I put down the bottle of scotch. “What are you talking about?”
“I was pulling some permits last week for Century City and talking with one of my friends in the county clerk’s office. She mentioned that he’d pulled some surveys for the island.”
“Why on earth were you talking to her about Cortez?”
He shrugs. “She assumed it was my project.”
“Last week we hadn’t even offered him the job.”
“That’s my point,” Trent says. “I think your Mr. Steele was playing hard to get. What I’m wondering is why.”
Since I don’t know the answer, I say nothing, and when Trent takes his drink and leaves, I take a moment to just breathe deep. What he was saying made no sense. So what the hell kind of game had Jackson been playing?
When I return to the main area, Aiden has moved on, and Damien and Jackson are talking alone, still looking perfectly civil. I realize then that I still expect to see tension between them, but it’s just not there. Instead, I see two men with more in common than either of them probably realize. If Damien is arrogant, then Jackson is, too, because both possess a single-minded purpose.
There are physical similarities, too. Dark hair. Classic bone structure. Hollywood-handsome good looks.
They are both the kind of men who can bring a woman to her knees, and there is no doubt that as far as I’m concerned, Jackson has done exactly that.
“It’s like looking at the cover of a damn men’s magazine, isn’t it?” Evelyn says, as she takes one of the glasses of scotch from my hand and downs it in a single gulp. “I spoke with your architect earlier. I think he’ll do good. And I’m glad the two of you got over whatever hurdle needed to be leaped.”
“Me, too.” My cheeks heat as I think just how enthusiastically we topped that particular hurdle.
Evelyn laughs, and my blush burns hotter.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “Your secret’s safe with me. But you be careful, too.”
“Careful?”
“Jackson Steele is not a man with a one-woman reputation, and you’ve never struck me as the kind of woman to put up with a player.”
“No, he’s not—” But I stop. The truth is, she’s right about his reputation. And though I asked him about it, I have no way of knowing what really went on with those women.
“Just be careful,” Evelyn repeats. And this time, all I do is nod.
I head to the kitchen to get a replacement for the scotch Evelyn took, and when I return, Nathan Dean has joined the men.
“Sylvia!” he says, giving me an air kiss on both cheeks. “So wonderful to see you again. Now that Damien doesn’t need me anymore, I miss going over the punch lists with you.”
“Always a good time,” I say, and make all three of the men laugh. “What are you working on now?”
“A residence in Brentwood, actually. For Trent Leiter.”
“I didn’t realize,” I say. “That’s great.”
“Aiden gave him my name,” Nathan says. “Which is how I met Damien, actually. I’ve known Aiden for years, and it’s a friendship that’s paid off handsomely.”
“You’ve certainly done an amazing job here,” Jackson says. “This home is stunning.”
“Thanks,” Nathan says. “Of course, Damien is a man with a lot of opinions. Several of the design features originated with him.”
“He’s saying that I’m a nightmare to work with,” Damien says.
“I’m not. I appreciate the feedback. This is one of my most seamless projects.”
“This floor is truly unique,” Jackson says. “A man in your position must do a lot of entertaining.”
“Actually, that was never my plan. Until recently, I rarely entertained in my own home, and I can’t say I was that keen on going out, either.”
“Must be nice when family is over, though.”
I frown, not sure if he’s asking questions with a purpose or just making small talk.
“To be honest, neither of us have large families. I don’t get along particularly well with my father—if you read the gossip magazines that’s hardly breaking news. And Nikki’s family—well, her mother lives in Texas. You could say that as far as family goes, we’re starting fresh.”
An awkward silence hangs for a moment before Jackson speaks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch on a sore spot.”
“Don’t worry,” Damien says. “My father is a lot of things, but not someone I spend any time worrying about.”
In what I assume is an attempt to change the subject, Jackson turns back to Nathan. “I’m guessing you work exclusively on residential projects?”
“Primarily, but not exclusively.” Nathan’s voice is a bit higher than usual, as if he too is trying to push away any bad vibes. “I’ve been doing a bit of networking, trying to expand my presence in the commercial market, but I certainly haven’t made the kind of inroads there that you have. You have quite a portfolio, Mr. Steele.”
“Call me Jackson, please. And while I understand the desire to branch out, I have to say that you excel in what you do. I meant what I said about this house. It’s a gem.”
“Coming from you, that’s high praise. Do you mind if I ask your opinion on a few things?”
“Not at all.”
“Looks like they’re going to talk shop,” Damien says to me. “Do you mind if I borrow you for the same purpose for a minute?”
“Of course not.”
As Jackson and Nathan head to the balcony to discuss foundations or arches or some other architectural details, I follow Damien into the kitchen where he gives me a quick update on his itinerary for the week. “There’s a play on Broadway that Nikki’s been wanting to see, and I need to meet with Isabel about next month’s product rollout. I thought I’d kill two birds and go to Manhattan Tuesday night.”
“Sounds like a plan. You’ll leave for Brussels from New York?” Nikki is attending some sort of digital conference, and Damien is going as well. They’d been planning to fly from Los Angeles on Friday. “Do you still want Grayson on the flight? Or do you want to go commercial?”
“Make sure the date change doesn’t screw up any plans Grayson might have. If he’s free, book a suite for him, too. He can have a few days of R&R in New York before we make the trip.”
I grin. “He’ll love it.”
“He’ll spend the entire time at the airport looking at other pilots’ birds,” Damien says.
“Like I said—he’ll love it.”
“Bring Rachel up to speed, and make sure she knows everything she needs to about arranging my travel. The more you move off my desk, the more on top of things she has to be.”
“Of course, Mr. Stark.”
“And, Sylvia?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re doing a great job off my desk, too.”
The praise makes me glow. “Thank you. Anything else?”
“Just have a good time today.”
“Already done.” I start to return to the party, then pause. “Actually, can I ask you something?”
“Certainly.”
I hesitate, not sure how to phrase it. Since there doesn’t seem to be any good way, I just dive in. “I was wondering what happened in Atlanta. With the Brighton Consortium.”
“Were you?”