Read Online Trust Me by Jayne Ann Krentz - Free Book Online Page A

you say?”
    Stark was pleased with the analogy. “Exactly. All the convenience, none of the hassle.”
    “And none of the fun?”
    “I wouldn’t know about that part.” Stark took a swallow of wine from his glass. “I’ve never managed to get myself married.”
    “You don’t know what you’re missing.” Dane cast a speculative glance at Desdemona, who was busy on the other side of the room. “Then again, maybe you aren’t missing a damn thing. Maybe you’ve got it all.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    Dane shrugged. “You’re a smart man. Everyone knows that. A smart man can get just about anything these days without having to pay full price.”
    Stark followed Dane’s gaze to where Desdemona stood talking to an earnest-looking corporate manager who worked for an Eastside firm. Nervous about his own abysmal social skills, Stark had asked her to act as hostess and mingle with the guests when necessary. She had been subtle about it, but Stark had noticed that no one in the room had been left on his or her own for long.
    He watched her as she guided the manager to a small group and introduced him. Then, with a vivacious smile, she moved across the room to round up another stray.
    Her smile made Stark’s insides twist with excitement. It was not the first time.
    Desdemona was wearing a sleek little black dress that skimmed her body in interesting places but somehow managed to appear modest. Her red curls were restrained with a black velvet ribbon. Several fiery ringlets had escaped to dance around her small, nicely shaped ears. Her jewelry consisted solely of a pair of sparkling earrings. She managed to look simultaneously cool and hot. Touchable and yet untouched.
    Stark recognized the tight, clenching sensation that seized his lower body. It was pure, unadulterated arousal. Along with it came a primitive possessiveness. The feeling hit him when he realized Dane was staring at Desdemona just as attentively as he was. Dane’s blatant interest in Desdemona stirred the hair on the back of his neck.
    “Go find your own caterer,” Stark said.
    Dane gave him a knowing grin. “Like that, is it?”
    Stark did not reply. The question had been simmering inside him for the past two weeks. Longer than that, if he was truthful. He had not been able to put Desdemona completely out of his mind since the night of his botched wedding.
    He had known things were serious when he had realized that thoughts of her were interfering with his concentration. Under normal circumstances, nothing ever interfered with his concentration.
    Stark gazed thoughtfully at Desdemona, wondering if he had misread the warmth in her eyes. He knew he was not very good at interpreting the various subtle sexual cues that women used. Nevertheless, he could have sworn that she was as interested in him as he was in her.
    “Not to change the subject,” Dane murmured, “but have you heard from Pamela yet?”
    “Who?”

    Three hours later Desdemona saw her two assistants out Stark’s kitchen door. Henry went first with a load of glassware.
    Vernon Tate, the new ice sculptor and all-around gofer, paused on the back step. He gave Desdemona a diffident smile. Everything Vernon did was diffident and unassuming, she reflected. In temperament, he was the exact opposite of Rafael. Desdemona found him a pleasant change of pace.
    “I think that’s everything, Miss Wainwright,” Vernon said. “I double-checked the kitchen. Henry took care of the living room. Will you be needing anything else tonight?”
    “No, we’re through for the evening,” Desdemona said. “You and Henry take the van back to Right Touch and unload. I’ll follow you in my own car.”
    “Okay.” Vernon tightened his grip on the carton of plates that he was holding. “It went well, don’t you think? I mean, everyone seemed to have a good time.”
    “Everything went beautifully.” Desdemona gave him a grateful smile. “I don’t know what we would have done without