“Deal,” she said and slid her hand against his.

The heat that flared, along with the sparks arcing up her arm, nearly made her laugh. Okay, one problem solved, but the issue of the wayward hormones needed more work.

She pulled her hand free and reached for her briefcase. “Ready to talk about the party?”

“Sure. It’ll distract me from the hell of my day.”

“Stressful case?”

“Mediation.” He dropped his hands to his lap. “The couple had been married for over twenty years. The wife stayed home to take care of the kids. He hit his forties and decided he wanted a new-and-improved spouse. Fairly typical.”

Katie wasn’t sure what to do with the information. “Who were you representing?”

“Her. She got a decent settlement. I guess the real question is why she married the guy in the first place.”

“Probably because she loved him.”

Zach looked at her. His dark blue eyes seemed to flash with anger, and there was a cynical twist to his mouth. “I don’t see a whole lot of that in my line of work. In my world, relationships don’t work, and the kids nearly always pay the price for that.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. I’ll step off my soapbox for now.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re obviously concerned about the people you deal with. I think that’s good.”

He smiled. “Katie, I’m a mean, hard-assed, son-of-a-bitch lawyer. I don’t do ‘concerned.’”

He was right-she’d heard he was a tough opponent. Word had it he was smart, ruthless, and never gave away any advantage. Between that and his reputation with the ladies, she’d assumed he was self-absorbed and someone she really wouldn’t like. But he’d surprised her twice in less than five minutes. First with his gracious offer to forget what had happened at the hacienda, and just now with his comments about kids getting caught in their parents’ problems.

Maybe she’d judged him too quickly. Maybe there was a real person under the sharkskin. Maybe she liked him.

“Okay. Enough about the law. I have a very large charity event to plan.” She pulled several folders from her briefcase. “I looked over the notes you gave me and went to see the hotel that had been reserved. Apparently no one had arranged for a contract, so nothing was firm.”

A tickle of nerves swept across her chest, but she ignored it. She was the professional here. Zach had hired her to make the fund-raiser a success. That’s what she intended to do.

“I want to change venues,” she told him. “The original hotel is older, and while the architecture is lovely, the ballroom isn’t very big. With a crowd of over two thousand people to consider, space is important. We need spillover rooms. Also, I thought it would be fun to make the locale more of an integral part of the party, rather than just the background.”

She glanced at Zach to check for some kind of a reaction, but his expression was unreadable. Assuming silence meant agreement, she passed him a brochure.

“The West Side Royale Hotel?” he asked. “It’s new, right?”

“Refurbished. What I like best about it are the gardens. They start by the ballroom and flow throughout the property. The man in charge is a botanist. He’s done amazing work. A cancellation cleared the weekend we’re interested in. They’ve got a big hole in their schedule, and they’re willing to deal to get it filled. They’re offering a great price to give us the rooms we need.”

Zach flipped through the brochure. The hotel had been done Art Deco style.

“What do you mean rooms?” he asked. “Isn’t there one ballroom?”

Okay, now came the selling part. This is where she proved she was worth what he was paying her. “There can be. That’s more traditional. I’ve pulled articles on different fund-raisers held in Los Angeles. They’ve ranged from funky with organic food and barefoot guests to elegant black-tie. I wanted something different, something special. Something successful. To that end, I’m thinking of a two-tiered system.”

Zach raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“The cost of a ticket is a thousand dollars per couple, right?”

“Yes. The partners set the price.”

“So that can stay the same. The cost of the party is about two hundred dollars a person, leaving a good chunk of money for the charity. But out of the two thousand to twenty five hundred people who will attend, at least three hundred and as many as five hundred are serious players in the charity game. They give away millions of dollars every year. Why not to your charity?”

“We’re not going to invite them to the party and then go begging for additional donations.”

“Agreed. But you could charge them more up front.”

“What?”

She held up a hand. “I’m suggesting that a few hundred special guests receive an invitation to attend the fund-raiser, but that they are invited to a more exclusive party held at the same time. They’ll have the same dinner and the same entertainment, but there will be separate activities both before and after the meal.”

“Such as?”

Katie opened a pale blue folder and unfolded a map of the hotel grounds. She pointed to the main ballroom, and the gardens beyond, then showed a small ballroom flanking the main one.

“I was thinking of games of chance,” she said, “but not gambling. That’s so overdone. More like carnival games, but instead of winning a goldfish at the ring toss, you could win a diamond bracelet worth, say, five grand. We could do ski vacations in Gstaad and balloon trips in France. If we keep the prizes around five to ten thousand a piece and charge the couples twenty-five thousand to participate, we’re still coming out ahead of the thousand-dollars-a-plate donation.”

She couldn’t read his face. He was listening and he hadn’t started screaming. She figured that was all good news.

“Go on,” he said evenly.

“Okay. Well, I thought we’d go with a whole dipping-for-charity theme. The menu would be dipping foods and finger foods. A lot of kabobs, which would mean small grills set up all over. We can do all kinds of exotic meats and fun vegetarian kabobs for those who don’t do the animal-product thing. We can grill bread and have make-your-own appetizers, then do chocolates from around the world in fondue pots for dessert. We’d have entertainment in the ballroom, and then put tents in the gardens. Each tent would be a different food station.”

She stopped talking and surreptitiously crossed her fingers. Yes, it wasn’t the usual kind of party, but Katie figured her best chance of success was to make the event her own rather than trying to do what every other party planner in the city had already done and done well.

Zach tapped the brochure for the West Side Royale Hotel. “We’ve never had a party like that before.”

“I know. Different can be good.”

“I’d have to run it by the partners.”

“Of course.”

He smiled-a slow smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and her heartbeat zip into an aerobic state.

“I like it,” he said.

She nodded briskly, determined not to show her intense relief. “I’m glad. I think it could be fun. At least the larger venue will keep the party from feeling crowded. That seems to be a big problem with mega events.”

He tossed the brochure onto the table and settled back into the sofa. With one ankle resting on the opposite knee, he looked dangerous and masculine…or maybe one went with the other. Could a man look masculine without appearing dangerous?

She found it impossible to stop staring at him, especially when he began loosening his tie. It was only an insignificant length of silk, yet the way his fingers worked the knot, then tugged it free made her thighs go up in flames.

“I’ll present the idea to them in the next day or so and get back to you.”

“Good. The hotel will hold the facilities until the end of the week. As long as I hear by Friday, we’ll have our space.”

“Fair enough.”

She collected her various folders, but left him with the brochure. Their work now concluded, Katie felt she should make her escape as quickly as possible, before she put her foot in it again. Still, one thing continued to bother her.

“I’m more than a little surprised by the coincidence of all this,” she said. “You hiring me to plan this party. Your son getting engaged to my sister. What are the odds of that?”

His relaxed posture didn’t change, but she would have sworn something inside of him shifted. He shrugged.

“Things like that happen.”

Until that moment she’d never thought anything else, but suddenly she wondered if there had been some kind of manipulation behind the scenes.

Don’t be crazy, she told herself. That wasn’t possible…was it?

“So you didn’t hire me on purpose?” she asked, speaking slowly. “You didn’t hire me because Mia is marrying David?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I have no idea,” she said honestly.

“Unless I wanted something from you.”

She stiffened. Every nerve ending went on alert and not in a good way. “What do you mean?”

“My son is my world, Katie. He’s a good kid. But there’s no way in hell he’s ready to get married.”

She blinked several times. “What? Why are you telling me this?”

He pointed toward her stack of folders. “This job represents a lot of money to your company. It would change your life. What would happen if word got out that you weren’t up to the task?”

Her chest tightened. Half-formed sentences flashed through her brain. Nothing made sense. “Are you threatening me?”

“Do I have to?”

Confusion turned to anger. “Let me get this straight. You deliberately hired me because I’m Mia’s sister. Now you’re telling me if I don’t get Mia to somehow back off from marrying your son, you’ll destroy my company?”

“That sounds melodramatic.”

Not to her. “Do I have it wrong?”

“I’m helping you achieve your goal. I expect you to help me achieve mine.”

Outrage joined fury. “Mia loves David. You want me to sacrifice my sister’s happiness because you don’t approve?”

He leaned forward and pinned her with a gaze that could have cut metal. “It’s not about approving. It’s about my son’s future. Do you know the odds of a marriage surviving past five years? Any marriage? They’re less than ten percent of that when the couple is under twenty. If you’re so damn worried about your sister’s happiness, think about how well she’ll survive a divorce.”

“Zach, I-”

“No. This isn’t personal, Katie. I think Mia’s great. But David’s too young to marry anyone.”

“He’s eighteen. Isn’t that his decision to make?”

“Legally, which is why I haven’t delivered an ultimatum.”

Of course. Because being upfront wasn’t his style. Katie gritted her teeth. To think she’d actually felt badly about judging him. She’d bought into his nice-guy act, but he was just as much of a slimy player as she’d first thought. And he was trying to ruin her baby sister’s life. The bastard.

She shoved the folders into her briefcase and snapped it shut. “I appreciate that you’re worried about David. You care about him, just like I care about Mia. But here’s the thing. I won’t go behind my sister’s back. She loves your son and she wants to marry him. That’s good enough for me.”

She rose and glared at him. “If you thought you could force me to do what you want for the price of this job, you were wrong. And if that means you’re going to try ruining me, then have at it. Anyone who would be swayed by your opinion doesn’t matter a damn to me.”

She started for the door. Her high heels and the thick, plush carpet slowed her down, so it wasn’t a surprise when Zach caught up with her. He grabbed her arm, holding her until she stopped and faced him.

“What?” she demanded.

His mouth twisted. “You’re saying you can’t be bought.”

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

He stunned her by grinning. “You’re tougher than you look.”

“Gee, that’s nearly as nice as saying I’m smarter than I look.”

“That, too.”

“You’re a bastard, Zach.”

“Not technically, but maybe in spirit.” He released her and shoved his hands into his slacks pockets. “I had to try, Katie. He’s my son. I love him.”

Two seconds ago she would have sworn there was nothing he could say that would have made her want to do anything but hit him upside the head with a two-by-four. But with six simple words, he knocked the mad right out of her.

“Then tell him you’re worried. Won’t he listen?”

“No. He already knows what I think.” Zach shook his head. “I tried to keep it from him, but I didn’t do much of a job. He’s determined to marry your sister, and I know it’s going to be a disaster.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m never wrong.”

The mad returned. “I’m guessing no one has ever accused you of being humble.”