Upstairs Downstairs Baby (Sweet Tea And Scandal 1)

“That should work out okay.” Linc glanced at Claire. “Unless you can think of a conflict I’ve missed?”

Claire had been correct earlier when she’d mentioned how he liked to entertain around the holidays. He intended to host several events in December.

“That date should work,” Claire said.

“Wonderful,” Sawyer said. “Your house was so beautifully decorated for Christmas last year. I can’t wait for people to see it.”

When he’d purchased the Jonathan Elliot house several years earlier, the 1830s Greek Revival home from the antebellum period had been in rough shape, needing all new wiring and plumbing. Knox had spearheaded the project, coordinating the contractors, while Bettina had overseen the interior designer and given her opinion on all the finishes. The project had taken in excess of eighteen months and garnered him a Carolopolis Award from the Preservation Society of Charleston.

“You can thank Claire for the festive transformation,” Linc said. “It was her vision.”

“I’m sure she’ll do just as wonderful a job this year,” Sawyer said. “I have to run. See you tomorrow night.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Linc ended the call and shot Claire a glance. “No pressure,” he said, amused by her scowl. “Just do what you did last year.”

“Everyone will expect to be wowed again,” she countered. “I have to come up with something even more spectacular.”

“Whatever it is, I know it will be perfect.”

“Why do you have such faith in me?” she demanded.

Linc shrugged. “You’ve never given me any reason to doubt you.”

* * *

Something felt so right about donning her chef whites to prepare the dishes for Linc’s dinner party. Claire was a little surprised how much she missed the hectic pace of a restaurant kitchen. Although she’d spent only a few years working alongside some really talented chefs in the San Francisco area, the experience she’d gained was immeasurable. And in moments like this, Claire wondered if she’d been a fool to give it up.

“Wow, it smells incredible in here.” Linc’s appreciative tones broke through Claire’s musings.

Dressed in khaki pants and a pale blue button-down shirt with a white linen jacket and a bright blue pocket square that matched his eyes, Linc looked every inch the elegant Southern gentleman. During her time in Charleston, she’d noticed how the men of this town oozed charm and gracious manners that lulled a woman into thinking they weren’t the least bit dangerous, while in fact they were heartbreakers one and all.

Claire doubted Linc had any idea just how devastating he could be to a woman’s willpower through the simple act of sauntering into a room. His wavy blond hair was still damp and his elegant clothes couldn’t camouflage the raw masculinity of his athletic body. She gulped in reaction to the sex appeal radiating from him.

“You smell pretty good yourself,” she murmured, treating her nose to a deep pull of his scent as he came up beside her.

“Thanks, it’s Armani’s new cologne. They want me as their spokesmodel. My agent thinks I should do it.”

“You’d be great.” She had no trouble picturing his piercing blue eyes in magazine and television ads, inviting men and women alike to buy.

“I don’t know. I’ve never considered myself a fashion guy.”

“Well—” she cast her gaze over him and then zeroed in on his azure suede loafers “—you look pretty fashionable tonight.”

He glanced down at himself. “You know my stylist does all my shopping. If it was left up to me, I’d be wearing jeans and a T-shirt.”

And look amazingly hot in them. Honestly, the man could wear mud and look great. Sometimes just standing in the same room with all his gorgeous perfection made her ache.

“Is something wrong?”

Claire shook her head and turned her gaze away. “No.” A flush crept up her cheeks and she hoped he would attribute it to the heat of the stove.

“Because the way you were staring at me just now...”

“Did you check the dining room to make sure everything looked okay?” It was a lame attempt to deflect his curiosity.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Then he lowered his deep voice to a husky rumble that made her stomach drop and finished, “You look really professional in your chef whites.”