Page 80 of Bad Luck Bride

“What the hell did he come for?” Devlin demanded, his ire rising. “To gloat and rub your face in it?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She paused, propping her elbow on her desk and resting her cheek in her hand. “Funnily enough,” she said thoughtfully, “I think he wanted to make peace.”

“Him?” Devlin made a sound of derision between his teeth. “I doubt it.”

“Well, his desire to make peace probably has something to do with my long-standing friendship with the Duke of Westbourne’s sisters. It’s a valuable connection, and I imagine he’d like to salvage it.”

“That sounds more like him.”

“Either way, I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“No. You see…” She straightened and looked up, meeting his gaze. “The truth is, I’d already been getting cold feet. He was becoming irrationally possessive, and it was really beginning to get on my nerves. It was a good thing he came to see me, because that’s when I realized that marrying him would have been a horrible mistake.”

“Oh, really?” Devlin’s mood brightened at once.

She frowned at him. “Stop smiling like the Cheshire cat,” she ordered sternly. “Just because I realized Wilson wasn’t right, that doesn’t make what you did any less wrong.”

He wiped the smile off his face at once. “Of course not,” he said, doing his best to look appropriately chastened.

“Anyway, I wished them both happiness.” She paused, tilting her head. “Do you think they will be? Happy, I mean?”

He considered. “It’s hard to say. If you want my opinion, I think it’s a case of the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object.”

“You may be right. But,” she added and flashed him an unexpected grin, “which is which?”

He gave a shout of laughter. “Good question.”

She laughed, too, and as he watched her wide, radiant smile light up her whole face, he felt his throat go dry. “Well, look at that smile,” he murmured. “Now, that’s a bit of all right.”

Her smile faded, but she didn’t look away. “Still,” she said, “twelve dozen gardenias? A bit excessive, Devlin, don’t you think?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

He let his gaze fall to her mouth. “On what one hopes to achieve.”

He thought he heard her catch her breath, and he thought she was going to ask him how he’d known gardenias were her favorite, but she didn’t.

For that impudence, he decided a little revenge was in order. Slowly, he reached out, tucking a loose tendril of her hair behind her ear. He let his hand linger, relishing the blush in her cheek and the velvety softness of her skin against his fingertips, then he drew his hand away, leaning back in his chair.

“So,” he said, somehow managing to sound coolly businesslike, “what is this project?”

“Project?” She shook her head and gave a little cough. “Oh, yes, the project.”

He thought her voice sounded a little bit breathless, indicating that she wasn’t as immune to his touch as she’d probably like to be, and he had to work hard to keep a smile from his face. She reached for a file on her desk, opened it, and extracted a sheet of paper.

“This,” she said, holding the sheet out to him across the desk, “is a list of London hotels that are currently for sale or that might be in financial trouble. Delia would like you to investigate them,” she went on as he took the sheet from her fingers, “and put together a report for Lord Calderon and the Duke of Westbourne as to which ones you think the Mayfair Hotel Company may want to purchase. I am to give you any assistance you might require.”

He looked up, and this time, he couldn’t help teasing her. “Any assistance I require?” he murmured, earning himself a frown in return.

“Within reason,” she clarified. “And that most certainly does not include reading your letters or dancing with you or accepting marriage proposals from you.”

“Spoilsport,” he murmured, gratified when she laughed.

He glanced over the list of a dozen names. “I can tell you already that the Algonquin is not a likely possibility,” he said. “It’s owned by Lloyd Pierce, and he’s an obstinate chap. The hotel has been in his family for generations, and even if it’s bleeding money, I doubt he’ll ever sell. His creditors will have to drag him out of there by his heels.”

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