She shrugged. “I can’t explain it, but there is a serious thrill in getting something for free. I practically shimmy in delight when my favorite makeup lady offers me a sample, even if it’s something I’ll never use. I thought a goody bag would be a fun way to leave our guests with warm fuzzies about the party.”
He continued to study the budget. As he read, she watched him. There was something so sexy about his eyes, she thought. And of course, his smile. She also liked the way he seemed comfortable in his own skin all the time.
She groaned silently. Damn. What happened to being ice? Ignore him. Which was easier said than done, considering how the man turned her on. Her resolve seemed to have all the tensile strength of potato chips.
He tossed the budget down on the desk. “I’ll take it to my partners right away. When do you need to hear back?”
“Within a week. The invitations need to be engraved. Some of the food has to be ordered well in advance, and I won’t even go into the trauma of picking out flowers.”
“Please don’t.” He leaned back in his chair. “I guess this means I need to get my tux into the dry cleaner.”
“Don’t complain to me about that,” she told him. “You know exactly what you’re going to wear, while I have the challenge of finding the perfect dress. I need to fit in, and yet not look like a guest.”
He raised his dark eyebrows. “What about your date?”
She hardly needed the pressure. “It’s a working night for me.”
“No Mr. Right?”
She couldn’t tell if he was making idle chitchat or trying to figure out if she was seeing someone. The possibility of the latter made her thighs tingle.
“Not even a Mr. Adequate. And you? Who will you bring?”
“I haven’t decided. How’s Brenna doing?” he asked.
“She’s hanging in there. Her mood seems to swing between a strong desire to get revenge and feelings of devastation.”
“The loss of a marriage is like a death. It takes time to move through the grieving process.”
His insight surprised her until she reminded herself that this was what the man did for a living. Of course he would be familiar with the process.
“Brenna said you won’t be meeting with her for a few weeks.”
He nodded. “We’ll speak regularly, but there’s no need for a face-to-face. I’ve filed all the papers. We’re going to have to deal with the settlement, and that’s what’s going to take the planning.”
“Do you know Jeff’s lawyer?”
Zach smiled again, but it wasn’t the least bit friendly. “I’ve dealt with him before. Not to worry. I’m a whole lot better.”
“Will you think I’m a complete bitch if I say ‘good’?”
“No. She’s your sister. She’s in pain and you want blood for that.” He studied her. “You can’t have it both ways, Katie. You can’t complain about my tactics, then use them for your own self-interest.”
“Actually, I can, but it’s tacky.” She shuffled through the papers she’d brought, pulling out three more sets of the budget. “So you don’t have to make copies.”
“Very thoughtful.”
She returned to the issue of her sister’s divorce. “While there might have been a snag in the ‘all Marcellis stay married forever’ theory, I’m still not on your side about breaking off Mia and David’s engagement.”
“I’m okay with that. However, I reserve the right to use any means at my disposal to change your mind.”
Hardly news, she thought wryly. “Why me?”
He leaned back in his chair and considered the question. “Two reasons. No, three. First, I have the most access to you. That means plenty of time to work my charm.”
She widened her eyes in surprise. “Is this charm? I hadn’t noticed.”
He grinned. “Second, your family listens to you. If I convince you, you’ll convince them, or at least Mia, and she’s the one who matters.”
“Never going to happen.”
“I’m taking bets.”
“Sure you are. What’s number three?”
He turned his gaze fully on her. Dark blue eyes narrowed slightly, and his expression turned predatory. “You’re the Marcelli who interests me the most.”
Two parts intrigued and one part terrified, she did her best to act unconcerned. “You’re saying spending this much time with Grandpa Lorenzo wouldn’t blow your skirt up?”
“I don’t wear a skirt, but if I did, no.”
“Those are really fabulous reasons. Thanks for sharing.” She began to pack up her briefcase.
“Leaving so soon?”
“I have another meeting.”
“What if I wanted to take a few minutes to work on convincing you?”
“No, thanks.”
He chuckled. “You haven’t heard what I had in mind.”
Oh, but she could imagine. “I don’t need to know.”
“You’re tempted.”
“Not even close.”
She had a feeling they both knew she was lying. She finished with her briefcase and went to work on the file box. When she was done, she turned back to him.
“Thanks for taking the time to see me today, Zach.”
He leaned forward and rested his hand on hers. “I’m always happy to see you, Katie. You know that.”
Was it her or had it just gotten really hot in here?
“How nice,” she said primly and stood. She’d wondered if he would kiss her again. Now that he hadn’t, she told herself she was happy. Really.
He stood. “You’re not easy.”
“That’s not much of a compliment, but thank you anyway.”
He grinned. “I’m not easy, either. If we manage to get through the next couple of months without killing each other, I’d like you to be my date for the fund-raiser.”
The phrase about being knocked over by a feather had never been more appropriate. A date? With Zach? Only a fool would say yes.
“I’ll be working,” she said instead.
“That’s okay with me.” He winked. “I like to watch.”
Zach never left work early and he almost never took Pacific Coast Highway home. But at three o’clock that afternoon, he did both. He drove west to Lincoln and turned south. The congested street met up with PCH in Marina Del Rey. It was a warm, sunny afternoon, with a hint of salt in the air. He opened his car’s sunroof, as well as the windows, inhaling deeply.
Despite his busy schedule, he felt restless. As he headed toward the airport, he saw jets taking off toward the ocean, heading west. Where were they going? Who was on board and what would they do when they arrived? He didn’t want to be going with them, but he did want something…A woman?
He had an answer to the question before he even asked it. Yes. A woman. And not just in bed, although he wouldn’t mind an hour or two of pleasure in a pair of willing arms. No, what he wanted was more than sex. He wanted to talk to someone long enough to grow comfortable. He wanted rhythms and patterns and familiarity.
How long had it been since he’d had a relationship that lasted more than two dates? A year? Longer, he thought. Although he’d never been interested in getting married again-Ainsley and his belief that long-term relationships didn’t work had cured him of that particular desire-he’d always enjoyed the company of women. Generally one at a time, and often for as long as a few months, then he walked away. He might not do marriage, but he was deeply committed to serial monogamy.
It had been a long time since anyone had tempted him for more than a night or two. He couldn’t remember the last woman who had surprised and challenged him. Some of it was his own fault. His position in a prominent law firm and his growing bank balance brought out a certain kind of woman. Those who were more interested in what he had than who he was. He’d gone out with enough of them to earn a reputation. Once he’d dated the shallow,
