Easton leaned in close, and she could do nothing but look into his face. He didn’t speak, and neither did she. The notebook and why she’d been looking for it slid from her grasp. His lips neared, and hers parted without her consent or forethought.
“Mr. Tremaine, dinner is served.”
Kenzie blinked the spell away. She peered up over his shoulder at the pocket-sized but very shapely maid, complete with uniform and long legs encased in sheer stockings and high heels. “For real?”
He had the grace to look sheepish. “She cooks for me sometimes. I wanted to make sure you were taken care of. I suppose I could have ordered in.”
“She cooks,” Kenzie repeated stupidly. She stood. “Maybe I should leave you two to it. I think I better go.” The woman had no doubt done more than bang a few pots together for this playboy.
“You don’t have to.” He stepped into her path. “We have a lot of work to do.”
Kenzie dug in her bag and produced the notebook. She slapped it against his chest and squeezed by him. “Not so much. Choose a woman. Say the words. I’m going.”
“No!” He wrapped long fingers around her wrist. “Stay. Janet, thank you for the food. You can go.”
Offense radiated off the woman. Her lips compressed, and she curled long fingernails into her palms. From the look she cast Kenzie, the woman would like to swipe them across her face. What had he told her, that he had a client and he wanted her expert cooking? Maybe he insinuated he’d make it worth her while later.
Kenzie dipped her head in fury and shut her eyes. Her reaction was ridiculous. He was a client and nothing more. “Let me go, Easton.”
“No.”
She opened her eyes and glared at him. His serene expression pissed her off. Who did he think he was? She pulled, but his grip tightened. Worse, he pulled back, and her toes ached trying to keep her from landing on his chest. He’d like that, but she wouldn’t give in. Maybe this was another way he got what he wanted without charm. Well, she wasn’t buying.
She opened her mouth to tell him about himself and to inform the maid she could have the man, but the elevator door leading into the apartment closed with a resounding click.
“I said, let me go.”
His face hovered above hers, his bearing overpowering. She snapped her lips closed and turned her head. Warm breath on her ear made her shiver.
“Why are you so angry?”
The whispered words halted all her struggle. “I’m not. I just… Look, can we get back to your trying to find a wife? If you’re serious about getting your inheritance, that is.”
He didn’t move for an excruciating moment, and then he released her. When he turned his back and strode across the living room toward the dining room, she sagged against the side of the couch and held herself up by the arm of the chair.
“Let’s eat,” he called out.
She bent to pick up her dropped notebook and followed. He was right. She had no business being angry. They weren’t seeing each other, and it made no sense for her to judge the man on his sexual activity. That was his business.
She found him in the dining room, standing at the head of an elaborately displayed table. Settings were placed for two people, and just like at the restaurant, a bottle of wine waited for him to uncork it, along with two glasses. Easton indicated she should take the chair next to him, and she wanted to refuse, to keep as much distance between them as possible. Of course, that would show him he unsettled her, if he didn’t already know.
On stiff legs, she joined him and allowed him to push her chair in. Why should she feel any kind of way for this man? He made his intentions clear, and while she would never agree to a marriage without love, hey, everyone didn’t see it that way. Easton had said he would be faithful to his wife, but if he didn’t love her and she was just a tool to gain his inheritance, she didn’t see how he could hold to that promise. Again, it had nothing to do with her.
“Thanks,” she murmured and waited until he sat down. She served them both from the platter of brisket and filled a small bowl with salad for him. “Bread?”
“Please.”
Her hands moved with practiced precision, but her mind ran a mile a minute. He smelled incredible, and his dark locks were damp. The confidence he exuded made her want to shout at him to get affected by her like she was with him.
They ate and chatted about her work and his. “So your family sells diamonds, and I know you own a finance company. You own a few charities. Is that all?”
“Not enough?”
She smirked at him, and he smiled. She lowered her gaze to her glass and took a big sip.