Free Release Me by J. Kenner Page A

been shocked—my mother would have had a coronary right then and there. But I’d also been impressed.
    As far as I can tell, Damien Stark takes that attitude to an extreme.
    “Her name is Giselle,” he says, and his voice is soft. “She owns the gallery that’s showing Blaine’s work.”
    “I thought Evelyn was showing the work.”
    “Evelyn hosted the party. She’s become something of a patron for Blaine. But tomorrow morning the paintings will be transported to Giselle’s gallery. This cocktail date with Giselle and her husband has been on my calendar for over a week now. It’s business, and not something I could get out of. But I did step away in order to call you.”
    “Oh.”
Her husband
. “Oh.”
    On the one hand, I’m frustrated that I’m so transparent. On the other hand, he’s calling to soothe me, and the sweetness ofthat gesture moves me. Of course, I shouldn’t let it. I should be strong and tell him he shouldn’t have bothered. Because whatever is happening between us, it needs to be quickly nipped in the bud.
    “So where are you?” I ask, completely ignoring my own wise counsel.
    “Sur la Mer,” he says, naming a Malibu restaurant and bar that’s so chic even I’ve heard of it.
    “I’ve heard it’s excellent.”
    “The food is exquisite,” he says, “but it’s the ambience that really sets the place apart. It’s charming, but intimate. It’s the perfect place to have a drink and discuss business when one doesn’t want to be overheard. Or to not discuss business, for that matter.”
    The intimate edge has crept back into his voice, and I squirm a little. “And you’re there strictly for business?”
    His low chuckle rocks through me. “I assure you that a tryst with Giselle and her husband is not on the agenda. I’m not interested in men. Or in married women.”
    I keep silent.
    “I want to see you again, Nikki. And I think you would enjoy the food here very much.”
    “Just the food?” In my head the words had been teasing. Out loud, they are soft and provocative. I close my eyes, trying to steady myself before I go hurtling down that slippery slope.
    “Well, the coffee is good, too.”
    “I—I like coffee,” I admit. I take a deep breath. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
    “Thousands of coffee bean growers across the globe would disagree with you.”
    “Dinner. Coffee. A date. With you. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
    “Really? I find it exceptionally appealing.”
    “Mr. Stark …”
    “Ms. Fairchild,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
    “You’re exasperating.”
    “So I’ve been told. But I prefer the word ‘persistent.’ I don’t take no for an answer.”
    “Sometimes, that’s the only answer there is.”
    “Perhaps. But this isn’t one of those times.”
    I can’t help but smile as I settle more comfortably back against the soft leather upholstery. “Isn’t it? You forget that I’m the one who has to say yes or no, and I’ve already told you my answer, and I don’t intend to change it.”
    “No?”
    “Sorry. But I’m afraid you’ve met your match, Mr. Stark.”
    “I certainly hope so, Ms. Fairchild,” he says.
    I frown a bit as I try to guess just where he’s shifting the conversation. Because I know damn well he’s not giving in. To be honest, I’d be disappointed if he was.
    “I asked you this once and you evaded the question. Let me try again—are you attracted to me?”
    “I—excuse me?”
    His laugh is low and soft. “I’m quite certain you heard me, but in the interest of fair play, I’ll repeat the question. Slowly and clearly. Are you attracted to me?”
    I open my mouth, then shut it again because I have absolutely no idea how I should respond.
    “It’s not a trick question,” he says, though of course I know it is.
    “I am,” I finally say, because it’s the truth and I have no doubt he knows it. “But so what? What straight female on this planet isn’t attracted to you?