The question lingered between me and her like smoke from my father's cigars – weighty, intoxicating, and impossible to ignore. Katherine Blaire was seated across from me, her whiskey glass shaking a little in her hand, and I couldn't help wondering about her response.
She was nothing like I'd anticipated at all.
When Sarah explained that a banker from Premier Financial wanted a meeting with me, I'd assumed the typical kind, some middle-aged guy in a high-priced suit who'd be happy to kiss my ass and ask no questions about the source of my money. I received instead this voluptuous goddess who possessed intelligent brown eyes with enough spine to barge into my world uninvited.
"Mr. Marvin," she said, and I could tell that she aligned her shoulders when she was getting a grip on things. "You will be getting the city's best financial services from me, and that's what I aim for."
"Is it?" I spun the scotch in my glass, studying her face by the dim light. "Because I think you'd like a good deal more than that."
Her cheeks went pink, and she plucked at the collar of her dress – a nervous habit that made me notice the voluptuous curve of her breasts. Katherine Blaire was a generous woman, from her full lips to her hourglass body, and I was having trouble concentrating on business.
"I'm known for being direct," I went on, putting down my glass. "So I'm going to be blunt about what I'm offering you."
She leaned over, all business-like, and I caught another whiff of her perfume – something delicate and floral that made me feel as if I wanted to lean in too.
"I will give you my account. Fifty million at the beginning, with potential for much more as my businesses expand."
Her eyes opened wide. "That's... that's very generous."
"I'm not done." I paused again, allowing the tension to build. "But there's a condition."
The wariness that swept across her face was almost humorous. Smart woman, she knew there was always a catch with men like me.
"What kind of condition?"
I rose from my seat and moved toward the window that looked out over the ground floor of the club. Below us, bodies swayed to the rhythm of music and money, an old rhythm that preceded civilization itself. Desire, power, exchange – it all came down to basic principles.
"You need something from me, Katherine. Something of value, in my world, valuable things aren't handed out for free."
"I'm offering you high-end financial services-"
"You're giving me what several other banks have given." I turn around to face her again, and something in my chest contracted at the belligerent lift of her chin. "What do you offer that's any different?"
"My credentials speak for themselves. I've handled portfolios of hundreds of millions-"
"That's not what I'm asking." I moved back toward the booth, drifting closer to her this time. Close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in those brown eyes, close enough that I could hear the slight hitch in the way she was breathing. "What's *special* about you?"
She began to open her mouth to answer, then closed it. For an instant, vulnerability crossed her face before she covered it up with professional composure.
"I don't understand the question."
But she did understand. I could tell by the way that her pulse skipped at her throat, by the way that she instinctively moistened her lips. Katherine Blaire completely knew precisely what I was asking for, and that she was pretending otherwise only made her that much more intriguing.
"Then let me make it easy," I said in a low, steady voice. "I give you that contract you're looking for, and in return, I want you for one night."
The words hit her like a blow. She first went pale, then flushed, which I assumed was due to embarrassment. But when she did speak, her voice was steady as steel.
"Excuse me."
"One night. No strings attached, no expectations other than that. Give me one night, you've got your fifty-million-dollar account."
I'd made the same offers previously to those who'd sought something from me – modeling contracts for a guy's sister-in-law, parts in films that I produced, and an introduction to the appropriate individuals, and they'd always accept. Power was the greatest aphrodisiac of them all, and money made everything a matter of negotiation.
But Katherine Blaire looked at me like I had just offered that she kill someone.
"You're offering me a proposition," she said, her voice deadly quiet. "I am not a hooker."
"I'm offering you a business transaction with mutual benefits."
"Mutual?" She could laugh no longer, but there was no humor. "You get sex, and I get to compromise, violating all of my principles. How's that mutual?"
Things weren't going at all as I'd expected them. Where was the subtle negotiating, the pretended hesitation that she needed time to think about it? Where was the prearranged consent disguised as a reluctant sacrifice?
"You need this account," I continued. "More than you'd care to admit, I'd guess. One doesn't step into my club on a Wednesday evening unless they're desperate."
Something flickered in her eyes – hurt, perhaps, or fear – but it had disappeared almost at once, as it may have been my imagination.
"Mr. Marvin," she declared, standing quickly. "There's been a misunderstanding. I'm a professional banker, not a call girl. If you're not interested in legitimate financial services, then there's nothing we have to discuss further."
She turned on her heel to leave, and by that I mean I felt downright surprised. No woman ever rose from a heel and left me. Let alone from fifty million dollars.
"Katherine"
She paused but did not turn around.
"Nobody's ever said no to me before."
She froze. "Then I guess there's lots of firsts for both of us tonight."
She started walking again, and I stood up from my chair, my gaze tracing the swing of her hips as she headed towards the elevator. All of my instincts were yelling at me to leave her alone. She was obviously too principled for the kind of arrangement I was used to, and I had more immediate business to worry about than one stubborn banker.
But I realized something when the elevator doors closed behind her that I was more upset about than I actually was.
I wanted to see her again.
Not because she might be helpful to me, not because she provided something that I lacked and couldn't buy, but because Katherine Blaire had done something that no one else had managed to do in my thirty years of life.
She'd surprised me. And that made her the most dangerous woman I'd ever met.