CHAPTER ONE

"GIRLFRIEND, this is not your thing," Lance said as he passed over three napkins, then clucked his tongue.

"Tell me about it," Kerri Sullivan muttered. There was liquid everywhere and a lot of it had come from a very expensive bottle of eighteen-year-old Scotch.

Balancing three drinks on a small tray should be easy, she told herself as she took a deep breath and carefully lifted the tray. The trick was to not think about what she was doing. Or somehow do it better, she added as the tray dipped a little.

This was her third lunch shift at The Grill—an upscale lunch and dinner place in the financial district of Seattle. The decor was simple but elegant, the food totally recognizable. The Grill was the kind of restaurant that catered to the successful executive dining with his associates or an important client.

She was already on probation from an unfortunate incident the previous day. It had involved crab cakes, a large leather handbag jutting out into the walkway and an oil-based sauce landing smack on a shantung-silk jacket.

"At least I can do hair," Kerri reminded herself as she delivered the drinks and took the men's orders. Give her some foil and bleach and she could make anyone look like a movie star. But serving food seemed to be a challenge she couldn't meet.

She'd gotten the job at The Grill by lying about her experience. Her glowing letters of recommendation had been printed out on her home computer.

Lance, a waiter here and in on her plot from the beginning, had saved her butt three times already. If she could just hang on until Nathan King showed up to claim his usual table, she could quit before she got fired. That was why she was here—to confront Mr. King and convince him to help her.

She had her speech prepared. Even more important, she had a DVD with a copy of a program from the Discovery Health channel she planned to flash at him. The small, portable DVD player was stuck down the front of her pants, the oddly shaped bulge hidden by her white apron.

For about the four hundredth time, she glanced toward the table in the corner. It had remained annoyingly empty. But this time when she looked, she saw activity. There were fresh flowers, a wine list and a bread basket.

She raced off to find Lance.

"His table's ready," she murmured as she pulled her tall, model-esque friend into a corner. "That means he's here, right?"

Lance sighed heavily. He was pretty enough to be on a billboard and funny enough to make her want to have dinner with him. Just for the company, of course—Lance wasn't into women and she wasn't into relationships.

"He's here," Lance confirmed. "You're going to get fired, you know that, right?"

"That's okay. So we have a plan. I'll take their drink orders, then show Nathan King the DVD. We'll talk, he'll be charming and agree and all will be well. If it goes badly—" She glanced upward and offered a brief prayer that it not go badly…it couldn't. There were no other plans after this one.

She sucked in a breath. "If it goes badly, you come running over and yell at me to get away from your table. Then you complain loudly to the manager that I presumed to take over your station. I'll slip out during the confusion."

"With the DVD player."

"Right." Because she had to return that puppy later. It was expensive and she was, as always, short on money.

"This isn't going to work," Lance told her.

"It has to work. I'll make it work." She would, too. By sheer force of will, she could move mountains.

She glanced back at the table and saw four men being seated. Based on her Internet research, she could easily pick out Nathan King. Tall, dark and rich, she thought grimly. A nice combination that made him extremely popular with women of all ages. If only her motives were that simple.

She waited until the men had settled down and were chatting before approaching. Random facts flashed through her mind. Nathan King, age thirty-eight. He'd come from a working-class family and had earned his money the hard way. He was divorced. He had a reputation for being so cold, he froze out the competition.

He'd also lost his son to Gilliar's Disease six years ago. Of all the billionaires in all the world, she'd chosen him specifically for that reason.

"Gentlemen," she said when she reached the table, giving her best smile and flipping her long, layered blond hair. Normally, she wore it pulled back. But for these purposes, she'd curled, teased and sprayed it until she looked just trashy enough to be sexy. With more makeup than usual and a push-up bra doing its best with what she had, she hoped to get Nathan's attention long enough to make him listen. "What can I get for you?"

Two of the men exchanged glances, then looked back at her.

She knew exactly what they were thinking and silently told them, no, she wasn't on the menu. She wasn't here for them.

She looked directly at Nathan King and was instantly chilled by the lack of emotion in his dark eyes. Somewhere she'd read that he'd been described as the kind of man who made sharks nervous. She got the analogy as a shiver tiptoed down her spine.

He was as good-looking as his pictures had promised. Maybe more so, but none of that mattered when the man in question appeared to be lacking a soul.

Copyright © 2008 by Susan Macias Redmond.