If he thought the offer would rattle her, he clearly hadn’t been paying attention. One-night stands didn’t faze her, and she wasn’t shy about saying yes to sex. “Tell you what. Tell me about that phone call I overheard last night. And if it turns out to be less titillating than the idea of you outperforming my vibrator, then I’ll take you up on your offer.”
“Bonsoir,” a sharply dressed waiter in a bowtie said, appearing at the edge of their table as if he’d materialized from a puff of bergamot-scented mist. “May I take your drink order?”
His gaze slid between them, eyes narrowing at the tension. “Or shall I give you a…moment?”
“Is champagne okay with the lady?” Marcus asked, gaze locked on Frankie.
She nodded, then looked at the waiter. “Make it one that pairs well with poor decisions.”
With a slight bow, the waiter vanished.
Marcus didn’t look away. That stare wasn’t just heated. It was deliberate. Focused.
For one breathless moment, neither said a word. The challenge she’d issued lingered like last season’s scandal on this season’s runway.
“As much as I want to say yes,” he said finally. “I’m going to have to decline.”
“Really?” She blinked. Since when did a man say no to possible sex?
“When we have sex…and we will…it won’t be because you lost a bet. It’ll be because you finally admit youwant to find out if I’ve got the cock to back up my cocky.”
Her pulse stuttered. “Whatever,” she said weakly, just as the waiter returned, gliding in with a silver ice bucket.
“Votrechampagne.” He flipped goblets and poured with flair. “Are you ready to order?”
“The filet,” Marcus said smoothly. “Rare.”
“I’ll have the salmon,” Frankie added. “And if the chef’s in a mood, tell him to take it out on someone else’s entrée.”
The waiter bowed, expression unreadable, though she could’ve sworn his mouth twitched. Then he vanished, leaving behind a table crackling with heat.
“Where were we again in the negotiations?” Marcus asked.
“I believe we were at a standoff.”
They both picked up their glasses and took a sip. A silent, slow détente.
Marcus set down his goblet. “I’ll tell you about the conversation you overheard…if you tell me what really brought you to Gi Gi’s Crossing.”
“What makes you think there’s more than I told the town?”
He cocked his head. “Call it male intuition.”
“I don’t think that’s a thing.”
“Do you want my secret or not?”
“Fine. I’ll tell you my truth if you tell me yours.”
He blinked as if he hadn’texpected her to agree.
She was halfway to telling him to forget it when he finally spoke.
“I have four brothers. We were adopted when the oldest of us was only nine. I was eight. Our adoptive mother died recently.”
Frankie reached across the table and laid her hand atop his. “I’m sorry.”
A smile touched his lips. “In her will, she left each of us an envelope. Inside were…assignments. Tasks tied to the town. In mine, she asked me to move there and restore the manor.”
