Rule's Obsession (The House of Rule 1)

"I might," he said, as the vision of sharing her food hit him as being particularly sensual.

She looked back to the waiter. "I'll have the grilled chicken and vegetable medley."

After the man turned to go, Damian tamped down his arousal and attempted to get down to business. "I need your help Saturday evening. Are you free?"

Her eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. "What kind of help?"

"I need a date for a dinner party."

The girl was smart; Damian could see her adding up the few things he'd already let slip and coming up with, if not his entire reason, then at least part of it.

She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. It seemed as if she was attempting a casual look, but Damian wasn't buying it. Her voice was flat as she stated, "A woman like me is inappropriate for a businessman such as yourself," she restated his opinion in a controlled voice and then continued, "and yet someone needs to believe you're seriously interested in me."

Damian inclined his head minutely. "Correct so far."

"Who are you trying to fool?"

The girl was good; she caught on quickly. "We're trying to fool my mother."

She shook her head slightly and let out a half-smile. "There is no 'we.' I haven't agreed to anything."

"I'll pay you for your time," he offered abruptly.

"You'd have to pay me for my time. Saturday is my most lucrative day at the salon and I'd don't want to cut it short."

"A thousand dollars now and a thousand when the evening is over."

"Holy shit. Two grand just for a dinner party?" Distrust highlighted her features. "Nothing else?"

"Just a dinner party. Nothing else, although it has to look as if we can't wait to be alone. That is, if you think you're up to the challenge."

The first thing he saw was calculation as she very obviously thought about earning two grand in a single evening for little to no work. The second thing he saw was a question as she slid her gaze over him as if mulling over being alone with him. Damian felt the immediate hit to his groin as he imagined the same. It wasn't hard to do; being alone with her was something he thought about often. Her lips slowly opened and her face was transformed into a highly provocative look that made his pants too tight. Her voice came out, almost sultry and nothing like he'd heard from her before, "I'm pretty sure I could fake a bunch of people into thinking I'm into you."

He watched, almost entranced, as she lifted a hand and picked up a lock of hair and began twirling it around her fingers, and held the strand close to her mouth, making it impossible for him not to focus on her full lips. It was an obvious bid for sexual attention; it was also more than obvious that she was staging a performance, and damn if she wasn't good. She shrugged a delicate shoulder and continued, "I suppose for two grand I could manage to pretend you're not a complete douche bag for a few hours."

Damian raised an eyebrow. Her words themselves had been insulting, but the way she'd purred them had made it seem as if she couldn't wait to strip the clothes from his body . . . with her teeth. Yeah, if she could keep that up, she'd do just fine. His mother would buy it, hook, line and sinker. She'd finally get the message that he didn't have a single romantic feeling for Courtney and leave him alone again.

"So you'll do it?" he asked.

"Sure, why not?"

Damian was pleased he was getting what he wanted, although he acknowledged that he didn't care for how mercenary the girl seemed. Her tone had changed quickly when two grand was mentioned. It was a turn-off, but that was actually a good thing, because he needed something to dull the sharp edge of attraction he felt when he was near her.

He pulled out his business card and took a moment to jot down his cell phone number before handing it to her. "My information. I'll have a car pick you up at six sharp on Saturday night. Call and leave your information with my secretary. If you need to speak to me personally, call my cell."

"What do you want me to wear?"

"Something like that, of course," he said, indicating the outfit she had on.

She narrowed her eyes and a look of confusion colored them. "Umm, the party will be fairly formal, right? Or is it just us and your mother?"

"No, her dinner parties are usually twelve to sixteen guests."

She took a deep breath. "Right. I need to wear a cocktail dress at least, I think."

"Okay. But make it black and don't tone down the gothic element."

"All right, but I have to warn you that a dressed-up look will appear more polished."