“This is too much,” she said, her laughter finally subsiding. She took a deep breath to compose herself. “Just what kind of woman do you think I am?”
“I…I…”
“And what kind of man would even consider using a woman that way?”
This had gone far enough. “I think you misunderstood me. I had no—”
“You know,” she interjected, “I’ve met some male chauvinists before, but I didn’t realize men like you still existed.”
“If you’d just let me get a word in edgewise,” he said between clenched teeth, “you’d find out I had absolutely no intention of taking you up on your offer.”
But instead of mollifying her, his words actually seemed to offend her. Sparks lit her eyes. “So not only did you believe I was willing to prostitute myself, you have the nerve to sit there and tell me you’re not the least bit interested!”
“I never said that,” Trace growled. “I’m very interested. I’m so interested I can barely sit up straight. In fact, if you’d like me to prove it to you, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said primly. “Because I’m definitely not interested. Now, may we please return to the subject at hand?”
He was both disappointed and confused. “What subject?”
She settled back in her chair, visibly calmer now. As much as he hated to admit it, she was just as appealing to him in the heat of anger. Maybe even more so. A rosy blush stained her creamy cheeks. Her brown eyes sparkled. His own blood raced in anticipation of what she might say or do next.
“Family loyalty,” she replied evenly. “Ramon is the only reason I showed up here tonight.”
He stifled a groan. Ramon. Why did she have to remind him? Although, perhaps it was a good thing she had, considering the directions his thoughts had taken just a scant moment ago. She was a D’Onofrio. Which meant she was off-limits.
She tilted her head to one side as she studied him. “So are you interested in my proposition?”
He scowled. “Maybe you’d better explain exactly what you mean by proposition.”
“Fine. I’ll talk slowly this time so you understand.” She leaned forward. “If you’ll hire my brother back, I’ll pretend to like you.”
“Be still my heart,” he said dryly. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
She arched a brow. “I thought you said family loyalty is important to you. Are you really willing to disappoint your aunt? She was almost in tears when she heard my tirade against you.”
“Tirade? I thought you just called me a couple of names.”
“Among other things.” She cleared her throat. “The point is, she has her heart set on bringing the two of us together. Are you willing to break it?”
Chloe couldn’t have hit her mark better if she’d drawn a bull’s-eye on his chest. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his aunt. He owed her. Big-time. Still, he couldn’t marry the wrong woman just to make his aunt happy. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Chloe,” he said with a long sigh. “It just wouldn’t work out between us.”
“Of course not.” She rolled her eyes. “That goes without saying. But if we pretend to give it a go, your aunt will eventually see the writing in the coffee grounds. She’ll realize we’re completely wrong for each other.”
“You can say that again.”
“We’re completely wrong for each other.”
He frowned at her. “That was just a figure of speech.”
“I know. I just wanted to repeat it, in case you once again fall under the delusion that I want to sleep with you.”
Her words pricked him more than he wanted to admit. “Not a problem.”
“So do we have a deal?”
His common sense told him to turn her down and turn her out of his condominium. But his love for his aunt overrode his better judgment. “Yes.”
“Good. I’ll tell Ramon that he can start work again first thing in the morning.” She stood and held out her hand. “Shall we shake on it?”
Trace complied, surprised by the strength of her grip. “Give me a chance to call my insurance agent first. I want to up my workman’s comp to the max. Not to mention my life insurance.” Then he stood up to follow her, momentarily forgetting about his sore toe. “Wait a minute. What about us?”
She turned around. “Us?”
“We should probably go out on a date or two just to make this look real.” He limped toward her. “I’m free Friday evening.”
She shrugged. “All right. The sooner we can convince your aunt we’re completely wrong for each other, the better. Shall we meet at Café Romeo?”
“I’ll pick you up at your place,” he said firmly. “This is supposed to be like a real date, remember? We can go to dinner first, then stop at Café Romeo for a cappuccino later.”
“Fine.” She pulled a business card out of her purse and handed it to him. “My home address and telephone number are on my card.” Then she turned and headed toward the door. “Do you want me to make reservations? I know a great Mexican restaurant.”
“I hate Mexican food,” he said, limping after her.
“How about Japanese?”
He grimaced. “Please tell me you’re not serious.”
She sighed. “All right, what would you like to eat?”
“How about plain old American?”
She laughed. “My favorite.”
“Mine, too. Seems we have something in common, after all.”
“Scary, isn’t it?” she quipped, then sailed out the door.
Trace watched her walk toward her car, a sporty red Ford Taurus that matched the color of her suit. The way that skirt molded to her swaying hips made his mouth go dry. Then realization sunk in. He had a date with Chloe D’Onofrio in three days.
Scary was definitely the word for it.
BY FRIDAY, Trace was more than scared, he was downright suspicious. The night before he’d lain in his bed, unable to sleep, and replayed Chloe’s unexpected visit in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced she had or-chestrated every aspect of their encounter—right down to the alluring shade of lipstick she wore. How else could he explain the fact that he had a date with Chloe D’Onofrio only three short days after vowing to his aunt that he’d never fall into one of her matchmaking traps?
Then another thought hit him, chilling him to the very marrow. Maybe Sophie had planned it this way all along. Asking him to hire Ramon, the power-saw incident, Chloe’s visit and their unusual deal.
“Don’t you think you’re just a little paranoid,” Jake Callahan said, after Trace had explained his suspicions to his brother. They stood in the large, plush dressing room of Sir Galahad Formal Wear.
Trace adjusted the blue silk cummerbund around his waist. “You tell me. I’m trying on tuxedos with my confirmed-bachelor brother, who is getting married in six weeks, thanks to Aunt Sophie.”
“I’ve thanked her more than once,” Jake replied, knotting his bow tie. “Nina is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“It was a fluke.” Trace shrugged into a black cutaway jacket. “You don’t really believe Aunt Sophie can read romantic futures in a pile of soggy coffee grounds.”
“If