High Stakes

“Never mind,” he continued. “I’ll find the spices.”

By the time Candice got back from the walk-in refrigerator, Derek had the grill flaming and he was stirring a pot on the big stovetop.

“What’s that?” She peered around his shoulder, sniffing at the mixture.

“Chocolate.”

“You’re making chocolate lobster?” Maybe he’d overstated his cooking expertise.

He grinned. “Chocolate mousse for dessert.”

“No way.” She did cake from a mix sometimes, brownies on an adventurous day.

He slanted her an accusatory look. “Your faith in me is not particularly inspiring.”

“But, you always act like such a pampered, spoiled…” Candice bit her lower lip. Here the man was making her a fabulous dinner, and she was insulting him.

“Don’t jump to conclusions about people,” he said softly.

“Considering how much time we’ve spent together over the past three months, I didn’t think it was jumping.” Culinary expertise aside, she had ample evidence to back up the fact that he was pampered and spoiled.

He adjusted the flame under the open grill, then flipped a switch to start an exhaust fan above it. “It takes two to tango.”

Candice stilled for a split second, overtaken by an image of tangoing with Derek, right here, right now, on the dining room floor. She shook it away. The fact that he could cook didn’t make him any less dangerous.

“You argued with me over the wood stain,” she pointed out.

“You argued right back.”

He was right, but she knew you couldn’t give an inch with Derek. And it wasn’t quite the same thing.

“Honey gloss?” she scoffed. “Natural satin blends with the entire theme, and it’s only a halftone off the color you’re fighting to the death for.”

Derek slowly stirred the pot of melting chocolate. “And honey gloss is only a halftone off the color you’re fighting to the death for.”

Candice compressed her lips. “It’s not the same thing.”

“It’s exactly the same thing.”

He just didn’t get it. Natural satin was part of a complex color design. His honey gloss was merely an uninformed, untrained whim.

Or else he was being obstinate. Quite frankly, she suspected the latter. “What about the wainscoting?” What was his excuse for that?

“Your choice is what? A quarter of an inch wider than mine.” He unwrapped the lobster tails and set them on the grill. Then he swiftly set out a small pot of butter to melt.

“I’m going for authenticity. Believe me, it makes a difference.” She watched his quick, clean movements. “You need some help with that?”

“I’m fine.” He crossed the room and retrieved a basting brush from a cutlery drawer. “It makes a whole quarter of an inch difference,” he said as he walked back toward her, brandishing the brush for emphasis. “Not to mention several thousand dollars.”

“Thanks for not mentioning that.”

“No problem.” He swirled the brush in the melting butter.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked.

“Why do you care so much?” he countered.

“I’m the decorator. It’s my job to worry about the details.”

“I’m the hotel owner. It’s my job to worry about the bottom line.”

“I won’t go over budget.”

“You won’t come in under budget, either.”

“That’s why they call it a budget. I’m going to build you the best restaurant I can within the financial limit you set.”

“Nobody’s going to notice the damn wainscoting.”

“Maybe not specifically—”

“See?” He basted the lobster tails with his left hand, stirring the chocolate with his right. “Why waste the money on something nobody will notice?”

She dragged her gaze away from his mesmerizing hands. “Not specifically the wainscoting, but they’ll notice the overall effect. Like the top of the wine rack. Will some customer walk in and say ‘Look, honey, the pattern of the marble on the wine rack flows into the overall scheme of the atrium’? Of course not. But, subconsciously, they’ll notice. There’s a fine line between four and five stars.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Stick with me, baby, and I’ll push you over the top.”

Derek stopped stirring and basting, and he stared at her for a moment. The sensual heat in his deep blue eyes was unmistakable. “Left yourself wide-open once again,” he whispered low and husky.

She drew back, confused.

A slow smile crossed his face. “Much as I’d like to go ‘over the top’ with you, baby, I don’t think it’s a good idea, given our current adversarial professional relationship.”

Her face heated. “I only meant…”

He chuckled. “I know. But, damn, you give a guy openings that are just too good to pass up.”

He turned his attention back to cooking. “Tell you what, in the spirit of cooperation, I’ll give on the stain if you give on the wainscoting.”

Candice blinked. She didn’t plan to give on anything. “But, the wainscoting is—”

“A difference of thousands of dollars.” He raised one eyebrow. “For a quarter of an inch. Can we get a negotiation going here or not?”

Candice was silent for a moment. It wasn’t her first choice, but she supposed they could make the wainscoting work. “If you get the wainscoting, I get to choose all of the stain and paint colors,” she said.

Derek stared at her. “You want me to give you all the stain and paint colors for a mere quarter of an inch?”

“It’s thousands of dollars,” she countered.