The Offer She Couldn't Refuse Read online

And he’d thought he’d won her over. He should have known better. When it came to being stubborn, this woman was in a class by herself.

  “So you’re turning my offer down?”

  There was no denying that she needed the money. Badly. But there had to be another way to get it. She couldn’t accept money from him. They’d never remain on equal footing if she did.

  Demi squared her shoulders. “Yes.”

  She had a lovely neck, and right now he could just as easily envision his fingers wrapped around it as his lips pressed against it. Jared shook his head. “It’s business sense like that that got you into this hole in the first place.”

  Criticism was not something she accepted kindly and now even less than usual. Just what was he up to?

  “Why are you throwing business my way?” she demanded. A Hatfield didn’t suddenly offer to help a McCoy. “For that matter, why are you giving me ‘tips’ on how I should run my business? Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  The answer was simple, though ultimately it would cost him a great deal. “Yours.”

  What was it about the man’s eyes that made her forget everything but the intense desire she’d tasted when he kissed her? Desire within him, within her.

  “I wish I could believe that.” She’d never meant anything more in her life.

  He covered the clenched hands on the table, forming a silent covenant.

  “Believe it.” He paused, thinking. “Would you feel better if we compromised?”

  And just what did that mean? “How?” she asked guardedly.

  He tried not to let her tone bother him. Logically he could see why she’d still be wary. Emotionally he had trouble dealing with her distrust.

  “I’ll have the party at my house as originally planned.” That way, he wouldn’t be paying for the use of the banquet room. “But you’ll cater it.” He didn’t put it in the form of a question. This time he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. “Oh, and one more thing.”

  Here it came, the kicker. The payoff. She braced herself to be disappointed in him. “Yes?”

  “You’re invited.”

  There was no extraneous noise in the restaurant, just the gentle murmur of voices melding with the soft, piped-in music in the background. She couldn’t blame it on that, yet she was still sure she hadn’t heard him correctly.

  “Excuse me?”

  She looked adorable when she was confused, he thought. She’d probably rip his heart out if he said that out loud. She wasn’t the type who appreciated being thought of as vulnerable.

  But she was and it was that core of vulnerability in the midst of her strength that hooked him and reeled him in. Vulnerability needed to be protected. And he needed to be needed.

  “I want you to attend the party.” He said it slowly so that it could sink in. “There are some people coming whom I want you to meet.”

  One man in particular, Jared thought. A man who could do a lot for Demi if he liked her desserts half as much as Jared did. The idea had occurred to him just now, as he’d been sampling the kataife.

  Demi bit her lower lip. Maybe she was being too stubborn about this. After all, it wasn’t as if he were giving her a loan; this was strictly business. She brought the food and he paid for it. Simple.

  As if anything involving this man could really be simple, she thought. Just being around him was complicated. He represented the enemy, yet she was so strongly attracted to him, she couldn’t think straight.

  “All right, I’ll come to your party.” A smile lifted the corners of her mouth slowly just before it slipped into her eyes. “You’re just trying to get a good deal on this.”

  He breathed a silent sigh of relief. Getting her to agree had actually been easier than he’d anticipated. “I have a feeling I already am.”

  She tried not to let him unsettle her, but it wasn’t easy. “What about Winfield—won’t he object?” The man wouldn’t take kindly to having Jared go out of his way for her. Especially since she had absolutely no intentions of capitulating.

  He didn’t want to spoil the moment by talking about Winfield. “You leave him to me.”

  “He won’t be there, will he?” If he was, all bets were off. There was no way she was going to be put into a position where she was serving him.

  Jared laughed. He thought she gave him more credit than that. “Do you really think I’m reckless enough to invite you to a party that he’s attending?”

  “No, I guess not.” Demi put out her hand. “Okay, you have a deal.” Warmth seeped through her as he shook it. Flushed, she withdrew her hand. “Now, just what kind of a menu did you have in mind?”

  Though he liked everything he’d sampled at the restaurant, his interest was primarily centered on the baklava and the kataife. “The only thing I’m definitely sure of is that I want you to bring baklava. Lots of baklava. And kataife.”

  Cooking might be the way to a man’s heart, but compliments on her cooking were definitely the way to hers. “That hooked on it, are you?”

  “You have no idea.” If he told her what he had in mind, she’d balk. If he knew her, and he was beginning to, she’d probably accuse him of trying to manipulate her life. The easiest way to do this was just to buy some and bring it to the man, but he wanted his friend to meet Demi. It seemed only fair.

  “All right, baklava and kataife it is.” She needed to start ordering extra ingredients. “How many people are invited?”

  Jared did a quick tally. “Counting you and me, twelve.”

  A nice, small number. Piece of cake, she thought. Or, in this case, baklava. “All right, why don’t I give you a menu and we’ll see what we come up with?”

  He already knew what he had come up with, he thought as he watched her walk to the hostess desk to get a menu for him. Trouble with a capital T. But he couldn’t just stand by and watch her being squeezed out of business, which was exactly what Winfield intended to do.

  It hadn’t been his imagination; Winfield had changed in the last few years. The man he had come to work for had been an honorable one. Somewhere along the line, Jack Winfield’s honor had gotten drained, sacrificed on the altar of a growing greed that demanded he forsake all his principles.

  If he had had any doubts about Winfield before, the phone calls Demi had just gotten from her green grocer and her butcher eliminated them. Obviously tired of waiting for him to strike some sort of amicable deal, Winfield was going for the jugular. Jared wasn’t about to allow him to do that. Especially not to Demi. He’d gotten too involved with her, with all of them. Theresa had gotten too involved. He couldn’t bear the look he knew would be on his daughter’s face if she should discover that he’d had a hand in helping Winfield make Demi sell her restaurant.

  For whatever it was worth, he was going to throw in with the losing side, and maybe, by joining forces with it, he’d turn the tide. After all, armed with a paltry slingshot, some rocks and a great deal of determination, David had avoided being crushed by the powerful Goliath.

  Maybe history could repeat itself.

  Or, at the very least, Winfield would lose interest in acquiring the little restaurant and turn his sights on buying out another one.

  Whatever the future held, Jared knew he had to take this step if he was ever going to look at himself in the mirror again.

  Nerves, he thought, just nerves.

  Jared tried to shake free of the uncomfortable feeling as he thought about the party that night. He wasn’t accustomed to it. Since he’d become part of Winfield, Inc., he’d attended and given countless dinner parties for an entire spectrum of reasons. Along the way, he’d become an old hand at mingling, at subtly turning small talk toward the proper channels.

  So far, he’d always had a fortuitous way of getting people to come around to his way of thinking.

  Which was why Demi had been such an revitalizing challenge. One he’d decided to retreat from, not because he’d lost his touch, but because he’d begun to really understand what it meant to her to have Aphr
odite. And what the place meant to others. Not financially but emotionally. You couldn’t put a price on that, even though Winfield thought he could.

  All those other parties he’d both attended and given had always revolved in some way around his work. But this time the purpose had changed. Rather than using it to promote and prematurely introduce Winfield’s latest venture as he’d originally intended, this party was for and about Demi. That made it personal and raised the stakes considerably.

  Since she wouldn’t accept his financial help, this orchestration was the only thing he could do. There was a lot riding on tonight. The continuation of her restaurant for one.

  The way she felt about him for another.

  He tried not to dwell on that.

  Demi arrived early to set up.

  Armed with a host of pots and pans in various sizes, she lay siege to the kitchen. Like a general establishing a beachhead in enemy territory, she deployed to their tasks the two women the temporary agency had sent her.

  Even though everything looked as if it was going smoothly, she looked a little uneasy.

  “Anything wrong?” Jared asked. He wasn’t accustomed to seeing her with a dubious expression.

  She shrugged off the question. “Catering in someone else’s house isn’t something I’m used to.” Her own kitchen was better suited to keeping everything warm. For one thing, it was a lot larger. For another, she knew where everything was. This kitchen felt like a shiny, miniature mausoleum. “Maybe I should have had you come to the restaurant.”

  That would teach her to argue with him. “Too late now.” Because no one was looking, he snuck in a quick kiss. He liked the quick flush of pleasure he saw on her cheeks before she caught herself. “Anything you want me to help with?”

  He’d rattled her. She didn’t like being rattled. Not when she was working. She needed a clear head.

  Demi snorted at his question. “Yeah, like I’d let you handle the food. You just go and get ready.” She began to usher him toward the hall. “We’ll handle it from here.”

  He had a hunch she’d say that. “Don’t forget, I want you at the party.”

  Demi nudged him on his way a little harder. “I didn’t forget.”

  Jared hesitated, wondering if there was a proper way to phrase this. None that he could think of. He forged ahead anyway. Tonight was important and she needed to look her best.

  His eyes swept over her. “Is that what you’re going to be wearing?”

  She looked down at the simple pullover and jeans she had on. “While we’re setting up, yes.” What did he think she was going to do, come dressed to the teeth and start stirring the avgolemono sauce?

  He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but it was a journey he had to take. “But you brought something to change into, right?”

  “I’ll be wearing the entree, strategically placed.” She pressed her lips together impatiently. “Yes, I brought something to change into.” She’d even gone so far as to ask for Nancy’s help. Between them, they’d located just the perfect dress. Or, at least, according to Nancy they had. “Now go. You’re beginning to make me nervous.”

  He grinned, his eyes teasing her. “Well, it’s about time.”

  Shaking her head, she waved him away. But she was smiling when she turned back to her work.

  Jared was just slipping on his jacket when he heard the doorbell chime. Adjusting his cuffs, he hurried into the hall.

  Out of habit, he glanced toward his daughter’s room, even though she wasn’t there. Theresa had been invited over for a pajama party at a friend’s house. Everything was dovetailing nicely.

  It just had to continue that way for a while longer.

  His housekeeper was just closing the front door behind the first two people to arrive, Ted and Christine Wexler, when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Jared crossed to them, his hands outstretched. He wanted to get them alone before the others began arriving.

  “Ted, Christine, you have no idea how glad I am that you could make it.”

  “Had to,” Ted told him. “Christine loves your parties. She’d never forgive me if I’d made other plans for tonight.”

  “I always said you had taste,” Jared told the older woman. Taking Christine’s arm, he escorted her to the living room. Ted followed.

  It was the first look Jared had at what Demi had done in preparation for the party. His wet bar had been extended, its supply supplemented with Aphrodite’s own stock. Bottles, some colorful, some quaint, of Greek liquors were strategically placed to both convey the ethnic theme Jared was going for and catch the light. They glistened, inviting attention. There were small, covered tables set up here and there, bearing fruit and various selections of finger food, temptingly arranged.

  From where he stood, Jared could see the dining room. The long, glass-topped table was elegantly set for dinner. But it was what was on the side that drew his attention—a slim table whose only function was to bear a large silver tray.

  On the tray was a veritable mountain of baklava.

  Jared lost no time in ushering his two guests toward it. “Ted, I’m going to do you a very big favor. I’m going to let you get to heaven without the daunting preliminary process of dying first.”

  Drawing closer to the side table, he saw that Demi had outdone herself. She’d brought not just one kind of baklava, but three. Almond, walnut and chocolate. He was tempted to indulge himself, but he couldn’t eat and talk at the same time. There was business to see to first.

  With small silver tongs, he picked up one of each kind and placed them on a plate for Christine, then duplicated a plate for Ted.

  Making no attempt to disguise his enthusiasm, Jared handed the plate to Ted. “Tell me what you think.”

  “You’re being very mysterious about this, Jared. I’ve had this stuff before.” To humor him, Ted took a bite of the pastry. A look of surprise, then abject pleasure spread across his face. As if each bite had a secret to tell, he began to chew very slowly. “No, I was wrong. I haven’t had this before. Not this quality.” He looked in wonder at the remainder in his hand. “It’s fantastic.” The next moment, it was gone.

  Jared let go of the breath he’d been holding. “My feeling exactly.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Christine was on her second piece, eating with gusto.

  A light entered Ted’s eyes. Jared knew exactly what he was thinking. Exactly what he’d hoped Ted would think. All that remained were the negotiations. And Demi’s approval.

  He wondered where she was. He hoped that she hadn’t decided at the last minute not to attend and go home instead. She needed to be here for this. To feel as good about it as he did. After all, the credit all belonged to her.

  “Why don’t you just let that melt on your tongue for a while?” he suggested to Ted. There was no need to twist the other man’s arm. “I have a little business proposition I want to run past you.”

  “For Winfield?” Ted’s white eyebrows rose with his question. It was hard to talk when his mouth was in ecstasy.

  “Not exactly. Hang on a minute, I have someone I want you to meet.” He looked around, but Demi still wasn’t down.

  Excusing himself, Jared went over to one of the servers. “Where is she?”

  Preoccupied with pouring out exact amounts of wine, the woman took a moment before looking up. “She went to change.” Her expression brightened as she looked over his shoulder. “Oh, there she is.”

  He turned, struggling to curb his impatience. He wanted to introduce her to Ted and get the ball in play.

  His impatience vanished as the sight of her registered with his brain.

  “Demi?” he whispered uncertainly.

  “You sound as if you’re not sure it’s me.” There was only one other couple in the room and they were very formally dressed. As was Jared. She hadn’t fully appreciated, until this moment, just how good-looking he was. How was it that this man was still unattached? “You did say this was black tie, didn’t you?”

 
“Yes, but…”

  There was no but, and he had no idea why the word had even slipped out of his mouth. For that matter, he had no clue how it had even managed to get past his thickened tongue to begin with.

  She took his breath away. Taking her hand, Jared drew her closer. The fragrance she was wearing was making him light-headed. “You’re gorgeous.”

  Up until this moment, she’d been a little uncertain about what his reaction would be. She knew she would have been bitterly disappointed if he’d taken all her efforts in stride.

  The look in his eyes made her feel beautiful. All the fussing had been worth it.

  Courtesy of her sister-in-law’s insistence, she had on a simple, floor-length black gown that hugged every curve like an amorous lover. It was cut in a deep V in front and an even deeper V that went down to her waist in back. She’d taken great pains to do her hair the way Nancy had shown her. It was in an upsweep with just enough tendrils cascading down her neck and temples to give her a slightly breathless appearance.

  “You can close your mouth now,” she whispered. She was very, very pleased with the look on his face.

  He couldn’t get enough of her. “Why didn’t you tell me you could look like that?”

  Her amusement grew. “What difference would that have made?”

  “For one, my heart wouldn’t have stopped beating when it saw you.”

  She tried not to sigh too loudly. “Sometimes, Panetta, you say the loveliest things.”

  He knew he was standing there gawking at her like some tongue-tied adolescent. With effort, he reminded himself that he had business to tend to. Her business.

  “There’s someone else here who has something lovely to say to you.” Turning, he tucked her arm through his and led her into the living room.

  Demi felt out of her element. She was far from accustomed to houses as fine as his, or to a guest list with people who regularly found their names in both the business and the social sections of the newspaper. “Why are you being so mysterious?”

  He wished there was no party right now, that he could tell his guests he’d made a mistake and invited them for the wrong night. Alone, he’d be free to do what he ached to do. Lose himself in her eyes, in her softness.