.”
Dev sat back against his chair, his long legs outstretched beneath the starched tablecloth and his gaze steady on her face. Framed by those dark, glossy waves, her features fascinated him. The slight widow’s peak, the high cheekbones, the aquiline nose—all refined and remote and in seeming contrast to those full, sensual lips. She might have modeled for some famous fifteenth-or sixteen-century sculptor. Dev was damned if he knew which.
“No, we’re not,” he agreed, still intrigued by that face. “Have you talked to your sister?”
The clasped hands tightened. Only a fraction, but that small jerk was a dead giveaway.
“I haven’t been able to reach her.”
“Neither have I. So what do you propose we do now?”
“I propose you wait.” She drew in a breath and forced a small smile. “Give me more time to track Gina down before you report your medallion missing or...or...”
“Or stolen?”
The smile evaporated. “Gina didn’t steal that piece, Mr. Hunter. I admit it appears she took it for some reason, but I’m sure...I know she’ll return it. Eventually.”
Dev played with the tumbler containing his scotch, circling it almost a full turn before baiting the trap.
“The longer I wait to file a police report, Ms. St. Sebastian, the more my insurance company is going to question why. A delay reporting the loss could void the coverage.”
“Give me another twenty-four hours, Mr. Hunter. Please.”
She hated to beg. He heard it in her voice, saw it in the way her hands were knotted together now, the knuckles white.
“All right, Ms. St. Sebastian. Twenty-four hours. If your sister hasn’t returned the medallion by then, however, I...”
“She will. I’m sure she will.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
She drew in another breath: longer, shakier. “I’ll pay you the appraised value.”
“How?”
Her chin came up. Her jaws went tight. “It will take some time,” she admitted. “We’ll have to work out a payment schedule.”
Dev didn’t like himself much at the moment. If he didn’t have a multibillion-dollar deal hanging fire, he’d call this farce off right now. Setting aside the crystal tumbler, he leaned forward.
“Let’s cut to the chase here, Ms. St. Sebastian. I had my people run an in-depth background check on your featherheaded sister. On you, too. I know you’ve bailed Gina out of one mess after another. I know you’re currently providing your grandmother’s sole support. I also know you barely make enough to cover her medical co-pays, let alone reimburse me for a near-priceless artifact.”
Every vestige of color had drained from her face, but pride sparked in those mesmerizing eyes. Before she could tell him where to go and how to get there, Dev sprang the trap.
“I have an alternate proposal, Ms. St. Sebastian.”
Her brows snapped together. “What kind of a proposal?”
“I need a fiancée.”
For the second time in as many days Dev saw her composure crumble. Her jaw dropping, she treated him to a disbelieving stare.
“Excuse me?”
“I need a fiancée,” he repeated. “I was considering Gina for the position. I axed that idea after thirty minutes in her company. Becoming engaged to your sister,” he drawled, “is not for the faint of heart.”
He might have stunned her with his proposition. That didn’t prevent her from leaping to the defense. Dev suspected it came as natural to her as breathing.
“My sister, Mr. Hunter, is warm and generous and openhearted and...”
“Gone to ground.” He drove the point home with the same swift lethality he brought to the negotiating table. “You, on the other hand, are available. And you owe me.”
“I owe you?”
“You and that magazine you work for.” Despite his best efforts to keep his irritation contained, it leaked into his voice. “Do you have any idea how many women have accosted me since that damned article came out? I can’t even grab a meatball sub at my favorite deli without some female writing her number on a napkin and trying to stuff it into my pants pocket.”
Her shock faded. Derision replaced it. She sat back in her chair with her lips pooched in false sympathy.
“Ooh. You poor, poor sex object.”
“You may think it’s funny,” he growled. “I don’t. Not with a multibillion-dollar deal hanging in the balance.”
That wiped the smirk off her face. “Putting you on our Ten Sexiest Singles list has impacted your business? How?”
Enlightenment dawned in almost the next breath. The smirk returned. “Oh! Wait! I’ve got it. You have so many women throwing themselves at you that you can’t concentrate.”
“You’re partially correct. But it’s not a matter of not being able to concentrate. It’s more that I don’t want to jeopardize the deal by telling the wife of the man I’m negotiating with to keep her hands to herself.”
“So instead of confronting the woman, you want to hide behind a fiancée.”
The disdain was cool and well-bred, but it was there. Dev was feeling the sting when he caught a flutter of movement from the corner of one eye. A second later the flutter evolved into a tall, sleek redhead being shown to an empty table a little way from theirs. She caught Dev’s glance, arched a penciled brow and came to a full stop beside their table.
“I know you.” She tilted her head and put a finger to her chin. “Remind me. Where have we met?”
“We haven’t,” Dev replied, courteous outside, bracing inside.
“Are you sure? I never forget a face. Or,” she added as her lips curved in a slow, feline smile, “a truly excellent butt.”
The grimace that crossed Hunter’s face gave Sarah a jolt of fierce satisfaction. Let him squirm, she thought gleefully. Let him writhe like a specimen under a microscope. He deserved the embarrassment.
Except...
He didn’t. Not really. Beguile had put him under
