He was pulling her under his spell and she knew it, but she was helpless to stop herself. Maybe that was exactly what he wanted, and she was playing right into his hand, but she’d never been as cynical as she oftentimes thought she should be.

She immediately decided to take Dustin at face value unless he proved her wrong. It was only fair, and he seemed nice enough.

She cupped her chin in one palm and leaned forward to better hear his answer.

“Well, I can’t afford it, for one thing,” he said. “At least, not until I get my inheritance.” He laughed at his own joke. “And for another, I think fancy cars give off kind of a hoity-toity attitude to the general public, don’t you?”

Isobel nearly choked. Towncars were a regular, accepted part of her existence as an image consultant, and something she’d taken for granted. She had been raised in a small Texas town and had not grown up with such luxuries, yet she admitted now she’d never given a single thought to how a person on the streets of Denver, perhaps someone less fortunate than herself, would consider the mode of transportation she chose.

“But you said you drive a sports car,” she countered tightly as it occurred to her. It was an accusation, and she knew it sounded like one.

“That’s true. I do,” he said, smiling. He didn’t look the least bit offended, but he offered no further explanation.

“And that’s okay with you.”

His grin widened. Then he lifted his dark eyebrows and shrugged.

“Are you hungry?” Dustin asked, meeting her gaze squarely. She had the feeling he knew exactly what she was thinking and was playing rescuer to her own guilty conscience.

It was an unnerving feeling. She shook her mind from the thought and said, “No, thank you. I try not to eat much after noon.”

He glanced at his watch, as if he weren’t already aware it was well after the noon hour. “You’re kidding. That can’t be good for your health.”

Isobel chuckled. Ten minutes into their first conversation and he was already trying to change her. What an amusing paradox.

“A drink, at least?” he coaxed in a warm, rich voice. “You aren’t going to sit across from me with nothing while I stuff my face, are you? I missed lunch and I’m starving.”

“All right,” she said, giving in gracefully to this one small concession. “I guess I might enjoy a good cup of hot tea. Herbal. And make sure it has no caffeine or sugar.”

He stood and saluted. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll bring you just what you ordered.”

“Thank you, Dustin,” she said with a sigh as she watched him approach the counter. She wasn’t sure if he’d heard her or not, for he didn’t turn or acknowledge the comment.

“Dearest Lord, what have I gotten myself into?” she prayed under her breath as she stared at Dustin’s broad back. “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed here. This is a new one for me. A little help? Please.”

Actually, she could use a lot of help. She felt she was way out of her league where Dustin Fairfax was concerned.

He quickly returned to the table with a loaded tray, placing it on the table before turning his chair around properly and seating himself.

“One cool-mint hot tea for you, and two large, completely indigestible pastrami sandwiches with extra jalapenos and onions, extra-large French fries and a large cola for me.”

With a cheeky smile he leaned on his elbows and began unwrapping his first sandwich.

“Are you trying to give yourself a heart attack?” she quipped.

He burst into laughter and had to cover his mouth to keep from spitting food. Putting his index finger in the air in a gesture for her to hold on for a moment, he chewed and swallowed his large bite of sandwich, then chased it down with a big drink of cola.

“This stuff doesn’t bother me,” he assured her. “I’m as healthy as a horse.”

She eyed his meal in disbelief, then twisted her lips and met his sparkling gaze. “Right. Tell me those same words again in ten years.”

“I had my cholesterol checked when I turned thirty. Honest.”

She shrugged. “Eat whatever you want. They’re your arteries.”

With a grin, he picked up his jumbo-sized sandwich and took another big bite, right out of the middle of the bread.

Etiquette was evidently going to have to be added to Isobel’s list of things to go over with Dustin in their six weeks together.

She was amazed at how fast the sandwiches and fries disappeared, especially since Dustin was doing most of the talking during the meal.

He cheerfully talked about his childhood—about growing up in the Fairfax household, how he had felt having a controlling father and a competitive older brother like Addison around.

He glossed over the death of his mother, though Isobel thought it must have made a huge alteration in the life of a considerate, impressionable young man, both then and now. Certainly such a tragic event would have had a great deal of influence on the man Dustin had become.

Addison was Dustin’s only sibling, and according to Dustin’s many laughter-filled stories, they had done their share of fighting and wrestling when they were young. Addison had always been bigger, but Dustin was slick, smooth and, he told Isobel with a smile that could spark up a lighthouse, he could run faster. So the disputes had remained fairly even, and Dustin spoke of his brother with affection.

He asked Isobel about her family, but she said as little as possible, other than that she was an only child and grew up in a small town in Texas.

Since Dustin’s parents had been together forty-five years until his mother’s death, Isobel felt awkward discussing her own parents’ divorce when she was an infant, and the many ways that had affected her.

Besides, everyone’s parents got divorced these days. Why should she have been any different?

She didn’t remember her father, and though she’d made peace with that, it rose up to haunt her now. She felt overly emotional trying to discuss her childhood, though Dustin had been open about his.

Not that she’d had a bad life—her mother had become a Christian soon after her father had left, and Isobel had been raised healthy, happy and loved, with plenty of hard work to bind them together in strength and lots of support from their home church.

Still, she didn’t like talking about it, especially to a man she hardly knew. She didn’t even want to think about it.

When she said as much, Dustin seemed to take it in stride, though he tried time and again to engage her in talking about herself; if not her childhood, at least what she was doing now.

“I have a small condo in the city that I share with my best friend, Camille. Have you met her?” she asked inquisitively.

He shook his head vigorously. “No, but I’ve heard she’s a great girl.”

“Camille would have a fit if she heard you calling her girl,” Isobel replied. “We’re both twenty-eight, you know.”

“Oh,” he said, frowning as he strung out the syllable. “Old ladies, then.”

She couldn’t help it. She kicked him under the table, and thought she made good contact with his shin.

He didn’t even acknowledge that he’d been kicked at all, except perhaps in the tiniest widening of his all-male grin.

“I have the rest of the afternoon off,” he said with his usual casual bluntness. “If you want to take advantage of me, that is.”

Isobel choked on her tea. She knew her face was flaming, and it didn’t help that Dustin only chuckled mildly when he realized what he’d said, or rather, how it had sounded.

He shook his head and cuffed the side of his head to indicate he hadn’t been thinking. “What I was really trying to say was—”

“I know what you were trying to say,” she said, surprised she could speak. “And I’m going to surprise you by taking you up on that invitation, however awkwardly it may have been worded,” she teased, enjoying the way his attractive smile widened when their eyes met.