no need to stress.
Paul Reyes led the way down the corridor, beyond the entry hall to the sprawling kitchen that claimed a sizeable chunk of the downstairs floor space on the front side of the house. Gleaming stainless steel appliances maintained the modern edge, but lots of granite and tumbled marble infused an organic element. The limestone floor and wall-to-wall windows, along with the simple furnishings, ensured a casual elegance. With a deftness born of repetition, her host prepared a blend of fresh juices and garnished the concoction with sprigs of mint.
He offered a stemmed glass to her. “Far more healthy than wine.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the glass and sipped the blend, careful not to show her surprise at his nonalcoholic choice. “I suppose you work out, as well.” He certainly looked fit. She told herself she hadn’t really noticed, that making the comment was about laying the groundwork for a common physical connection, but that was only part truth. Paul Reyes was a handsome man with a deep, silky voice and just enough of an accent to make him inordinately sexy. And the body—well, there was one for the covers of the hottest magazines. She imagined that the man would look damn good in most anything or nothing at all. Getting close to him wouldn’t be a chore.
“Staying fit is imperative to my image,” he insisted with a blatant survey of her, from her pink toenails to her unrestrained hair. “The mind and body must be in agreement. Don’t you agree?”
The way he looked at her set her further on edge. It shouldn’t have. She needed him to be attracted to her. That was the point of the scoop-necked blouse and the form-fitting, low-slung slacks. But that predatory gleam in his eyes was more than she’d bargained for this early in the game. Or maybe she just hadn’t expected that kind of overt reaction from a man so withdrawn in almost every other respect.
“Oh yes,” she stammered. “I heartily agree.”
He smiled, obviously enjoying her discomfort. “Are you one of the Los Angeles gallery’s regular buyers?” he inquired. “This is what you do?”
“Actually,” she heaved a beleaguered sigh and launched her well-planned story, “no. I was asked to approach you personally because I’m such a huge fan of your work. The owner is hoping my passion will prove persuasive enough to close the deal. I hate to come off as a starstruck fan, but that’s exactly what I am.”
If her answer moved him in any way, he kept it hidden well. Those dark eyes remained steady on her until the need to shift with uneasiness was nearly overwhelming. She held her ground, refused to allow him to see that he made her far too nervous. This was her new career. She refused to fail.
“Passion is a very powerful tool, Renee. In my line of work, it is critical to all involved. One should never be ashamed of passion.”
Beyond the idea of how much she liked the way he said her name, his answer brushed her senses the wrong way. Gave her pause.
My line of work.
Perhaps it was simply a matter of communication differences. After all, English was not his first language. Semantics, she argued. No need to send her suspicion radar to the next level over the way he used a couple of words. She was overanalyzing. Being nervous made her do that. Once she relaxed more fully into her role, she would be fine.
“Shall we get back to the proposal?” she prompted, needing her strict agenda to get her back on track. Her success in the courtroom was rooted, first and foremost, on extensive preparation. She needed to treat this assignment along those same lines until she hit her stride with the whole “getting comfortable” part.
He placed his half-empty glass on the island’s sleek granite counter. She did the same. This time they walked side by side as they retraced the route to his library. The sun had sunk deep on the horizon, melting into a golden blanket over the vast blue ocean and offering a spectacular panorama.
The idea that drug money may have contributed to this magnificent residence caused the muscles in her jaw to tighten. But this man was not a part of that, she reminded herself. It didn’t mean that he hadn’t accepted money or gifts from his evil sibling, but he was innocent of his brother’s crimes. If anyone should feel guilty, it was her, but she did not. The end justified the means. That was her new motto. She intended to use him to lure his death-dealing brother into a trap. Despite the break in the relationship with his only sibling, biology dictated a bond that assuredly went deep. He might hate what his brother did, but to plot his sibling’s downfall was another concept altogether, one toward which he might very well be disinclined. The only way to most reasonably assure his cooperation was to mislead him. She’d already lied to him repeatedly and would several times more before this first meeting was over. Paul Reyes would have no fond memories of her when this was over.
“As you can see,” she said as she moved through the first section of the presentation, “our gallery would display your ability to capture the essence of the sand and water and sky to its fullest advantage. Southern California isn’t unlike the Keys, in more ways than perhaps you realize. Your work would fit in very nicely, would bring a fresh perspective to our gallery’s already outstanding offerings. We have an international clientele, more so than you’ll find here, no disrespect to the local talent or trade.”
“Please,” he made a sweeping motion toward the computer screen with one hand, “go on.”
Renee couldn’t determine if he was intrigued yet, but she still had his full attention and that was something. As the final slide in the proposal was displayed on the screen, she made the next move. “I know you’ll need some time to think over all of this. Perhaps we could have dinner tomorrow evening.” She lifted one shoulder in the barest of shrugs. “Discuss any questions you might have in a more relaxed, nonbusiness rendezvous.”
His hesitation was expected. As a recluse, he would have no desire to leave his sanctuary. However, the invitation needed to be standard. The average person wouldn’t know all that she did about him. The slightest misstep could give away her true agenda.
“That’s an excellent idea, Renee.” He glanced at the computer screen one last time. “I’ll review your proposal more thoroughly and make my final decision. I would prefer, however,” his gaze connected with hers once more, “to have our next rendezvous here. I assume that will be acceptable to you?”
Exactly the answer she had hoped for. “Of course.” Now for the finishing touch. “I’ll be in town for the next few days. My schedule is completely at your disposal, Mr. Reyes.”
“Paul,” he suggested for the first time since her arrival.
She smiled, held his gaze a beat. “Paul.” This she said with a breathy quality that caused his pupils to flare and the corners of his mouth to lift slightly. The idea that she might be better at this than she’d anticipated gave her confidence a major boost.
The tension crackled ever so slightly as he blatantly assessed her for a second time, taking his slow, sweet time. “Seven,” he said, breaking the spell, “would that work for you?”
“Seven definitely works for me.” She reached for her bag. “I look forward to discussing our future working relationship and seeing more of your paintings.” Her expression turned visibly hopeful with the last.
“That can certainly be arranged.” He placed his hand at the small of her back as he guided her to the hall and toward the front door. “My studio provides a great deal of inspiration.” He paused as they reached the entry hall and looked directly at her. “At times, however, I find myself in need of additional stimulation.
