Rules of Negotiation (4 page)

“Frank Alessandro, the owner. He’s a good friend of the family.”

Serena led them through an arched doorway into a second, quieter room and pointed them toward a small table in the back corner. Brit held out the chair for Tori and pushed it in behind her. For a second, he allowed his hand to brush against her neck, and smiled with satisfaction when she shivered in response.

Once they were seated, the waitress handed out menus, giving Brit a wink as she did. “I would tell you about the specials, but Frank finished a fresh batch of your Alfredo sauce a few minutes ago. I think you had better order it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.” Brit ignored the menu. “Can you bring us a bottle of red to start? Whatever Frank recommends.”

“Absolutely.” She nodded and headed back for the front.

“I like this place,” Tori said with surprise. “It’s definitely not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Something a bit flashier, to be honest.”

“Flashy? Where would you get that idea?”

She grinned. “I don’t know, let’s see…you’re the CEO of a large, successful company, your nickname is The Slayer, and weren’t they going to make a reality show about you?
The Bachelor NYC
?”

He chuckled. “Don’t believe everything you read. But you’re right. I don’t bring many people here. It’s really more of a family place.”

“So why did you bring me?” Her eyes gleamed with suspicion.

Careful, Brit
.
She’s too damn smart to fall for a line
.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I had a feeling you’d enjoy it.” He shrugged at the unintended confession, and watched her tongue flick over her bottom lip. He let his gaze linger there, then sweep over her full breasts.

“Tell me about your family,” she said, her words tripping over each other in her eagerness to change the subject. He noted with satisfaction that she flushed under his regard. “You’re the eldest?”

“Yes, lucky me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Brit noticed a familiar stocky figure enter the room. He looked away quickly, hoping to escape notice, but it was no use. He tried not to glower too obviously. “Believe it or not, here comes one of my brothers now.”

“Hey, ugly, long time no see!” Ross called out, his eyes darting instantly to Tori.

Brit stood and gave Ross the back-pounding that was their traditional greeting. His younger brother by only thirteen months, Ross was broader in the chest, more heavily muscled than Brit, and spent time keeping it that way. They shared the same olive skin as their mother and square jaw of their father, but otherwise could not have been more different. In school, Ross enjoyed the rough camaraderie of football, while Brit preferred the solitary competition of track. Ross was a builder, always working with his hands, while Brit spent much of their childhood with his nose buried in a book.

Ross beamed down at Tori. “Well, well, well, who do we have here?”

Brit’s felt his smile grow tight. The other thing he and Ross shared was an intense sibling rivalry that had often manifested itself in a competition over women. He stepped back and gestured reluctantly toward Tori. “Tori Anderson, this is my brother Ross Bencher. Ross, this is Tori. She and I are working on a deal together.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Tori said.

Ross pressed a kiss to the back of Tori’s hand and gave her a playful leer. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Brit fought a sudden desire to plant a fist right in the middle of the six-pack of which his brother was so proud.

As Tori started to stand, Ross released her hand and waved her back to her seat. “Please, don’t get up. I don’t want to disturb your dinner.”

You mean you want to keep eyeing her cleavage
.

Brit angled his body in between them. “So, little brother, what brings you in tonight? I thought the kids were with you this week.”

Ross held out his hands and shrugged helplessly. “They’re at home with Mariel. I couldn’t face another one of my meatball sandwiches so I stopped in for some Alfredo. Mariel’s my next-door neighbor,” he explained to Tori. “I have custody of my kids every other week and she helps out when I’ve got an emergency. Like tonight.”

“You really shouldn’t leave them with a neighbor,” Brit said with a frown. Sometimes he wondered how Ross’s ex-wife could have agreed to shared custody. “Besides, isn’t it past bedtime?”

“Brit fancies himself everyone’s father,” Ross confided to Tori. “He thinks I’m an absolutely hopeless parent.”

“Oh really?” She gave Ross one of her warm, genuine smiles. “That’s hard to believe.”

“All too true,” Ross said, warming to his topic. “And you wouldn’t believe the way he hovers over our sister, Melissa. It’s a wonder she doesn’t—”

“Don’t you need to check on your order?” Brit asked. The last thing he needed was for Ross to open his big mouth.

“No, Serena’s bringing it out to me.” Ross glanced back and forth between Tori and Brit, his gaze turning speculative. “So what brings you to Alessandro’s, big brother? This isn’t your usual after-work hangout.”

“I thought Tori would enjoy Frank’s Alfredo.”

“Is that right?” Ross waited for a moment.

Brit tightened his jaw and refused to elaborate. Damned if he was going to explain anything to his distinctly untrustworthy brother.

“I’m flying back to Philly tomorrow,” Tori added. “I’m only in town for the night.”

“You know, it’s interesting. I don’t think Brit’s ever brought anyone here before. At least, not that I’ve ever seen.”

Serena appeared with a brown paper bag and handed it to Ross. He took it and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Looks like I’m ready to go. You two have a nice dinner. Brit, I’ll see you next Saturday. Don’t forget, Luke has a game at eleven.”

Brit snorted. “You’ve forgotten more games than I have.” He sighed with relief as Ross said good-bye to Tori and left the room. “Sometimes it’s great to have a close family, and sometimes…”

Tori glanced at Ross’s retreating back. “He seems very nice.”

Nice like a hyena
, Brit thought. “Sometimes I get a little tired of cleaning up after him, but someone’s got to do it. What about you?” he asked. “Any brothers or sisters?”

“No. Just me and my mom.” She buried her head in her menu. “I suppose I better take a look at my options—or should I go with the Alfredo?”

Brit made a mental note to find out what had happened to the mother she was so uncomfortable talking about.

“Trust me,” he said. He pulled the menu from her trembling hands. She was too bright for him to bring up Solen now, he thought, with a small amount of relief. Perhaps after dinner. Yes, that was it. When they’d had a few bottles of wine, and her defenses were down. He’d ask her about Solen then.

“I’ll take care of you tonight,” Brit promised. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Chapter Five

After Ross’s departure and several glasses of an excellent merlot, Tori began to relax enough to enjoy Brit’s company. He kept her off-balance by alternatively stroking her hand and gently touching her knee under the table, but she managed not do anything morbidly embarrassing, like drop a noodle down her dress, spill her wine, or say anything further about her mother.

It took some effort, though, to silence her mother’s voice, echoing in her mind.

He’s not your type, Tori.

Never trust a charming man, Tori.

He’ll break your heart, Tori. Men like that always do
.

Resolutely, she pushed the familiar warnings aside. Tonight was going to be different. Brit’s behavior around his brother, the possessive, almost proprietary way he growled at Ross when he kissed her hand, had finally convinced her that this date might be for real. She convinced herself to relax and enjoy whatever the night may bring.

At least for now. When they were alone, she planned on freaking out all over again.

The Alfredo was indeed something to write home about—creamy and fragrant, and so rich she could eat only a tiny portion of the enormous plate she was served. Brit was as funny and charming as the gossip rags suggested. He made her laugh with his dead-on imitation of Harold, and they discovered a shared love of unhealthy food and good wine. In fact, the evening passed so quickly that Tori was shocked it was after midnight when they finally headed out for Brit’s car.

The wine had left her head pleasantly fuzzy, and she leaned gratefully on Brit’s arm as he guided her out the restaurant door and into the waiting Mercedes. Ella Fitzgerald’s throaty voice filled the interior as Tori leaned her head against the back of the seat and slouched down into the soft leather.

Putting her arms behind her ears, she stretched languidly. “Mmmm,” she sighed. “That was truly an exceptional meal. Frank makes the finest tiramisu I’ve ever tasted.” The chef had come to their table not long after they finished the main course. He had insisted she try the rich, espresso-soaked cake, even though Tori protested that she had already gained three pounds from eating her pasta.

Brit cast her an amused look. “You look like a cat, all ready to curl up and take a nap in the sun.”

She watched him through her lashes and stretched again. Her body felt heavy and full, the food and the wine combining with a delicious sensual anticipation that left everything clouded in a pleasant haze.

“Meow.”

Tori was startled by the sound of her own voice.

Did you
actually
make a sound like a cat?

She was obviously still living some other woman’s life. Tori Anderson, workaholic overachiever attorney, would never make that sound. Hell, Tori Anderson would never be here, in the back of a car, with a man destined someday to be voted Sexiest Man in America.

He leaned over and ran a hand along the side of her face, where a mix of waves and curls spilled over her shoulder. In a second, her body became alert, acutely aware of his every move. His fingers stroked the length of her hair, then came back to trace the line of her jaw. Her throat tightened, and without conscious thought, she placed her own hand on his thigh. A muscle moved, hardened under her touch. She slid her hand from his knee to the top of his hip, marveling as she did at the ridges of muscles under her fingers.

They stopped at a red light. As throaty saxophones harmonized with Ella, Brit caught her hand and pulled it to his lips.

“I would take you home with me,” he said into her flesh, “but I don’t think I can wait that long. Your hotel is closer. Is that all right?”

He waited for a response, leaving the larger question unasked. In a heartbeat, the old Tori Anderson reasserted herself, and her eyes fluttered closed. She didn’t even know this man, other than his reputation, and worse yet, they were in the midst of finalizing a deal.

She couldn’t. She simply couldn’t.

She nodded. “Please.”

…

By the time they reached the hotel, Tori’s entire body was throbbing with a mix of fear and anticipation. Brit led her inside. Though it was late, the lobby was still humming with life, businessmen in suits checking in with black rolling suitcases, women in evening gowns and diamonds laughing from barstools in the restaurant.

The panic that had been toying with her all night returned in a rush as they made their way toward the elevators. She slowed her pace, unable to face what came next.

I shouldn’t do this. I can’t do this…

Brit stopped. He scrutinized her face, then pulled her into a sheltered alcove. He touched her hand to his lips, breathing gently on it. “Tori, I think you know how I want this evening to end. But if you’d rather I went home now, say so. I won’t push you into anything you don’t want to do.”

“I…I…” She stumbled over the words. Perhaps other, more sophisticated women would know how to act right now, but the truth was, she didn’t know the first thing about one-night stands. Especially with men like Brit.

Lord, I can’t even get a fling right.

“Tori?”

Damn it!

She tipped her face toward his and heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, Brit, but I think you should go.”

He paused, and in that moment Tori hated herself. She hated her fear, her inability to relax with a beautiful man, and most of all, she hated her total, utter commitment to her job.

“Because of the deal?”

She nodded. “That. And…I can’t.” She shook her head, wishing she could die, right then and there, and never have to look him in the eye again. “Maybe another time.”

Brit touched his hands to her waist. With a smooth, practiced motion, he tugged her closer, until she pressed against the length of him. He barely paused before capturing her mouth, claiming her with a kiss that reached all the way to her toes. When she had been turned from a firm, resolute woman to a helpless creature of need, he pulled back and grinned.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Tori sucked in a breath. Dear God, did he
mean
it? The barest hint of an answering smile touched the corner of her mouth.

He placed one final butterfly kiss on the tip of her nose. “Until we meet again.”

Then he turned and walked away.