Her response seemed to satisfy him. “I’m glad. The ring was a gift to my great-grandmother, but I had it reset. The original center stone was a sapphire.”
Tamara looked down at her hand again. The ring was a tangible sign of her bargain with Sawyer.
“You’ll get used to it,” he said.
Startled, she glanced up.
He appeared amused for a moment. “I meant the ring. You’ll get used to the weight of the ring.”
Tamara rued the fact that Sawyer looked as if he’d guessed what was on her mind.
She angled her hand back and forth. “It’s exquisite.”
“As is its wearer.”
She shifted in her seat. She was uncertain how to handle Sawyer. Was he just practicing his romantic technique for the benefit of onlookers?
She wanted to make some acerbic reply about leaving his false devotion for an occasion when they had a real audience, but somehow the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she found herself succumbing to the effect of his nearness and seductive words more than she cared to admit.
“What was the occasion for the gift originally?” she asked, striving to keep the conversation on an even keel.
Sawyer looked suddenly mischievous. “Do you really want to know?”
She raised her brows inquiringly.
“The birth of my great-grandmother’s sixth and last child.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, well …”
“Quite.” His eyes laughed at her. “One doesn’t get to be the twelfth in a direct line of successive earls without ample fertility along the way.”
“Perhaps you should be seeking a woman who will better accommodate you in the … fecundity department.”
His eyes crinkled. “Perhaps you suit my needs just fine.”
She was unsettled by his cryptic reply, but before she could respond, he picked up her ring hand and raised it to his mouth, kissing the pad of each finger individually.
Her eyes widened as a shiver chased through her.
“Someone I know just walked into the restaurant,” he murmured, a twinkle in his eyes.
She shot him a skeptical look. “Of course.”
“You doubt me?”
She extracted her hand from his loose grip. “Should I?”
Sawyer chuckled, and just then a waiter materialized with a bread basket, followed by their regular server with their wine.
When they were both sipping Pinot Grigio, Tamara attempted to put their conversation on a more businesslike footing. “Tell me about the details that you’ve obviously called me here to discuss.”
He arched a brow. “Your patience has run out? Very well, let’s start with Pink Teddy Designs. How much is your lease costing you?”
She relaxed a little, lowering her shoulders. So Sawyer had come here to make good on his promises.
“Too much,” she repeated.
“It’s a fashionable address—an astute business move.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll cosign your lease renewal.”
Her eyes widened. “How did—?”
He looked at her quizzically. “How did I know the lease was your most pressing concern, you mean? A few discreet inquiries to the landlord netted information on current rents—and the fact that they were going up.”
“Lovely,” she said acerbically. “I didn’t realize my lease was information available to the press!”
Sawyer’s lips twisted wryly. “It’s not, but I happen to know the head of Rockridge Management.”
She made a disgruntled reply.
“You’ll also need a cash infusion.”
Tamara compressed her lips. Knowing it was best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, however, she forced herself to hold her tongue.
Sawyer considered her. “How does two million dollars for initial financing sound?”
Tamara swallowed. She’d only fantasized about having that kind of cash on hand.
“No strings attached?” she queried.
Sawyer inclined his head in acknowledgment.
Of course, she reminded herself, they both knew that Sawyer wouldn’t expect repayment of the money. She had bargained away something else. She’d agreed to a sham marriage.
She cleared her throat. “Thank you … I think. I can promise I’ll put the money to good use.” And then because she didn’t want him to have the impression that she was completely without resources, she added, “I just met with a client this morning, actually.”
When Sawyer looked at her inquiringly, she elaborated, “It was a hedge-fund wife who recently opened her own boutique in the Hamptons. She bought a bracelet for herself and selected a few other pieces to carry in her store.”
Just then their waiter reappeared, and asked if they were ready to order.
Tamara belatedly realized she hadn’t even looked at the menu, but because she’d been to Balthazar before, she ordered the smoked salmon from memory. Sawyer, after a few idle inquiries of their waiter, ordered the grilled branzini.
Afterward, Tamara braced herself and looked at Sawyer squarely. “I suppose we should discuss the wedding itself.”
He smiled faintly. “I’ll leave the details to you. I understand many women have preconceived ideas of what their wedding should look like.”