Dante's Temporary Fiancée

He needed it to stop…and soon.

Before he could decide, Larkin stood. “Mr. Dante, you seem hesitant.” She offered an easy smile. “Why don’t I make it easy for you? I really appreciate your concern, but this isn’t the first time money’s been tight. I’m sort of like a cat. One way or another, I always land on my feet.”

“Sit down, Larkin.” He softened the demand with a smile. “My hesitation isn’t whether or not I have a job available for you. It’s which job to offer.”

She blinked at that. “Oh. Well…I can handle most general office positions, if that helps. Receptionist. File clerk. Secretary or assistant.”

“What about the position of my fiancée?” He folded his arms across his chest and lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think you could handle that?”

Two

For a split second Larkin couldn’t breathe. It was as though every thought and emotion winked off.

“Excuse me?” she finally said.

“Yeah, I know.” He thrust his hand through his hair, turning order into disorder. For some reason, it only added to his overall appeal. Before, he’d seemed a bit too perfect and remote. Now he looked wholly masculine, strong and authoritative with a disturbing edginess that most women found irresistible. “It sounds crazy. But actually it’s fairly simple and straightforward.”

Larkin didn’t bother to argue. Nothing about this man was the least simple or straightforward. Not the fact that he was a rich and powerful man. Not his connection to one of San Francisco’s leading families, the Dantes. Not his stunning good looks or the intense passion he kept so carefully hidden from those around him. How did the scandal sheets refer to him? Oh, right. The lone wolf who was also, ironically, the “prettiest” of the male Dantes.

True on both counts.

To her eternal regret, it was also true that he was still so madly in love with his late wife that he never wanted to marry again. Too bad he’d married a woman who, while as beautiful to look at as the man pacing in front of her, possessed a single imperative—to take and use whatever she wanted in life, regardless of the cost or harm it might do to others.

“I overheard you, you know,” she warned. “I heard you tell your brother you never wanted to marry again. Not after Leigh.”

“Leigh was my late wife,” he explained. “And you’re right. I don’t ever want to marry again. But I do need a fiancée. A temporary fiancée.”

She wasn’t usually so slow on the uptake. Even so, none of this made the least bit of sense to her. “Temporary,” she repeated.

He took the chair across from her and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. Having him so close only made it more difficult to think straight. She didn’t understand it. Of all the men in San Francisco, he should have been the very last she’d find attractive. And yet, every one of her senses had gone screaming onto high alert the instant he’d turned those brilliant jade-green eyes in her direction.

“You’d have to understand my family to fully appreciate my situation,” he said.

Larkin fought to keep her mouth shut. How many times had she gotten herself into an awkward predicament because of her particular brand of frankness? More times than she could count. Despite her determination, a few stray words slipped out. “Your family does have a knack for hitting the gossip magazines.”

To her surprise, he looked relieved. “Then you’ve read about The Inferno?”

“Yes.” Excellent. That was short and sweet, and yet truthful. Added bonus…he seemed pleased with her answer.

“Then I don’t have to explain what it is or that my family—most of them, anyway—believe implicitly in its existence.”

Something in his manner and delivery clued her in to his opinion of the matter. “But you don’t?”

A wickedly attractive smile touched his mouth. “Have I shocked you?”

“A little,” Larkin admitted. She couldn’t come up with a tactful way to ask her next question, so she tossed it out, not sure if it would land with all the explosive power of a grenade or turn out to be a dud. “What about your wife?”