Not much, anyway.

His fingers wrapped around the steering wheel of his Mercedes, Lucas glanced again at the rearview mirror. Allie was still behind him in her ten-year-old Buick, her face barely visible through the sun-gilded windshield. When he’d first seen her rattletrap car, he’d nearly insisted she ride with him in the Benz, just to be certain she’d make it to the restaurant. But the Buick had started right up, its badly tuned engine rattling and knocking as it idled.

The Mercedes’s engine purred as he took the turn onto Auburn-Folsom Road toward the American River. As Allie’s car lagged behind him, barely making the light, Lucas mentally included “company car” on the list of inducements he planned to present to her tonight. Added to the package he’d already put together, she couldn’t possibly say no.

Nevertheless, anxiety dug away at his gut. He shouldn’t have taken that damn call from his attorney just before he left the office. It was only more bad news and it had thrown him off his stride, set him to second-guessing his strategy for handling Allie. The two had nothing to do with each other, no connection whatsoever. His failure to adopt had no bearing on his ability to retain the best admin assistant TaylorMade had ever hired.

Turning into the Cliff House Restaurant parking lot, he maneuvered his silver sedan into a space, then quickly crossed to Allie’s car to open her door. She looked up at him, her startled green eyes a tantalizing enticement. Reaching across for her purse, she laid her fingers in his outstretched palm and rose from the car. She quickly pulled her hand free, turning to shut the car door.

Keep your damn hands off her, Taylor! He followed her into the Cliff House, maintaining a good two feet of space between them. When he stepped around her to open the restaurant door for her, he made certain he didn’t rest a hand at the small of her back or brush his fingers along her arm. But his mind went wild imagining it.

It was still fairly early and the restaurant was half empty. The maître d’ led them to a window table overlooking the American River. The setting sun glittered on the broad swath of water below, a nearly blinding display.

Lucas waited until the maître d’ had finished fussing with menus and water glasses before he launched into his campaign. “Before you say anything, I want you to know I can match any salary.”

“What?” Her eyes widened, momentarily distracting him.

He pushed on. “And I can accelerate your vesting. Four years instead of five.”

Her brow furrowed. “Lucas, what are you talking about?”

“I don’t intend to let you leave the company.”

“What? Oh!” She smiled, and his body reacted immediately to that simple curving of her lips. “I’m sorry.”

Thinking she was apologizing because she’d already made up her mind, he opened his mouth to offer another of the persuasions he’d devised. But then she reached across the table to lay her hand over the back of his and his good sense fragmented in that light touch.

His teeth clenched, his jaw worked to keep himself from turning his hand on the table to clasp her fingers in his. He dug his fingertips into the white linen tablecloth until he thought he would tear holes in the sturdy fabric. His eyes on her small hand, he felt her warmth melting into his skin.

He glanced up at her, her gaze tangling with his. One moment they seemed joined by an intangible but unbreakable cord, the next she was snatching her hand away, color rising in her face. Lucas forced himself to leave his hand where it was, ignoring the chill that seemed to brush against it now that her touch was gone.

She dropped her hands to her lap, and her gaze fell to the white linen. “I’m not leaving the company, Lucas.” She tipped her chin up. “I need a loan.”

He tried to understand what she was saying. “A loan?”

She bobbed her head. “From you, Lucas. Twenty thousand dollars.” Her voice faltered slightly over the amount.

She wasn’t leaving! A weight seemed to lift inside him at the news. Yet his relief made him feel somehow vulnerable. He hardened that softness inside him. “Why?”

At first he thought she wouldn’t answer. “It’s personal. I’d rather leave it at that.”

Her evasiveness made him feel justified in being harsh with her. “You expect me to give you twenty thousand dollars—”

Her eyes burned with green fire. “Not give…loan.”

“—loan you twenty thousand without any reason?”

To her credit, she kept her gaze on him. “I’m not in trouble, Lucas. This isn’t to pay off a gambling debt run up in Tahoe or a stack of credit-card bills. But it is personal. I’d hoped that in the two years I’ve worked for you I’d proved myself—”

“Yes.”

Her mouth hung open a moment as she absorbed what he’d said. “Yes? You’ll loan me the money?”

He gave her a clipped nod, the enormity of what was falling into place inside him nearly making him shake all over. It’s a business decision, nothing more, he told himself, but still it took a good long breath for him to continue.

“I’ll give you the money,” he said. “On one condition.”

She swallowed, the motion of her throat begging him to touch her there. “What condition?”

“Marry me.”

Allie couldn’t possibly have heard him right. She stared at his implacable face, waiting for him to continue, to clarify what he’d said. But he just stared back at her, his gray eyes unfathomable.

“Marry?” She swallowed, shaking her head. “You?”

For an instant, he seemed flustered, then he gathered his usual cloak of arrogance around him. “Hear me out.”

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze falling a moment to the linen tablecloth. She knew that impenetrable expression, had seen it dozens of time during staff meetings or when he was in the midst of acquisition negotiations. It meant he felt fully in control of the proceedings and intended to turn circumstances exactly the way he desired.

“Lucas—” she began, but he forestalled her with a raised hand.

“Hear me out,” he said again.

He lowered his hands to the edge of the table, his fingers gripping so tightly, his knuckles whitened. Allie suddenly realized he wasn’t nearly as in control as she’d thought.

He kept his eyes fixed on her as if it were an effort of will. “For the past several months, I’ve been attempting to adopt.”

“A baby?” she asked, incredulous.

“Or a young child.” He cleared his throat. “The county doesn’t want to approve a forty-year-old single man. My attorney tells me I could even the odds considerably if I married.”

He made the process sound so cut-and-dried, she might have thought he considered a child one more step in the well-thought-out business plan of his life. Yet she detected the faintest tremor in his voice, a shadow of desperation in his eyes. This from a man who remained aloof when employees brought their children into the office.

“Lucas, we hardly know one another. To marry—”

“If it’s sex you’re worried about…”

Sex! Good God, she hadn’t even considered the physical side of a marriage to Lucas. Despite herself, her mind raced, her heart rate keeping pace. All the fantasies she’d struggled to contain surged forward.

“…I’m not proposing a conventional marriage,” Lucas continued, oblivious to her rampant thoughts. “It would be strictly platonic.”

The sudden rush of disappointment unsettled her. Pushing it aside, she focused on rational discussion. “Why me? There must be other women, women you’ve dated who could play the role of wife.”

“They have much more complex lives than you. They’ve been married before, have children, their own homes. You have no strings.”

True enough, but she felt irritation at the dismissive way he summed up her life. Allie shook her head. “Strings or not, I’m not interested in marriage.”