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Paperback
First published October 1, 1985
"But it's your kitchen—and it'll be my kitchen—that's my main concern right now. With the amount of money you're paying me, you should be grateful I
understand the priorities. I'll have a tentative list of changes and new equipment you'll have to order on Monday."
"Fine. We'll go to dinner Saturday."
Summer paused at the door, turned and shook her head. "No."
"I'll pick you up at eight."
It was rare that anyone ignored a statement she'd made. Rather than temper, Summer tried the patient tone she remembered from her governess. It was bound to infuriate. "Blake, I said no."
If he was infuriated, he concealed it well. Blake merely smiled at her—as one might smile at a fussy child. Two, it seemed, could play the same game with equal skill. "Eight," he repeated and sat on the corner of his desk. "We can even have tacos if you like."
"You're very stubborn."
"Yes, I am."
"So am I."
"Yes, you are. I'll see you Saturday."
"I understand you." Blake linked his fingers with hers. "I've been making a study of you almost from the first instant we met."
The way he said it had her pulse fluctuating. "I'm not an easy person to understand."
"No?"
"I don't always understand."
"Let me tell you about Summer Lyndon, then." He measured her hand against his before he linked their fingers. "She's a beautiful woman, a bit spoiled from her upbringing and her own success." He smiled when her brows drew together. "She's strong and opinionated and intensely feminine without being calculating. She's ambitious and dedicated with a skill for concentration that reminded me once of a surgeon. And she's romantic, though she'll claim otherwise."
"My greatest fear has always been to make a mistake."
"Perhaps your greatest fear is your greatest mistake."