walked into the restaurant hand in hand. The lushly decorated room was ivory and gold and a dazzling wealth of tiny point lights that turned the ceiling into a breathtaking sunset strewn with early stars. The amount of glitz and glamor at every table probably represented half the country’s GNP. Stephanie already felt horribly out of place. She spotted Mr. Wheeler’s table immediately, and tugged Derek that way with a smile. At least Wheeler was a familiar face.
“Good evening, Mr. Wheeler.”
Mr. Wheeler stood and offered his hand. “Good evening, Ms. Miller.” They shook hands. He studied Derek. “Mister…Rory, was it?”
“Yes, sir.” Derek shook Mr. Wheeler’s hand, then slid his arm back around Stephanie’s waist. His fingers burned through the thin fabric of her dress. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Indeed.” Mr. Wheeler smiled and settled back into his chair. “Please. Sit.”
Rodgers emerged from the back of the restaurant. His cheeks were red and his sneer firmly in place. “Ah, I see the young couple is here at last. We were starting to suspect you forgot all about us.”
Stephanie bit her tongue. The man was full of piss and vinegar and lies. He was the epitome of the sleazy businessman. Derek squeezed her hip in warning, seeming to sense how close she was to telling Rodgers exactly what she thought of him. Political games and fake smiles were not what she’d pictured when she’d chosen her career.
Clenching her teeth, she summoned up her perfect Corporate Barbie smile. “We are ten minutes early, sir.”
“If we’re late, it’s my fault.” Derek stepped forward and pulled Stephanie’s chair out for her. “I couldn’t decide between the red cummerbund or the black.”
Mr. Wheeler laughed. “And they say women take the longest to get ready.”
“Not in our house.” Derek gently pushed her chair in. “I’m afraid I’m the diva between us.”
Stephanie stared—at his easy, charming smile, at how glibly he moved, spoke, chuckled—and wondered where this Stepford fiancé had come from. He caught her eye, the warning clear: play your part.
“Uh.” She fiddled with her napkin. “He’s being kind. I took hours getting ready.”
“Every minute was well spent,” Derek said, his eyes locked on her.
From the heat in his gaze, she could almost believe he meant it.
The waiter arrived, and Mr. Rodgers took the liberty of ordering for all of them. The most expensive thing on the menu—lobster and filet mignon. She would have preferred a burger, but she kept silent. Played along like a good little girl, even if she had no idea how to act at meetings like this.
After their waiter filled their glasses with wine, Stephanie lifted her drink and smiled. “To a lucrative future together?”
They all toasted, and Stephanie met Derek’s eyes over their glasses. Though he wasn’t smiling, his eyes were warm. “To the future,” he echoed, his voice full of promise.
Damn, he was good . Too good.
She tore her attention from Derek and smiled at Mr. Wheeler. After taking a sip of Moscato, she asked, “Have you had a chance to look over my proposal?”
“Yes, I have.” He sipped from a tumbler of whiskey, then reached into his briefcase. He pulled out a manila folder and stretched to pass it over the table. “And I’ve come prepared with more questions of my own.”
Stephanie took the folder and eagerly opened it. A hand covered hers, holding the file shut. Not Derek. Derek’s touch tingled with a disturbing familiarity, one that was absent now. The fingers covering hers were thick and bristled with coarse white hair. Mr. Rodgers. She should have known from the sick feeling in her stomach.
He looked down at the file. “Let’s save business for later.”
“Isn’t that why we’re here, though?” Stephanie looked at Mr. Wheeler. “Sir?”
Wheeler smiled. “I don’t mind holding off for now. I’d like the opportunity to get to know the people I intend to
“Good evening, Mr. Wheeler.”
Mr. Wheeler stood and offered his hand. “Good evening, Ms. Miller.” They shook hands. He studied Derek. “Mister…Rory, was it?”
“Yes, sir.” Derek shook Mr. Wheeler’s hand, then slid his arm back around Stephanie’s waist. His fingers burned through the thin fabric of her dress. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Indeed.” Mr. Wheeler smiled and settled back into his chair. “Please. Sit.”
Rodgers emerged from the back of the restaurant. His cheeks were red and his sneer firmly in place. “Ah, I see the young couple is here at last. We were starting to suspect you forgot all about us.”
Stephanie bit her tongue. The man was full of piss and vinegar and lies. He was the epitome of the sleazy businessman. Derek squeezed her hip in warning, seeming to sense how close she was to telling Rodgers exactly what she thought of him. Political games and fake smiles were not what she’d pictured when she’d chosen her career.
Clenching her teeth, she summoned up her perfect Corporate Barbie smile. “We are ten minutes early, sir.”
“If we’re late, it’s my fault.” Derek stepped forward and pulled Stephanie’s chair out for her. “I couldn’t decide between the red cummerbund or the black.”
Mr. Wheeler laughed. “And they say women take the longest to get ready.”
“Not in our house.” Derek gently pushed her chair in. “I’m afraid I’m the diva between us.”
Stephanie stared—at his easy, charming smile, at how glibly he moved, spoke, chuckled—and wondered where this Stepford fiancé had come from. He caught her eye, the warning clear: play your part.
“Uh.” She fiddled with her napkin. “He’s being kind. I took hours getting ready.”
“Every minute was well spent,” Derek said, his eyes locked on her.
From the heat in his gaze, she could almost believe he meant it.
The waiter arrived, and Mr. Rodgers took the liberty of ordering for all of them. The most expensive thing on the menu—lobster and filet mignon. She would have preferred a burger, but she kept silent. Played along like a good little girl, even if she had no idea how to act at meetings like this.
After their waiter filled their glasses with wine, Stephanie lifted her drink and smiled. “To a lucrative future together?”
They all toasted, and Stephanie met Derek’s eyes over their glasses. Though he wasn’t smiling, his eyes were warm. “To the future,” he echoed, his voice full of promise.
Damn, he was good . Too good.
She tore her attention from Derek and smiled at Mr. Wheeler. After taking a sip of Moscato, she asked, “Have you had a chance to look over my proposal?”
“Yes, I have.” He sipped from a tumbler of whiskey, then reached into his briefcase. He pulled out a manila folder and stretched to pass it over the table. “And I’ve come prepared with more questions of my own.”
Stephanie took the folder and eagerly opened it. A hand covered hers, holding the file shut. Not Derek. Derek’s touch tingled with a disturbing familiarity, one that was absent now. The fingers covering hers were thick and bristled with coarse white hair. Mr. Rodgers. She should have known from the sick feeling in her stomach.
He looked down at the file. “Let’s save business for later.”
“Isn’t that why we’re here, though?” Stephanie looked at Mr. Wheeler. “Sir?”
Wheeler smiled. “I don’t mind holding off for now. I’d like the opportunity to get to know the people I intend to
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