was so lost in thought that the voice startled her into a stumble. Jack’s hand tightened, giving her balance, but in contrast his tone was easy and friendly. “A poor pirate I’d have been, David. You know I get seasick.”
David Candalaria was a few inches shorter than Jack, his face less finely formed. He could have been considered handsome, with his muddy brown eyes, his hawkish nose, his strong square jaw, especially when everything about him whispered incredible wealth. But there was a softness to his features, an arrogance, a disdain for all people who were less. He shook Jack’s hand, but his gaze didn’t even stray toward Lisette, and she hoped it didn’t. She really preferred being totally off his radar.
“You come from a long line of pirates and blackguards, Jack. I come from a long line of number-crunchers. You’ve got to admit, yours sounds more fun.” Without waiting for a response, he went on. “I heard you were standing in line out front with the provincials. Why would you think you could get away with that here? Chen was supposed to send his assistant to bring you inside, but who knows where she went. You know how hard it is to get good help.” Heaving a sigh, he rolled his eyes, then seemed to notice Lisette for the first time. His smile turned smarmy, one she had seen many times but never directed at her. “And who is this?”
“Mr. Chen’s assistant,” Jack said drily, “who came to take me inside. I persuaded her to show me the gardens instead.”
“Hmm. Well, she can get back to work. Come on in, Jack. I’ll show you the King’s Treasures, then my chef will work his culinary magic for us.”
For a second time, Lisette rethought her common interests/disparate background theory. Jack Sinclair clearly didn’t mind associating with the provincials. David Candalaria clearly did. Being young, smart and passionate about art and earning every penny of her salary twice over meant nothing to him. Not having money or a pedigree did.
When she tried to pull her hand from Jack’s, he tightened his grip. “Actually, David, I was just persuading Lisette to have lunch with me at Fire. She’s insisting that work comes first, but maybe you could do me a favor and give her the day off. Then she can give me the grand tour after lunch.”
Lisette’s heart rate doubled. Lunch? The grand tour? Spending the entire day with Jack? Part of her hoped her boss refused. She needed time to strengthen her defenses before facing Jack privately again.
And part of her hoped Candalaria valued his friendship with a Sinclair more than he did a full day’s work from a nobody employee he couldn’t even remember. Besides, Padma would be so disappointed if Lisette missed a chance to experience Fire.
Candalaria looked her over again and, just as easily as before, dismissed her. “Sure, Jack, whatever you want. Hey, I’m having dinner with Gloria this evening. Why don’t you join us?”
“Sorry, I already have plans.”
Thankfully, Candalaria’s cell buzzed. Murmuring “Later, man,” he pulled it from his pocket and focused on the screen as he walked away.
Lisette took a few steps to the side, then folded her arms over her middle, each fist tucked behind a protective elbow. “Ms. Mantegna seems very attentive to him given that she thinks he’s the dullest and most boring man in the world.”
Jack nodded toward the museum and the lot where he was parked. Slowly they began moving that way. “Think of Aunt Gloria as a cat and David as her mouse. He seriously covets those rubies, and it amuses her to dangle them in front of him. He’s convinced that if he keeps trying, he’ll wear her down like water dripping on stone. Everyone else knows there’s not a chance in hell, but he considers his refusal to accept no for an answer one of his best qualities.”
“Do you accept no for an answer?”
He grinned. “You’re having lunch with me, aren’t you?”
“You could have asked me instead of my boss.”
If he heard the faint chastisement in her voice, he didn’t care. “Under normal circumstances, I would think his not recognizing you was just typical David behavior, but these aren’t normal circumstances, are they? How much effort do you put into staying invisible around him?”
“No effort. Most of the staff are invisible to him.”
“And when you’re stealing from him, that’s a big plus, isn’t it?”
“Again with the thief thing. You need a new song and dance.” She veered onto a narrow sidewalk that led to a door marked Employees Only and swiped her ID card through the reader. “I need to get my purse.”
He glanced at the long line of patrons waiting outside and at the crowded throngs inside. “I’ll wait here.”
“Lucky you. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“If I’d gone into the family business, my nickname would have been Lucky Jack.” His gaze met hers and held for a long moment. “Nice to know my luck’s holding today.”
Lisette’s breath caught in her chest; her feet refused to step across the threshold. It took raucous laughter inside to startle her into movement. “I’ll be back.”
His only response was a knowing smile.
It’s a fool’s plan, baby girl, Marley’s voice echoed in her head as she let the door close, then hurried along the corridor.
And Lisette was playing the part of the fool.
* * *
“You ever visit this place before it underwent its improvements?” Giving the last word a twist, Jack closed the menu and laid it on the table, watching as Lisette’s slender fingers shook out the napkin in her lap, her deep crimson nails a contrast to the creamy linen.
“My mother brought us here every year at Christmas.”
“Us?”
“Padma and me. It was our tradition for the Sunday after Thanksgiving. The house was decorated for Christmas, they served the typical holiday dishes and they held workshops on things like making candles, tying bows and making ornaments. A local choir sang carols in period dress, and if it snowed, they got out the family’s sleds and let us use them on the hill out back.” She glanced around the restaurant. “Is this the kind of place you usually seek out?”
He looked around, too. He’d been through the old house only once, when his family had stopped on their way elsewhere. He remembered exquisite woods and marble and incredibly detailed Persian rugs, heavily paneled rooms with huge fireplaces, elaborate architectural details in every room.
Now there was bamboo, hemp and sisal. Fabric panels draped from the ceiling, covered the walls, acted as doors and curtains, and the bed linens were made from soy fabrics, cashmere and alpaca. And everything was in shades of off-white, cream and tan.
“I usually stay at the Brown Palace, but someone suggested I try this hotel. The name should have served as a warning.”
“You visit Denver often?”
“Enough to have favorite places.” What was that faint emotion? Simple curiosity. Maybe a bit of pleasure. Definitely a little dismay. It was fitting that someone who’d gone to as much effort to remain anonymous as Bella Donna wouldn’t be happy with the
