put her on speaker and crossed his arms behind his head. “So what can my...firm...do for you, Ms. Dawn?”
“I thought we were going to talk about what I can do for your...” She swore softly at herself in the background. It sent a little shiver down his spine to know how flustered she was when he wasn’t even standing in front of her. “About the job. With Smok Biotech,” she hastened to add. He wondered how flushed her skin was right now. With the chocolate-brown hair bobbed sharply at her chin and those little points of cherry red at the ends, it would make her eyes seem even larger.
“You want the job at the lab.” He spoke lazily, imagining her large gray eyes blinking at him.
“If the offer’s still open. And it depends on exactly what the job is.”
“The offer is most definitely still open. Why don’t we meet for dinner tonight to talk over the specifics?”
“Tonight?” Her voice went up slightly at the end, a little squeak of surprise.
Lucien smiled. “Is that a problem?”
“It’s almost eight o’clock.”
“Too close to your bedtime? I’m sure I can accommodate that.”
“No, it’s just—it’s short notice. I wasn’t planning on going out tonight. It would take me a little while to get ready.”
“It’s just a business dinner. You don’t need to impress me.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Her tone was clipped.
He loved getting under her skin. Lucien grinned at the thought. He’d like to get deep under it. Or inside it. In a manner of speaking. Lucien shook himself out of his little daydream. That wasn’t going to do him any good.
“Why don’t we meet at Cress at L’Auberge in an hour? Is that enough time?”
“Are they open that late?”
“They will be for me.”
* * *
The last time he’d seen her, she’d been dressed as a bridesmaid in a bloodred chiffon dress that swung around her hips when she walked. Undeniably flattering, but he’d suspected it wasn’t the sort of thing she normally wore. Neither was what she had on tonight—a conservative navy blue pencil skirt with a cream-colored blouse buttoned up far too high. It was an interesting look, perhaps something she thought a scientist would wear to a business dinner. The one departure from the conservative style was the pair of red crushed-velvet heels that drew attention to her fantastic legs.
“You really didn’t have to dress up for me,” he said as he pulled out her chair at their al fresco table above the babbling Oak Creek.
Theia sat almost suspiciously, like she wasn’t sure what he was doing. “I didn’t. I mean, this isn’t for you. It just didn’t seem like Cress was really a jeans and Tinker Bell T-shirt kind of place.”
He smiled, picturing her in a Tinker Bell T-shirt. That seemed a lot more her style.
“It’s whatever kind of place you want it to be, darling. Seriously. They know me here, and you may have noticed the place is empty.”
Theia’s eyes narrowed. “This doesn’t impress me, you know.”
“Of that I have absolutely no doubt.” Lucien laid his napkin in his lap. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve ordered ahead. I should have asked if you had any food allergies, though. Is filet mignon all right?”
“No. I mean, yes, filet mignon is fine. No, I don’t have any food allergies.” She was gripping her water glass tightly.
“You don’t have to be impressed, but there’s no need to be so tense, either. Would it help if we dive straight into business?”
“Yes.” She’d answered almost before the words left his mouth. He was really enjoying how flustered he seemed to make her.
“Okay, so to start, I take it you spoke to your brother-in-law about us.”
Theia took a sip of her water as if trying to buy time. “I got some information from him, yes.”
“So you know what it is we do. Outside the lab, that is.”
A questioning look appeared on her face for a moment before she masked it. “I do.” She didn’t. But she knew something. Something that was making her very nervous.
“As you know, there are two main divisions of Smok International: Smok Consulting and Smok Biotech. Let me explain how the consulting side of things intersects with the biotech business. Part of cleaning up other people’s messes is dealing with what triggers those incidents in the first place.”
Theia nodded, pretending to follow. The first course had arrived, and Lucien paused to try the bacon-wrapped lapin.
Theia’s face lit up as she took a bite of hers. “Wow. This is fantastic.”
“It doesn’t suck,” he agreed with a wink. “There are some perks to having too much money.”
“Do you?” Theia took another bite, visibly relaxing. “Have too much?”
“Me personally?” Lucien shrugged. “I don’t have any, as a matter of fact. This is all being expensed.” He smiled at her dubious expression. “Still unimpressed? My inheritance is all held in trust, and it’s dependent upon a few conditions I haven’t met yet, so I get to represent my father’s business, but everything I have belongs to him. Or to the company.” He indicated the suit he was wearing. “This thing? Expensed.” He flicked some mustard from his fork onto the jacket.
Theia laughed, the laughter obviously surprised out of her as she tried to cover her mouth, still full of rabbit. He liked seeing her laugh. It changed her whole face, like she’d let him in for a moment and let down her guard—something that was in place not just because she didn’t trust him but a guardedness that seemed ingrained in her.
“You said something about triggers.” Theia tried to go back to her frosty demeanor, moving beet curls around her plate. “What kind of triggers were you referring to?” She was obviously trying to get him to explain more about what she was pretending she already knew. He figured he’d oblige.
“Your brother-in-law, for instance—Rafe Diamante. I noticed that the uninvited guest at his wedding reception—the other uninvited guest—triggered a partial transformation. Strong emotion is often a trigger for such things. Most shape-shifters learn to control when they shift. Or to adapt, if the trigger happens to be out of their control, such as a full moon.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about Rafe.”
“I know an awful lot about everybody, darling.” He noticed her visible flinch at the familiarity, and he tried not to react. Part of being able to indulge in his extracurricular activities depended on making sure people saw him as a spoiled brat who’d never grown up. And part of him was a spoiled brat who’d never grown up, so it wasn’t all that hard to pull off. “I know a lot about a lot of influential people with unusual problems, I should say.”
The
