“Yes, I’ve heard of them.”
“They own twenty-five exclusive inns around the Midwest. Get to them, get to the rest of their family. Can your efforts tonight reel in prize fish like that?”
“Is this a business party or the hunting and gaming channel?”
“I want what I want. And ninety-nine percent of the time I get it.”
She shook her head at him.
He raised a brow. “I sound arrogant?”
“Arrogant, presumptuous, lacking in finesse.”
Her derogatory adjectives caused him to stiffen. “Do you ever not say what’s on your mind?”
“Once or twice. But it’s a rarity.”
Ethan had never been spoken to like this. At least not in the past fifteen years. He wasn’t used to it, but for some reason with her, it didn’t bother him all that much. In fact, her honesty and candor appealed to him.
“Mr. Curtis?” The pair that Ethan had just been talking about were walking toward him. The Underwoods were a handsome couple, very blond and tanned. Understated wealth oozed from them. They also appeared very much in love, their hands tightly clasped, only releasing each other when Ethan and Mary reached out a hand to greet them.
Emily gave Mary a warm, beautifully white smile. “I hear that you are the one responsible for this party?”
“I am,” Mary said pleasantly. “Are you enjoying yourself this evening, Mrs. Underwood?”
The woman looked confused. “Have we been introduced?”
“Not yet. But I’ve heard much about you and your husband, and of course your lovely inns, from my grandparents.”
“Your grandparents?”
“The Harringtons.”
The casual warmth from a moment ago morphed into a look of understanding and respect. “Of course. I should have noticed it before. You have your grandmother’s eyes. The shape.”
Mary smiled, but her stomach churned lightly as it did whenever someone found a similarity between her and her grandmother. She didn’t despise the woman like her father did, but growing up she had always been compared with her and had desperately wanted to be compared to her mother instead. But they’d looked so different it was almost impossible to see.
Ethan’s hand came to rest on her back and she instinctively leaned into him. “Have you had a boat ride?” he asked, gesturing toward the lake. When they nodded, he asked them if they’d tried the food.
Chuckling, Isaac spoke then, “The food is amazing, Curtis. Really. Both Emily and I have taken full advantage of your hospitality.” He turned to Mary. “We must have the name of your chef. There are a few things we’d love to add to our menus.”
“Of course,” Mary replied. “The chef is my business partner, Olivia. I’ll make sure to give you her name and number before you leave. But first, I see that the waitstaff are bringing out the desserts. You must try the pistachio crème brûlée with orange ice cream.”
“Sounds delicious,” Emily said with childlike enthusiasm.
Lowering her voice, Mary said conspiratorially, “Heavenly actually.” She gestured toward the house. “Let’s make sure you both have at least one.”
Emily giggled. “At least. Come along, Isaac.”
Before Mary could disappear, Ethan grabbed her arm. “Why are you sending them away? I wanted to speak with them about—”
“Relax, Curtis,” she said softly, her eyes bright with mischief. “They’ll be back. And because they want to, not because they’ve been hooked, yanked onto a boat and gutted.”
Equally shocked and impressed, Ethan studied her. “Very nice.”
She inclined her head. “Thank you.”
Ethan’s gaze followed her hungrily as she walked off to feed crème brûlée to his guests.
Some men resembled excessively tall penguins in their tuxedoes. Some looked awkward and uncomfortable. But Ethan Curtis wore his like a second skin. As he stalked his estate, he looked like a predator in search of his next prey—and he seemed to take his targets down with amazing speed and assuredness. By the end of the night, several potential clients had verbally signed on to Harrington Corp.’s already thick roster, and as Mary had predicted, the Underwoods had come back to him in a sugar haze, asking for a meeting at his office the following Monday.
When Mary found Ethan he was in the kitchen, looking very pleased with himself, his bow tie undone and falling against his open white shirt. Beer in hand, he chatted with the on-site chef, Jean Paul, as the man prepared to leave.
Mary shut her eyes against the sudden and unbidden image of Ethan out of that tux, his heavily muscled, tanned skin pressing down into the cushion of a woman’s body—her body. She despised her reaction to him and to the memory of those nights together. Why couldn’t she get it through her thick skull that those moments were over? Yes, sometimes he looked at her with a flicker of desire in his eyes, but the moment was over in seconds and he was back to business. He hadn’t even commented on how she looked tonight, and she was really working it.
She grabbed her purse from the counter by the fridge. What did it matter? She was the one insisting that nothing romantic ever happen again. She faced him and spoke in her most professional voice. “Well, we’re done here. If there’s nothing else…”
Jean Paul discreetly returned to his knives, and Ethan regarded her with open respect. “I owe you a very big thank-you.”
“You’re welcome. It was a success, I think.”
“Completely.” He came to stand before her, his dark-blue eyes glittering with the satisfaction of a tiger who’d just bagged several hunters for dinner. His sensuous mouth turned up at the corners as he grinned at her, stealing her breath. “In fact, many of my guests are wondering what you’ll come up with next.”
“They’ll just have to wait and see.”
“I’m wondering, too.” One of his dark brows lifted. “Do I have to wait?”
If he came any closer, she was going to lose it. Feeling irritatingly light-headed, she reached out for the granite countertop to steady herself. “We could discuss the menus and themes at any time.”
“How about now? I didn’t get one of the boat rides.”
“I don’t know if the guys are still out there.”
His grinned widened. “I think I can manage to take you for a ride myself.”
“Ethan Curtis, where have you been?” The slow, whiskey-smooth female voice came from behind Mary, and she turned with a jerk to see a five-foot-nine Playboy playmate, dressed in an orange tank dress.
“Allison, where did you come from?” Ethan asked, sounding more annoyed than surprised.
“Didn’t you say eleven? I don’t wear a watch, but I could swear I’m right on time.” Her voice and body language just screamed sex.
Mary heard Ethan curse, but she didn’t dare turn back to face him, not with her neck turning red as she knew it was. He had a date. An after-party date. Of course he did. Why not?
“Wait for me by the pool, Allison,” Ethan said, his voice soft but commanding. “I’m not quite finished here.”
Finding her nerve at long last, Mary forgot about her red neck and gave the hot blonde a hotter glare. “Allison, is it?”
She smiled. “Two Ls and two Ns.”
Brilliant and beautiful,