“Thirty-five.”
“Forty,” Roman said firmly. “He just signed for the Superman remake at forty.”
Kate closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Garrett is a movie junkie. He’s just trying to deal himself in on la-la land.”
Roman leaned forward. “So, let me be clear. You turned down a chance at Patrick Sauvage for five million on a principal?”
Kate opened her eyes. Her gaze riveted him to the spot. “You’re saying I should have taken his money?” Her tone was reasonable. Light.
Deceptive.
Roman wasn’t fooled. He’d seen warmer eyes over duelling pistols. But despite seeing through her mellow tone, he could feel his heart start up all by itself...something that hadn’t happened in a good long while. Duelling mentally with Kate was stimulating him in ways he’d almost forgotten.
“Come on, Kate,” he chided her gently. “You really think I’m the sort that would suggest lying down with the dogs like that? If I was, I wouldn’t have come here to check if you were okay when you didn’t show today. I would have fucked off and figured you had better things to do, and found something more interesting to do myself.”
Her eyes didn’t release him. “It sounded a lot like you were suggesting I should have grabbed the deal.”
“I was clarifying. I wanted to be sure you really do have the backbone I thought you had.” Roman grinned. “I have to say, I admire your guts. There’s not too many people I know with courage enough to take on Calum Garrett.”
Kate leaned forward. “Truth? I didn’t know I was taking him on. I just turned him down, Adrian. I figured that was it.”
“Even after the basement thing? I told you that sort of guy doesn’t take no for an answer.” He leaned forward, too. “Would knowing you were taking him on have changed your answer?”
She considered for a good long five seconds, her full lips pursed. “No,” she said at last. Then she smiled at him. “Damn it, you always manage to do that somehow, don’t you?”
“Do what?” he asked, honestly curious.
“Make me see the whole picture more clearly.”
“Is that what I do?” He was honestly surprised. “It’s not intentional.”
“But you do it anyway. It’s the way you think. You see things just differently enough. From twenty thousand feet up, or further out, or something. So you always end up asking the question that makes me step back and see it all from the top of the chessboard.” She swayed forward through the few inches of space that remained between them and touched her lips to his.
As kisses went, it barely counted. There was four feet of cherry wood desk between them, just to start. Kate looked like she had been short on sleep for the five days since Roman had last seen her, and no woman, no matter how wonderfully endowed her natural beauty, could come up looking fabulous after being on her feet for a week of high stress and too much coffee.
But the touch of her lips was delightful anyway. They were soft and pressed against his own. Heated moist flesh. Human flesh. And if Roman had a weakness, it was for the warmth of a human’s touch.
His hand rose to cup the corner of her jaw all on its own. He slid his thumb underneath, to touch the soft flesh beneath her chin, and feel the echo of her pulse.
Then she was pulling away, leaning back into her chair. She pushed her hand through her messy, tangled curls and cleared her throat, her eyes on her coffee mug.
Roman read her awkwardness far too easily. She had stepped over her own go-slow barrier. He could smell her arousal.
He spared her any more discomfort. “Do you want to take Garrett on at his own game and win, Kate?”
She lifted her head. “God, yes. Who wouldn’t? But I don’t have the sort of resources he does. He has hot and cold running lawyers and connections around the globe—”
“That’s not the game you want to play, though.”
She frowned.
Roman sat back. “I’m sure you’ve heard the expression, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’?”
Kate’s frown stayed in place, but Roman could see she was thinking it through. He stayed silent, letting her puzzle it out. She looked at him. “How is that any different from letting him win?”
“You keep control. Including the end play.”
Her eyes lost their focus as her mind went into overdrive. Roman could see her working it out. Her lips parted, as the ideas came faster and faster. Her pulse was leaping at the base of her throat as her excitement rose.
She refocused on Roman and her smile, this time, was sparkling with wickedness. “Adrian, you’re a fucking genius.” She moved around the desk, still thinking, refining it. Excitement was making her movements hurried. Adrenaline had woken her from the five day slump.
She reached over her desk and picked up the cellphone lying there. “One moment,” she said, and rapidly thumbed out a text message. The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile that had all sorts of devil mixed up in it.
Roman wondered what mischief she was suddenly brewing.
She tossed the phone back onto her desk, then pushed at his shoulder so the chair swivelled to face her. Then she nudged his surprise a cog further. She sat in his lap.
“Your idea is perfect, Adrian.” Her voice was the low, husky contralto that always seemed to vibrate at the bottom of his spine. “Or it will be, if you come with me.”