Crystal are chatting, and leans in and whispers, “You handled him like the queen you are, baby. Well played. Well played.”
I smile at the compliment, and shiver with the feel of his fingers on my nape, the touch teasing me in all kinds of ways and places. It amazes me how easily this can make me feel wildly inappropriate at my most tense of moments. I like this about him. I like this about me with him.
We both twirl pasta around our forks and with his voice still low, for my ears only, he glances over at me. “Based on my present thoughts, you should be blushing right now.”
I grin and meet his stare, daring to reply with, “You should, too.”
He laughs, a low, rough, sexy rumble that is almost as perfect as his music. Oh yes. I am feeling so very inappropriate right now. Which of course is exactly when Crystal decides to glance our direction, a knowing smile breaks on her lovely face. She then delicately clears her throat and straightens. “We should talk business before we run out of time.” She checks her watch. “Oh yes. We definitely need to do this now. I have a meeting in twenty minutes.”
“I’m all ears,” I say, sliding my plate aside.
She picks right up where we left off. “Forty percent of our commission on the wine,” she says. “If that works for you, I’ll email you the structure, but it varies per negotiated terms with the clients.”
“I need a negotiating tool with a particular client, so even without looking at the structure,” I say, “I can make it work.”
“I think you’ll be pleased,” she says, “and if this goes well for all parties, Mark and I have a proposition for you. We have clients that need us to move items well before auctions are held. We start mini private auctions by just calling known bidders or even hunting down new bidders. I do that. You do that, too, in your business, which makes us a perfect match. I’d like you to consider doing it for us. As a contractor to start, but we might have a more official, larger idea to discuss as well.”
“If you do well,” Mark adds. “I’m not convinced anyone can step into Crystal’s shoes. Crystal seems to believe you can.”
“Perhaps,” Kace says, “because she saved your ass with that violin.”
“She did,” Mark replies, looking at me. “A feat that should have required years of training, not a crash course with a client.”
“You know what I love about you, husband?” Crystal asks, glancing up at Mark. “Your extreme arrogance. It’s so powerful. It really turns me on.”
His lips quirk ever so slightly. “I don’t believe that’s an appropriate topic for the table, but if we must go there.”
She smirks and looks at me. “What do you say? I could send you a list of items to give this a try.”
Mark is a jerk. Crystal’s wonderful. Gio’s gone. I have to pay the bills. Opportunity is a blessing. And so I say, “Yes, please. I’ll get started right away.”
“Speaking of the violin,” Mark comments. “Why did it have your brother’s attention?”
“It had Sofia’s attention,” I say. “She had my brother’s attention.”
“That seems too simple,” Mark comments.
But it’s not simple, I think. Sex and women were always Gio’s weaknesses. I’m about to reply when the waiter offers us dessert and we all decline. Mark reaches for the check and Kace doesn’t fight him. Crystal’s phone buzzes with a text and she gives it a glance and me a grim nod. “Our doorman, Harold, doesn’t remember Gio or anyone named Sofia.”
Unbidden, another dead-end stabs me with disappointment, but I manage a tight, heartfelt, “Thank you for trying.” I set my napkin on the table. “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room before we leave. I’ll just be a moment.” I don’t look at Kace. If I do, I might get outwardly emotional when a quick freshening up will pull me back into check. I stand and catch a waiter. “Bathroom?”
He points to the back end of the bar, which requires me to walk past Savage. He rotates his stool around in my direction as I approach. “Bathroom,” I tell him but I don’t stop walking, half expecting him to follow. I hurry on my way, cutting past the bar, down the hallway, when Kace is suddenly there.
He catches my arm and turns me to him, pressing me against the wall, his fingers tangling into my hair. His masculine