He looked into her eyes. “Emeralds.”
“A popular choice—” she gave him a saccharine smile “—but I can’t help you. I focus on bridge jewelry made with semiprecious stones—”
“Designing fine jewelry with precious stones can’t be much different,” he countered.
Tamara hesitated before conceding grudgingly, “No, it’s not.”
“Great, then there’s no problem,” he responded smoothly. “Which stones do you like?”
She frowned. “I don’t see how that enters—”
“You’re a professional designer,” he diverted. “I’d like to know what you think. What stones do you prefer, assuming money isn’t an issue?”
She clenched her jaw. “Emeralds. Dark-toned ones.”
He gave a satisfied smile. “Then we’re in agreement. Make them big, and surrounded by diamonds.”
She pursed her lips. “Has it ever occurred to you that I simply might not like a commission from you?”
“Never.” He flashed a smile. “You’re in business to sell jewelry, and I’m here prepared to spend six figures.”
With an oblique reference, he cast another lure for her. He was a seasoned player at the negotiation table and now he brought his skills to bear.
She looked exasperated. “You are decisive.”
“Yes, I am.” He hid his satisfaction in the chink in her armor. “Aren’t most of your clients?”
“I don’t usually do custom orders,” she responded. “It’s not how I operate. The people who buy my jewelry appreciate something offbeat.”
He grinned. “Not your usual high-society bling bling.”
At her nod, he added, “Then I hope you can … accommodate me.”
It was sexual banter, but he was careful to keep his expression innocent. Nevertheless, she regarded him with suspicious displeasure for a moment.
“No request is too unusual,” she replied finally.
“What a relief.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I’ll need a deposit, and you’ll have to give me time to contact my suppliers and find the right stones. Fat emeralds are not among my usual orders.”
Touché. Still, he was happy to have her think of him as gaudy and tasteless as long as it got him one step closer to his goal. “Naturally, I understand. I hope I’m not putting you out.”
“Not any more than the unexpected appearance of a persistent would-be client,” she shot back.
The shadow of a smile touched his lips. Tamara certainly knew how to give as good as she got. What a waste she would have been on Tom. Sawyer was not the least bit repentant about his ruthless maneuvering.
Rather than respond directly to her jab, he turned the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go. “I thought you’d be happy about an expensive order.” He glanced around at their surroundings. “I understand you could use some help.”
Now that he had her on the hook, he could afford to drive his point home.
Tamara hesitated. “What makes you think so?”
“I have my sources.”
She scowled suddenly. “Have you been talking to my father?” She held up a hand, as if to stop him. “No, wait. Don’t bother answering that question.”
“For the record, it was through my own digging. But what I didn’t find out on my own, your friend Tom was happy to volunteer.”
She ignored the reference to Tom and braced one hand on her hip, her eyes narrowing. “You had me investigated?”
He let his lips quirk up on one side. “I like to know who I’m doing business with. Avoids nasty surprises.”
“So I should be flattered?” she demanded, looking outraged. “Is it a compliment that I merited the same full-blown investigation you might accord to a prospective business partner?”
“In or out of bed,” he added to get a rise out of her.
Her face flushed with color. “I see.” She gave him a sweeping look. “And I suppose none of your … girlfriends were infuriated by having to pass muster? Was the privilege of sleeping with you just too great a prize?”
He gave her a slow grin designed to incense. “No complaints yet.”
“Oh!”
For a moment, she looked as if she was speechless with outrage, fishing around for the right words for a proverbial clobbering.
Finally, she bit out, “I suppose that’s why you’re here today—to order a trinket for one of the lucky winners?”
He cocked his head to the side, and then raised his hand to slowly brush a tendril back from her face.
She stilled.
“You could characterize it that way,” he said in a deep voice that held just a hint of laughter.
She brushed his hand aside. “Fine,” she huffed, her voice nonetheless holding a hint of breathlessness. “It’s not my business why my clients come to me—or how.”
“Not too discriminating to do business with the devil?” he baited her.
She gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Let’s step over to my desk to discuss what you’re looking for.” She paused, and then added emphatically, almost warningly, “In a necklace and earrings coordinate set, of course.”
He gave a low laugh as he followed her.
This sale was costing her, but she was gritting her teeth and bearing it since she needed the money. Pink Teddy Designs meant a great deal to her, and he planned to exploit the attachment to his every advantage.
Shamelessly … ruthlessly … unrepentantly.
Because if there was one thing he knew, Sawyer acknowledged as he admired Tamara’s backside and shapely legs, it was that Kincaid News was worth the effort … and so was Tamara. And certainly, it would be no hardship to bed Tamara along the way to getting what he wanted.
At her desk—which was actually the large, glass-topped table he’d seen earlier—he sat in a bar-height chair at a right angle to her.