Later that evening they dined at The Palm, a well-established Los Angeles restaurant known for their specialty of the house—jumbo Nova Scotia lobsters—to celebrate Evan’s birthday. It was his mother’s favorite place to eat when in L.A. Caricatures of famous celebrities who’d frequented the restaurant were painted on the walls and every time Rebecca came in, his mother would find several new cartoons drawn onto the “living murals.”
It was just the four of them and Evan liked it that way. He wasn’t one for big parties and displays. That was more Brock’s style. He and Trent ran the Tempest Hotels in Texas, New Mexico, Colorado and Arizona while Evan kept control of all their California hotels from San Diego to Hollywood to San Francisco. He was also in charge of acquisitions, being the better negotiator of the three. Soon, they’d add the Maui Paradise hotel to their chain.
But Evan wanted more. He wanted The Royals. If he could acquire them in a deal with Laney Royal, not only would Tempest stand to gain more widespread national appeal, but they would have knocked out their biggest competitor. He’d just have to make sure Laney saw things his way tomorrow night.
Actually, he couldn’t wait for the challenge.
Five
Laney pulled her hair back and secured it with a barrette at the nape of her neck. She put on a black suit, a fitted blazer and skirt that screamed all business, no pleasure. She wore little jewelry, but for the diamond stud earrings that had been her mother’s. She’d treat this dinner with Evan as business as usual and nothing more.
That was the plan until she answered the knock on her front door precisely at eight o’clock to find Evan standing there, looking like every woman’s fantasy. Dressed in slate gray, wearing an Italian cut suit, his dark hair groomed and combed back with just a hint of stubble on his face, and no cowboy boots to be found, he earned an admiring stare from Laney.
“It’s good to see you, Laney.” He said it as if he meant it. A shiver of sexual awareness shimmied through her body. She peered over his shoulder to the jet-black limousine waiting. She realized she’d grossly underdressed for whatever Evan had in mind, and normally the fashion faux pas would have plagued her all evening. But tonight she decided to turn the tables on him.
“I think I would have preferred cowboy boots, Evan.”
He took no offense, but only laughed. “Then let’s just make a quick stop to my penthouse and—”
“No, thank you,” she said quickly. “I want to remind you, this is a business dinner.”
Evan studied her hair and the blond waves she’d tucked safely into a sterling silver prison. His gaze traveled to her face, meeting her eyes with a slow searing look before lowering to her lips. Laney’s heart beat harder. Her head swam as he scrutinized her mouth. And when he dipped his gaze lower yet to scan her buttoned lace blouse and the hint of cleavage Laney couldn’t hide, she had to warn herself to be careful. He wasn’t to be trusted.
“You look beautiful.”
“I wasn’t going for beautiful.”
“I know. You can’t help it.”
His compliment shot straight to her head, like a brain freeze after sipping an ice-cold chocolate malt too quickly. But Laney rebelled against it. She retreated back in her doorway. “This isn’t a good idea.”
Evan reached for her hand, wrapping his fingers over hers. “It’s a very good idea.” He softened his tone. “You’re working too hard. Take a break. Let’s have a quiet meal and talk.”
She hated that his touch, the soothing way his hand covered hers, didn’t repel her. Or that the sound of his voice only brought familiar, fond memories. She wouldn’t be fooled again, but she did need answers from him.
Her stomach was back on the blink. She’d barely eaten a bite today, the thought of food making her sick. She only hoped she could make it through dinner tonight with him.
“Okay, fine.” She released herself from his grasp and locked up her house. “Let’s get this over with.”
Evan set a hand to her back guiding her to the limousine, waving off his chauffeur and opening the door for her himself. She settled into the backseat as he closed the door.
Before she knew it, they’d traveled to the beach and headed north up the coastline.
“You ready for some wine? Champagne?”
She looked at the fully stocked bar again, then up at him. “No, thank you. I’m not celebrating anything.”
He leaned back against the cushiony leather seat. “At one time, you didn’t need a reason to have a drink with me.”
“That wasn’t you, Evan.”
“No? How can you be so sure?”
“I’m sure,” she said rather smugly, proud that she’d managed to put a frown on his face.
“You know, you don’t need to cover yourself up in a prim business suit. I know what’s underneath. And I’m not just speaking about your sexy body.”
“Sure, say that now while the car is traveling at sixty miles an hour and I can’t jump out.”
Evan let go a deep chuckle. “Smart-ass.”
All in all, Laney was pretty darn proud of herself for holding her own with the likes of ruthless, driven, gorgeous, Evan Tyler.
In her estimation, he was no better than Justin Overton. Both men had hurt her, but Evan had the distinction of possibly being responsible for her father’s heart attack. And while he was her baby’s father, he was also her enemy, a man she would never trust.
Originally, Evan wanted to hate Laney Royal. She was the spoiled, wealthy, indulged daughter of Nolan Royal. How could she be anything else? But he’d found her remarkably unlike her father, which had been a genuine surprise. The woman with the hot little body and pretty sky-blue eyes had wit and humor and brains to match. In his quest to extract information from her, he’d found that he’d enjoyed the time he spent with her on the island.
He wanted her hotels and she couldn’t stand the sight of him. She looked at him as if a monstrous blast of fire would spew out his mouth any second. But she was far from a withering damsel in distress. That made what he was about to do very tricky. He’d tried speaking to her rational side without success, so tonight he’d have to speak to her emotions.
When they reached the seaside restaurant, Evan took Laney’s hand and led her inside. They were immediately shown to an intimate corner table he’d reserved for the night.
“I hope this meets with your approval,” Bradley, the maître d’, said.
“This is perfect. Thank you.”
Oysters on the half shell and a bottle of fine red wine awaited them. Outside spotlights shimmered on the shoreline, illuminating crashing waves upon the sand. Stars glimmered above. Warm summer air filtered in through the expanse of open French doors lining the back of the restaurant.
“This is very nice, Evan. But hardly a place to conduct business.”
Evan smiled. “Let me worry about that.”
He poured her a glass of wine and then one for himself. Color drained from Laney’s face the minute she glanced at the oysters.
“What’s wrong? I know you love oysters. We had our share of them—”
“Stop!” She put up a hand and closed her eyes. “I’d appreciate you not reminding me about anything I said or did on Maui. Okay?”
He narrowed his eyes. What was up with her? “What are you