Dev snapped his fingers. “Piece of cake. You just say the word.”
“I don’t care what it costs. I just keep remembering how scared Christina was when I met her and how shaky she is still. She’s so sweet, Dev, and she needs someone to love her—really love her for who she is inside.”
He thought Lacey’s wish for Christina might mirror a wish of her own. There was a very big heart inside that slender frame. Dev would have given a lot to have someone fight for him like that.
“I work cheap for my friends. And tonight I’m running a special. You only need to agree to have dinner with me.”
Lacey’s mouth quirked. “I already agreed to that.”
“Lucky you. You get off really cheap.”
Her silvery eyes glowed. “We’ll talk money later. I’m not letting you work for free.”
“You don’t have any choice. You ready?”
“For what?”
“Dinner.”
Lacey looked around her at the darkened street. “Where are we going?”
He gestured to the stone building in front of them. “Right here.”
Lacey couldn’t help gaping. “Here? Dev, it’s a museum. It’s closed.”
He smiled that cocky smile she’d seen so many times, years ago. “Not to me. In my business, who you know is everything.” He got out of the car and came around to help her alight. “This way, milady. The evening begins.”
She felt a bubble of laughter rise in her throat. “Why is it, Devlin Marlowe, that you’ve always dared more than anyone else I’ve ever met?”
He tucked her hand under his elbow and looked down at her, his eyes hot and mysterious, his voice husky. “When the prize is worth it, a man will dare a lot.”
Am I worth it, Dev? Her heart fluttered, but she didn’t ask as Dev drew her forward.
The door opened as if by magic. “Good evening, Mr. Marlowe. Everything’s in place.” The security guard’s tone was respectful. He tipped his hat to Lacey. “Evening, miss.”
Lacey could barely get out a greeting, her mind whirling with wonder. “What have you done, Dev?”
He merely grinned. “You’ll see.”
He led her past paintings and sculptures, and she realized that he was leading her toward the courtyard. Anticipation bubbled like champagne in her blood.
The glow didn’t register at first, but when it did, Lacey gasped in shock and went stock-still.
And then sighed.
The courtyard was alive with candlelight. There must have been hundreds of them placed strategically to create one island of light in the greenest corner of this space. Some were fat candles set in torches, some tapers in hurricane glass. Dozens more floated in the still fountain nearby.
Several tall urns were filled with long-stemmed roses allowed to open enough to share their fragrance, perfuming the night around them.
“Dev…” She pressed her hand to her breast, but she couldn’t find the words.
His hand slid around her waist. “Do you like it?”
She heard a surprising edge of nerves in his voice and turned to face him. “I’ve never seen anything this beautiful in my life.”
“I have.” He gazed at her, his eyes glowing as much from within as from the candlelight around them. He lifted his free hand to her chin and leaned toward her. “I’m looking at her now.”
And then he brushed one soft kiss over her lips, tracing the moisture left behind with the pad of his thumb.
Lacey’s heart was racing. “Oh, Dev…” She leaned toward him, wanting more.
But he pulled away, his look regretful. He cleared his throat. “We might have an audience, I’m afraid. My connections don’t extend far enough for them to abandon the place to us.” He pressed one finger against her lips. “But hold that thought. I’m sure as hell going to.”
The slight edge of disgruntlement in his tone made her want to giggle. She needed something, anything, to cool her own rapidly-heating blood.
Dev led her forward, seating her on thick, fluffy jewel-tone cushions lying on top of a Persian rug sprinkled with ruby-red rose petals. Arrayed before them was a bucket of champagne and a spread she couldn’t possibly eat, as the butterflies in her stomach were dodging the needle-sharp teeth of desire.
But somehow she did it, helped by Dev taking a position across from her, carefully out of reach. His physical presence was so powerful, she needed all the distance she could get.
It only helped a little. The soft weave of his slacks did not disguise his long, muscular legs, nor could his shirt adequately hide the breadth of his shoulders or the strength of his arms. Watching his long well-formed fingers wrapped around his flute of champagne made something deep and low in her burn.