High Stakes. Barbara Dunlop

shimmied into a crouch position, pointing to the base of the wine rack to prove her point. “You know the marble top’s precut?”

      He crouched beside her. “So?”

      “So, exhibit A, you had them build the base two feet off. That’s false economy, because we’re going to have to rip it out and start over again.”

      “That’s faulty logic. Because I just moved the wine rack. I didn’t change the dimensions.”

      “If you’d bothered to read the plans, you’d know we have to recess it into the wall.”

      “I did bother to read the plans. They told me you wanted to rebuild an entire wall for the sake of two feet.”

      She raised her eyebrows. There was a master plan at work here. Details mattered. Something Derek obviously didn’t grasp. “Your point is?”

      He straightened and held out his hand. “You’re scary, you know that?”

      She ignored his unspoken offer. But halfway up, her toe caught on the hem of her dress and she stumbled. He caught her arm to steady her.

      The feel of his calluses against her skin sent an instant shock wave through her body. She gritted her teeth against the sensation. “You’re the scary one.” What with his drive-by style of executive interference, and…

      She shook off his hand.

      “Because I catch you when you fall?” His deep voice rumbled close to her ear.

      She took a quick step away from him, remembering the last time he’d touched her, spoken to her in that vibrating, intimate tone that made her blood dance. It was three months ago, on that silly carnival ride, the Tunnel of Love. It was the day she found out he was a fraud. The day they’d found out Tyler was spying on Jenna.

      She shook off the memory, rubbing his touch away from her bare arm. “Do you want a five-star restaurant or a diner?”

      “Oh, definitely a diner,” he drawled, cocking his head sideways.

      “Well, you’re well on your way.”

      “You are so melodramatic.”

      “You are so naive.”

      His eyes widened at that one.

      She began counting off on her fingertips. “We have an artist on retainer. We’ve consulted on the marble pattern. We’ve already bought paintings for the recessed wall. The lines on the marble will flow perfectly toward the pillars, emphasize the mini atrium and the windows—”

      “You may have a heady, artistic vision, but I have an obligation to the other shareholders.”

      “To ruin the renovation?”

      “To make sure Reeves-DuCarter worldwide share prices don’t plummet when the financial markets hear how much you’re spending on a wine rack.”

      “It’s the focal point of the entire room—”

      “Hey, Derek.”

      Candice clamped her mouth shut and drew back at the sound of Tyler Reeves’s voice.

      “There you are,” said Derek. “I thought you’d died in the hallway.”

      “Can I borrow your cell phone?” asked Tyler.

      Candice glanced from man to man. Both were tall and broad shouldered, with short dark hair and those startling blue eyes. Tyler was slightly slimmer, and he always looked a whole lot happier.

      “Did the reception move up here?” she asked.

      It was one thing for her to duck out on Erin and Striker. She was just another wedding guest. But Derek and Tyler were in their brother’s wedding party.

      “I just need to check on something,” said Tyler, holding out his hand for the phone.

      Derek looked confused, but he reached into the pocket of his tux jacket. “Yeah…Sure…”

      “Thanks,” Tyler nodded, taking Derek’s phone and heading back out the door.

      “No problem,” said Derek.

      Candice wondered why Tyler hadn’t used a house phone downstairs. There had to be a hundred of them.

      While she puzzled over his presence, he paused in the doorway. Then turned back to face them, tapping the phone against the bottom of his chin. His expression shifted from affable to stern.

      “You two are upsetting my wife,” he said.

      “Upsetting Jenna?” asked Candice, instantly worried. Jenna had been fine when she’d left her ten minutes ago. It couldn’t be that important to her that Candice get a date.

      Tyler reached for the two doors. “And I’ve decided you need some time alone together to work things out.” He quickly pulled the doors shut and clicked the dead bolt into place.

      “What the hell?” Derek was at the doors in three long strides. “Tyler? My phone!”

      “Jenna suggested a time-out,” came Tyler’s muffled voice from the other side of the solid oak.

      “Time-out from what?” called Derek.

      “Like in kindergarten. You two kids see about settling your differences before the crew shows up on Monday.”

      2

      SETTLE THEIR DIFFERENCES? Candice darted a glance at Derek’s rock-hard jaw and narrowed eyes. “What does he mean Monday?”

      Derek’s lips thinned, but he didn’t answer.

      She quickly turned her attention to the dead bolt. It was keyed from both sides, and she didn’t have a key.

      Tyler had locked them in the restaurant.

      “Tyler?” she asked hopefully, moving up against the oak, testing the knob. “Uh, Tyler?”

      No reply.

      Derek let out an exasperated curse. “I don’t think he’s out there.”

      “He’ll be back,” she said, nodding confidently, stepping back and gazing up at the oversized doors. “This has to be a joke.”

      “I didn’t hear Tyler laughing.”

      “Jenna won’t let him leave us here.”

      “What makes you think he’ll tell Jenna?”

      “Well…Because…” Candice hated to admit it, but that was a good question.

      Brushing past her, Derek tested the knob, then he rattled the doors. “I sincerely doubt he’ll tell her.”

      “She’s his wife. Isn’t there something in the wedding vows about honesty?”

      Derek stepped back beside her to survey the doors. He let out a hard sigh, shaking his head in pity, voice dropping to that intimate timbre. “Candy, Candy, Candy—”

      “I asked you not to call me that.”

      “Tyler thinks he’s saving Jenna.”

      “Well, that would be your fault.”

      Derek held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “How is it my fault?”

      “Jenna’s frustrated, because you keep picking fights, undermining my instructions—”

      “I do have veto power.”

      “Over the stain color? The wainscoting? The positioning of the wine rack?” If Derek would just let her do her job, they wouldn’t be in this fix. She was really quite easy to get along with.

      “Over any little thing I want,” he said.

      “You have taken