“Wine?” Anthony asks and gives me a bone-melting smile. At my nod he tips the bottle and Merlot spills out, filling the full-bodied glass in front of me. He pours a glass for himself, picks the glass up, and sips.

I shift a little and cross my legs, the silk parting to my thigh with a rasp. Anthony doesn’t even glance; his eyes stay focused on my face. A smirk tries to break through the smile I’ve put on, but I sip at the wine to hold it back.

“Good?” He leans back in his chair, looking for all the world a king in his palace. Counterpoint, I lean forward and try to look sultry while hoping my breasts don’t fall out of my dress. Not even a look from him.

I’m not usually so sluttish. But tonight, I’m out to prove a point! So I go and put on my sexiest dress, hoping that I’m right. So far, I am. Anthony merely gave me a calculating once-over when he first opened the door. His gaze has not strayed past my neck since then. Either he’s a gentlemen with some great self-control…or he’s gay. I’m betting on the latter.

I grab my hair and pull it over one bare shoulder. Having good-looking hair is hard. Having long, good-looking hair is even worse. I nod as I bring the glass up to my lips. “Of course.”

I drag my eyes along his form. Damn, but does he look good. Great body, fashionable clothes, gorgeous face…I would so sleep with him if he so obviously didn’t have a thing for my brother.

I take a stab at trying to sound seductive. “So…what now?” I force a smirk on my face in an attempt to fight the giggles attacking my throat.

Slowly, both of his eyebrows go up. “Are you propositioning me?”

I look at him from underneath my heavily mascara-ed eyelashes. Another first try: this time, a smoky laugh. It ends up sounding more like a smoker’s cough than anything. “Only if you want to take it that way.” I try to quirk an eyebrow and smirk at the same time. I’m pretty sure it’s a big fat failure.

He gives me another bone-melting smile that sends a sort of instinctive, primal shiver up my spine. Yum.

“I don’t usually sleep with a woman on the first date,” he murmurs. His eyes stay locked on me.

I push a pout onto my lips, but on the inside, I’m cheering.

I’m not stupid. (I can’t be, not being the legal counsel to one of the most powerful corporations in America.) I had done my research before going through with this. Mr. Anthony Powers never goes on a second date. In the four years he has been CEO, he has been on plenty of first dates. There have never been any second dates though.

I push my suddenly heavy hair off my shoulders. Nope. Still not a glance. Fine then.

I straighten and drag one finger along the rim of the wineglass. I try to push my pout out a little further. And although it’s hard, I force a slight whine in my voice. “But you never go on second dates.”

His eyebrows go up again and his smile thins a little and gains an edge. “What makes you say that?”

I tap one painted nail along the wineglass and a real smile comes to my face. “I never do anything without researching it beforehand.” Lower my eyes a little and then drag them back up. “I’ve learned that you never go on second dates.” Unless you count the ones with various males at Boystown on the north side. But I have to save that piece of information.

He shifts a little in his chair and tilts his glass so the wine swirls lazily. His gaze is inquisitive, eyes lingering on the dark red of his wine, brows lowered and pushed together. “What else do you know about me?” One side of his smile quirks a little higher.

I can’t help the smile curling on my face. “Oh…” My gaze trails away from him and lands on a large, rather abstract painting. Hm, look at the pretty colors. “Tons of stuff.” Wow, I’m surprised he’s not freaking out. I’m sounding a bit like some sort of creepy stalker.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him leaning forward. “Like what?” His voice is teasing now.

Like how you’re so into my brother. Like how ever since my brother started bringing lunch to work for me, you’ve started eating lunch at work. Like how since you’ve met Clark, you’ve lessened your visits to Boystown. Like how you got all jealous and weird when you saw a picture of Clark and his good friend Kevin on my desk. Like how you freaked when Clark didn’t show up for a week and were relieved when you found out he was just home with the flu. Like how you walk him back to the deli (and like how the both of you try to take as long as possible sine it doesn’t matter when either of you get back to work since you’re the CEO and he’s the owner). Like how you put all your moves on him, and those are earnest unlike the calculated ones you put on your girl of the month. See? I know tons of stuff.

I smile pleasantly at him and lean forward so I’m close to him. “I know that you don’t really want me here.” My voice is quiet.

His smile is slow and one hand comes up to push away the hair that has fallen over my shoulder. “Why would you say that? You’re positively exquisite, Claire.”

Aw, how sweet. “Still. You don’t want me here because you want Clark here.”

To his credit, he doesn’t freeze up, he doesn’t make any strange faces, he doesn’t turn any funny colors… His smile just widens a touch and his eyes crinkle a little. His jaw is tense though, as if he’s grinding his teeth. “You’re joking, right? I’m not gay.”

I snort, totally shattering the seductress act I had going, and fall back into the seat. A quick swig of wine instead of those delicate sips I had been taking. He looks baffled, but there’s something off about his eyes. “Honey, I’ve spent my whole life around lawyers. You can’t fool me.”

“I’m not fooling you. I’m telling the truth,” he protests, that you’re-kidding-right-? smile still on his face. I just slant him a look. His smile breaks as he rolls his eyes and goes, “Why would I go out with women if I’m gay then?”

OH, that’s such a stupid question. I wave a hand at him. “A cover-up, obviously. The Board would have a fit if you were not the epitome of a rich, white male.” An almost elegant shrug from me. “And that would make getting anything done a lot harder.” A pause. “Plus it would ruin the reputation you’ve worked so hard to build.” I bat my eyelashes at him. “And we both know you don’t want to do that,” in a little, coo-y voice.

He’s the one giving the dirty looks as I start to laugh. His whole face is stern now. Controlling!CEO-face!

I snicker as he goes, “And even if I were gay, why would I want your brother?”

My laughter stops as I glare at him. I can control my temper. Part of the package of being a legal attorney. But still. Screw this. “Stop acting so damn stupid! You’re obviously infatuated with him! I’m trying to help you here so stop being uncooperative!”

His expression relaxes and becomes neutral. “So…the reason you accepted this date…was because you…want to get me and your brother together?” Then his look changes into something I’ve never seen on his face before: blatant confusion. “Why?”

So now he’s accepting what I already know. Took him long enough. “You want him. He wants you. And since you’re both ridiculously male, someone had to step in and get things rolling.” I flash him a winning smile.

The confusion on his face slowly melts away. Then he starts to laugh. Finally. He sees my side of it.

He looks at me and…wow. The grin on his face is just amazing. I’m actually shocked into speechlessness for a moment. Mmmm.

He starts with, “So he…,” trails off and then points to himself.

I nod.

The smile shifts a little and becomes the bone-melting smile from earlier…only now it has a sharp, predatory edge to it. Then it vanishes, the regular smile back, and he’s looking at me. “Claire, I owe you big time, but I have some planning I need to do.”

I move from the seat and head towards the door, snatching up my purse on the way. “It’s been swell, Anthony,” I drawl.

He smiles and murmurs his thanks and goodbyes, mind already delving into ideas.

Two days later, both Clark and Anthony mysteriously go missing during lunch. I have to go and snag a candy bar from the vending machine so I don’t go hungry. Anthony is gone the rest of the day. Whispers start up. Rumors from hospital visits to dead family members to some mysterious ladylove abound.

The next day, Clark drops off my lunch. He turns a bright cherry-red when he sees Anthony. He leans towards me, babbles something about how I own his soul now, pulls me into a quick, bone-crushing hug, and then takes off.

Anthony walks out of his office and meets with Clark halfway to the elevator. They stand closer than usual. Smiles are bright on both faces. There’s no tension to Anthony’s shoulders and Clark’s smile is easy. They look happier than I’ve seen them in a long time.

…My work here is done.