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"Everyone is welcome," Dexter says. "Maddie, I'm positive you'd look smashing in a thong bikini."
While Dexter keeps flirting shamelessly, and I keep replying with sassy comebacks, Richard watches me. His lips curl up at the corners. He tips his head to the side just a touch, and faint lines fan out from his eyes.
I've got two men under my spell. Who knew I could do that?
Chapter Twelve
Richard
Sir Dexter Armstrong-Hill is nothing like I expected. Based on our phone conversations, I suppose I should've guessed. But somehow, I'd expected to meet a doddering old man who walks with a cane and talks about how much his arse itches. I loved his books when I was at university but meeting the man has proved…confusing. I have no idea what sort of story he might write these days but signing him could save my company from what Danisha Davies has done to it.
Maddie laughs at something Dexter said. Her eyes sparkle, and her face lights up.
She has a surprising talent for handling Dexter. He makes suggestive remarks, and she blithely replies, not giving a toss if she's insulting him. Most surprising of all, he doesn't take offense. Not ever. Even when she suggests that his "equipment" might be "a little rusty" and then asks if he can still "rev that engine these days," he just laughs and calls her "pet" again.
What an amazing woman she is.
Dinner arrives, and Maddie and I both tell Dexter how wonderful the food is. It seems like restaurant quality. We share a bottle of red wine too, while Dexter and Maddie exchange more banter. I should probably interject myself into the conversation to gently steer it toward business, but I love watching Maddie spar with the man who lives like a recluse but acts like a game-show host.
The more I listen to them, the more I like them both. I'd already become fond of Maddie, but I'm starting to appreciate Dexter's sense of humor too. He's made wooing him, in the business sense, a difficult and frustrating process. But here in his home, he's very personable, even charming.
Once dessert is served, Maddie surprises me yet again by bringing up the topic I've avoided throughout dinner. "Dex, you really should listen to Rick's offer. I'm sure he'll make you a great deal. He's very smart and business savvy, and also very ethical and upfront."
Dexter raises his brows at me. "Are you all of that, Rick?"
He emphasizes my name, probably because I've never told him he could call me Rick. I've always introduced myself as Richard.
"Yes, he is," Maddie says. "That and much more. He won't schmooze you into signing a crummy deal, then turn around and stab you in the back. Richard Hunter is a good man."
And she knows this after less than two days with me? I suspect she's the one schmoozing Dexter, but I appreciate her efforts to help me.
Dexter wags his eyebrows. "All right, Rick. You've got one hour to convince me. Let's take our dessert into the sitting room and enjoy a good cognac to go along with it. Then you can tell me all about what your company can do for me."
He pushes his chair back and stands.
I get up too. "I hope you'll also share with me what your new book will be about."
"Oh, you'll love the story," he says. "It's crackerjack."
We troop across the hall into the sitting room, a cozy space with padded leather chairs, a small sofa, and a fireplace. It's summer, in the Caribbean, and he has a fire flickering in the hearth. I study the flames and realize why they look odd.
"Is that an electric fireplace?" I ask. "It doesn't seem to be giving off any heat, though."
"Of course not," Dexter says like I'm a fool. "It's too hot here in the tropics for a fire. It's there to look pretty."
"The flames are very realistic. About your new book—"
"Dessert first, then business." Dexter smiles. "Dessert and cognac, that is."
He drank enough wine at dinner to make most people tipsy, but he doesn't act like he's overindulged. Maddie consumed less wine than he did, but I'm the teetotaler in the group. I had one glass, no more. Getting pissed when I'm here to negotiate a publishing deal doesn't seem wise, though I have a feeling Dexter wouldn't care. I could strip naked and jump on the coffee table to dance a jig, and our host would probably cheer me on.
Maddie is laughing at something Dexter said. They both look at me with curious expressions.
"Sorry," I tell them. "My mind wandered. What did you say, Dexter?"
"Call me Dex. We're friends now, after all. Any man who brings a luscious woman like Maddie to my home has earned my friendship."
But that friendship doesn't extend to talking about his new book, which is the entire reason I came to the Caribbean. He insisted on it. "In-person negotiations only," he'd said.
