More Than Perfect. Day Leclaire

He gave a careless shrug, drawing attention to the impressive width of his shoulders and chest. “It’s a personal matter, one that has no bearing on business.”

      A cynical light flickered to life in Lucius’s eyes and Angie could guess what he was thinking. “It’s not that,” she told him before she stopped to think.

      Instantly, two sets of masculine eyes swiveled to dissect her. “It’s not … what?” they both demanded, almost in unison, and she winced.

      She sat for a split second and stewed. When would she learn to keep her big mouth shut? Granted, Lucius had included her tonight because she tended to be good at assessing people and situations. She had a knack for reading between the lines and, for the most part, coming up with accurate conclusions. Still, he probably would have preferred to have that assessment made in private. Oh, well. Too late now.

      Taking a moment longer to consider how to answer their question, she went with the truth. The two businessmen were far too sharp to believe anything less. She glanced at Lucius and fought to maintain her equilibrium beneath his narrow-eyed glare. “When Gabe says it’s personal, you assumed it meant he’d had an affair with Romano’s wife. It’s something else.” She took a sip of wine in the hopes of settling her nerves. It didn’t work. “Something clearly private.”

      “How do you know?” Again in unison.

      She sighed. Could the two be any more like peas in a pod? She turned to Pea #1, aka … her boss. “Because he’s angry, but not in a you-done-me-wrong sort of way. Plus, his anger isn’t directed at both of them the way it would be if he’d had his woman stolen from him.” And wouldn’t that comment cut close to the bone with Lucius, considering he’d lost his woman to his best friend. She hastened to turn to Pea #2, aka … her boss’s occasional competitor. “Considering the temperature just bottomed out to subarctic—shiver, shiver—it’s clearly a private matter that you wouldn’t talk about regardless of the incentive.” She smiled brightly. “More scotch, or should we get down to serious business over dessert?”

      “Dessert and serious business,” Gabe decided.

      “With a little more scotch,” Lucius added blandly.

      Unfortunately, the going continued to be as turbulent as the chop of the Sound outside the restaurant window, mainly because throughout their discussion, Gabe initiated a mild flirtation with her. His hand brushed hers when he made a point. His fingers lingering on her shoulder whenever he asked a question. He even caught a springy curl and gave it a tug during some teasing remark.

      Normally, she’d have flirted right back, fully aware Gabe wasn’t being the least serious. But one look at Lucius’s expression warned her to play it very, very cool. It didn’t make the least sense to her. Hadn’t he requested she flirt with Moretti? Wasn’t the goal to keep him distracted and off his game? Based on the dark looks she was receiving, the goal had changed without warning. Even worse, the only person distracted was Lucius.

      By the time the last bite of a vanilla bean crème brûlée had been consumed, Angie hung from the end of her rope by a tattered thread. Gabe had somehow wrung more concessions out of her boss than she thought possible, a fact that left him smoldering dangerously. That fire threatened to burst to life when Gabe leaned in to kiss her farewell in what would have been an innocuous gesture if he hadn’t taken one look at Lucius and then shifted the aim of his kiss, and slowed it, so it caressed the side of her mouth.

      Angie decided it might be in her best interest to make a hasty retreat to the ladies’ room while Andre ordered her a cab. With luck the two men would have already departed by the time she returned. She was half-right. Gabe was nowhere to be seen, but Lucius remained. He draped her wrap around her the instant she joined him.

      She glanced toward the maître d’. “Has Andre ordered my cab?”

      “Our cab,” he corrected. “And yes, he has.”

      Well, damn. That’s what she got for counting the minutes until she could let down her guard and relax. Cursing her luck, she piled a full thirty back onto her tally. “Isn’t it out of the way for you?”

      “I don’t mind. Besides, I’m curious to see the house you bought.”

      Great. Just great. “No problem,” she murmured. Big problem. Huge problem. And one she didn’t have a hope in hell of avoiding.

      “I appreciate your coming tonight,” he surprised her by adding. “Ah, here’s the cab now.”

      She followed him from the restaurant into the night air, snuggling deeper into her wrap. The scent of salt and fish flavored the breeze along the waterfront. From the direction of Puget Sound whitecaps foamed beneath a sliver of moon and ferries plied the restless chop, their lights glittering against the blackened sea. The cityscape loomed overhead, glowing with life and vitality. Lucius held the door of the cab and she slid in, praying her skirt didn’t ride any higher. To her relief it stayed put, preserving her modesty. She heard Lucius give the driver the directions before joining her. Leave it to him to have every obscure detail at his fingertips, though it gave Angie an unsettled feeling, knowing that Lucius knew where she lived and could relay the address off the top of his head.

      Maybe it had something to do with the thick blanket of darkness combined with the lateness of the hour, but his presence filled the back of the vehicle. Every so often a streetlight would pierce the shadows and play across hard, masculine angles. But that only served to emphasize the darkness of his eyes and make him appear tougher, more unapproachable. Like Bogey in one of his film noirs.

      She searched for something to say, desperate to break the silence. Not that it was totally silent. Outside the city lived and breathed, filled with noise and lights and movement. But for some reason, it seemed distant and remote from within the confines of the cab, where his quiet breathing thundered in her ears and a visceral awareness grew with each passing moment. She peered into the night, assessing their distance from home. Still too far.

      Way too far.

      “I’m sorry the evening didn’t work out quite as planned,” she offered, desperate to break the silence.

      “That wasn’t your fault.” His voice issued from the darkness. Quiet, yet carrying an edge that teased along her nerves, making her painfully aware of her scanty dress—and even scantier self-control. “It was mine.”

      “I didn’t expect him to flirt with me,” she confessed. “I thought that was my job.”

      “Yes, that took me by surprise, too.” His head turned. All but his eyes remained in shadow, darkness buried within darkness. But those eyes … Heaven help her, they pierced through the night and arrowed straight into her soul. Could he see her thoughts, sense what she felt? The rational part of her knew it wasn’t possible. The more visceral, feminine parts responded to the sheer maleness of him … and wanted. “If you’ll recall, I did mention that you’re a very attractive woman.”

      “With the right clothes and hairstyle, that is.”

      She could feel the burn of his gaze sweep over her. Strip her. “And I was right. That’s one hell of a dress, Colter. What there is of it.”

      Her grip tightened on her wrap and she refused to look at him, afraid to look in case she lost the tenuous hold she maintained on her self-control. What would he do if she fisted her hands in that black silk jacket and yanked him to her? Kissed him in a way no employee had any business kissing her boss? Would he take her? Or reject her?

      “You disapprove of my choice?” she asked.

      The power of his gaze grew weightier, sharper. So tightly focused she could feel it laser into her very bones. “Hell, no. Though now that I’ve seen you in this, I’m not sure I can stand having you wear any more of those chair upholstery suits you favor.”

      “That isn’t your decision.” Her head swiveled in his direction and she fought to keep her voice cold and distant. “Nor do you have any say in the matter.”

      “And if I