She swallowed hard. “Fine.”

“I need to know you believe me, Raven.”

She did. And though she was tempted to lie, she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair. “I believe you.”

His muscles relaxed. “Good. Why do you need such an extensive job done so quickly?”

“Good Food and Fine Spirits magazine wants to do a feature article on My Place. I need it ready for the photographers.”

A genuine smile curved his lips. “That’s wonderful news; congratulations. You’ve really done amazing things here in such a short time.”

Raven smiled back. She loved talking about her business. “This could lift the restaurant to the next level. But I’ve been neglecting the cosmetics until I had the guts solid.”

Dalton nodded. “Makes sense. Your menu and cocktails are stellar, and your staff is amazing. You did the right thing waiting. I know how much money a new business sucks out.”

She sighed and glanced at the mighty bar that sagged with age. “Yes, but it’s time. The investment will be worth it. Can it be completed within the time period?”

He scrunched up his face in thought. “It’s tight but doable. I’d have to delay another job, but I don’t think that will be a problem. How many stools?”

“A dozen. I’m open to ideas.”

He walked over, studying the motley scarred stools lining the bar. Then ran his hand gently over the surface, caressing the cheap gold rails with the lightest touch. Shivers raced down her spine as she imagined that hand on her body, on her naked skin. His fingers would be the slightest bit rough, but skillful. Would he be able to play her body as deftly as he stroked a piece of wood to glory? “I think I know what will work. I have a variety of samples to show you, and I’ll sketch out my ideas tonight. I can come by again tomorrow, around closing.”

He drew his hand away and she let out a relieved breath. Already her skin felt hot and stretched over her bones way too tight. She took a step back for more air. “Good.”

“I’ll also have a schedule, but you’ll need to close the place for a while.”

“How long?”

“A week to do the main parts of the job. The rest I can finish off-site.”

“Okay. I’ll take care of it.”

“Good.” A short silence fell between them, pulsing with crackling energy. “How many places did you try before settling on Pierce Brothers?”

She jerked back. How did he know? His shrewd gaze told her his bluff had worked perfectly. Damn. “A few.”

He stalked her, closing in on her precious distance and taking up her air. “Why?”

Because your family destroyed mine. Because your presence makes me feel like I’m betraying my father.

“I thought it would be easier.”

The words were the truth. He seemed to accept her response, nodding slowly, his gaze shredding her barriers and probing too deep for comfort. “Yes, I can see why,” he murmured. “I can take the job, Raven. I’ll make your bar so damn beautiful everyone who sees it will compare every other one out there to it.” His poetic words tugged at her soul, but she fought back. “You just have to do one thing for me.”

“What?”

“Ask me nicely.”

She stared at him. He made no move toward her. Still, his aura wrapped tight around her with pure demand. The knowledge of what he wanted to take from her might seem ridiculous to someone else. After all, it was a simple admission.

But to her, it was so much more.

He was forcing her to ask for something she wanted. Something only he could give her. The demand bristled with connotations and a seething intensity that stole her breath. Long moments passed. He kept still, waiting for her to take the first tiny step in surrender.

Bastard.

“Why?”

He smiled. “You know why,” he said softly.

Her fists clenched. She fought the mental battle as fiercely as she did the physical. Oh, she wanted to walk away from it all and tell him to go to hell. Him and his massive ego and talent and complications. She didn’t want him in her bar or her life, but she was trapped. To get what she really wanted for her business, she needed him—the very devil she’d hated since she buried her father.

When she took the fall, she refused to do it halfway. Throwing her head back, she straightened to full height and faced him. The few inches between them crackled with tension. Her voice seethed with resentment and the surrender he required.

“Will you take the job, Dalton?”

For one moment, something transformed between them. As if caught in a raging undertow, she drowned in a tsunami of pure emotion, tangled with lust and hate, need and desire, want and desperation. His eyes widened in acknowledgment, and he took a tiny step back, as if battered by his own wave.

In seconds, the room was once again calm, and Raven wondered if she had imagined the whole thing.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll take the job, Raven. I’ll also make sure you don’t regret it.” He turned and walked to the door. “See you tomorrow.”

Raven closed her eyes and wondered if she’d just played a very dangerous game with fate.

chapter seven

Dalton showed up right before closing.

All day, he’d been anticipating seeing her again. She was never far from his mind, the image of last night replaying again and again. He’d forced her to concede, but it was he who was rocked by the encounter. He’d expected her to get a bit bitchy, or even lie before asking him to take on the job. Dalton admitted it was a power play, and he’d intended to pull back if she got upset.

Instead, she’d refused to back down. She might have been the one asking, but she did it with such power and pride, he’d been the one humbled.

Another intriguing piece to the puzzle. The woman was full of angles and edges that he longed to explore. Being able to work in her presence and get answers to those questions was just another perk of the job. Maybe after this week, he’d be able to figure out why things were so explosive when the two of them were with each other.

He took a seat at one of the tables, laying out his sketches and plans. Her voice echoed from the kitchen, along with the sound of laughing, chatter, and good-natured ribbing. Finally three females and a man built like a truck trudged out. The girls gave him a friendly wave of acknowledgment, but the man shot him a warning look. With his shaved head and staggering muscles, he looked . . . mean. Who the hell was that? The cook? Raven couldn’t be involved with him, right? She’d said there was no one in her life at the moment, but damned if that guy wasn’t trying to tell Dalton to back off.