a small pot of butter to melt.
“I’m going for authenticity. Believe me, it makes a difference.” She watched his quick, clean movements. “You need some help with that?”
“I’m fine.” He crossed the room and retrieved a basting brush from a cutlery drawer. “It makes a whole quarter of an inch difference,” he said as he walked back toward her, brandishing the brush for emphasis. “Not to mention several thousand dollars.”
“Thanks for not mentioning that.”
“No problem.” He swirled the brush in the melting butter.
“Why do you care so much?” she asked.
“Why do you care so much?” he countered.
“I’m the decorator. It’s my job to worry about the details.”
“I’m the hotel owner. It’s my job to worry about the bottom line.”
“I won’t go over budget.”
“You won’t come in under budget, either.”
“That’s why they call it a budget. I’m going to build you the best restaurant I can within the financial limit you set.”
“Nobody’s going to notice the damn wainscoting.”
“Maybe not specifically—”
“See?” He basted the lobster tails with his left hand, stirring the chocolate with his right. “Why waste the money on something nobody will notice?”
She dragged her gaze away from his mesmerizing hands. “Not specifically the wainscoting, but they’ll notice the overall effect. Like the top of the wine rack. Will some customer walk in and say ‘Look, honey, the pattern of the marble on the wine rack flows into the overall scheme of the atrium’? Of course not. But, subconsciously, they’ll notice. There’s a fine line between four and five stars.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Stick with me, baby, and I’ll push you over the top.”
Derek stopped stirring and basting, and he stared at her for a moment. The sensual heat in his deep blue eyes was unmistakable. “Left yourself wide-open once again,” he whispered low and husky.
She drew back, confused.
A slow smile crossed his face. “Much as I’d like to go ‘over the top’ with you, baby, I don’t think it’s a good idea, given our current adversarial professional relationship.”
Her face heated. “I only meant…”
He chuckled. “I know. But, damn, you give a guy openings that are just too good to pass up.”
He turned his attention back to cooking. “Tell you what, in the spirit of cooperation, I’ll give on the stain if you give on the wainscoting.”
Candice blinked. She didn’t plan to give on anything. “But, the wainscoting is—”
“A difference of thousands of dollars.” He raised one eyebrow. “For a quarter of an inch. Can we get a negotiation going here or not?”
Candice was silent for a moment. It wasn’t her first choice, but she supposed they could make the wainscoting work. “If you get the wainscoting, I get to choose all of the stain and paint colors,” she said.
Derek stared at her. “You want me to give you all the stain and paint colors for a mere quarter of an inch?”
“It’s thousands of dollars,” she countered.
He grinned. “Done.” He lifted the spoon out of the chocolate, blowing on the liquid to cool it.
“What do you think?” Cupping his hand several inches below the spoon, he moved it toward her mouth.
She leaned hesitantly forward and licked the tip of the spoon. The rich, dark, sensual chocolate flavor bloomed in her mouth. She closed her eyes and moaned in appreciation.
“Go to the head of the class,” she said.
“Why, thank you, teacher.” Somehow he made the words sound like a caress.
3
“HAVE YOU CONSIDERED becoming a chef?” Across the candlelit table from Derek, Candice took another bite of her grilled lobster and her lips curved into a blissful smile.
He couldn’t help the small surge of pride he felt at her obvious appreciation. “And give up my budding decorating career?”
“No offense,” Candice said, lifting her glass of Chablis. “But, you should probably go with your strengths.”
“I’m crushed.” But he couldn’t help grinning.
It was the first time in weeks he’d had time to cook—the first time in months he didn’t have to rush off to a meeting or a conference call after dinner. And mental gymnastics with Candice did have their moments. When he was done reaming his brother out for this stunt, he’d have to thank him.
She waved her long-stemmed glass. The lights of downtown Seattle glittered in the distance behind her, and glowing pleasure-boats cruised below on their way back to the marina. “Hey, even you over-achievers can’t be good at everything.”
He sat back in his chair, gazing at her from beneath raised eyebrows. “From a waste of air to an over-achiever all in one night.”
“You’re still a waste of air when it comes to decorating. Accept defeat with dignity and grace.”
Derek picked up his own glass of wine, taking a sip. One thing about being locked up in the Lighthouse Restaurant, they sure didn’t need to rough it on the culinary front. “And get the heck away from your renovation job, right?”
She nodded. “Exactly. Why don’t you go out and raise some venture capital or something. Leave the restaurant to me.”
“Venture capital?”
“I minored in economics.”
“You’re suggesting I should go out and make money, and you’ll stay here and spend it.”
“Now you’re catching on,” she voiced in a singsong, leaning forward. Then she smiled, and her green eyes lit up in the flickering candlelight. Her eyes were bright, her lips were soft and her cheeks were delicately flushed.
For the hundredth time that night he was blown away by her beauty.
“We could have a symbiotic relationship,” she said eagerly.
A shot of desire rippled through him. “You’re handing me openings on a silver platter again.”
“Symbiotic means mutually beneficial.” She smirked.
“I know.” He could think of so many mutually beneficial things he’d like
