Trust Me by Jayne Ann Krentz

speak.”
    “That's it. I've had it.” Desdemona whirled around and started toward the door that led to the living room. “I quit. You can find yourself another caterer.”
    “You can't quit.” Stark strode after her. “You're on retainer. We signed a contract.”
    “So what?” She opened the door of the hall closet and found her purse on one of the beautifully well-organized shelves. “You may put a lot of faith in contracts, Stark, but I've got news for you. Contracts were made to be broken.”
    “You sure as hell didn't take that attitude a month ago when you insisted that I pay you for my cancelled wedding reception.”
    A pang of guilt shot through her. “That's got nothing to do with this.”
    “A contract is a contract.” He caught up with her at the front door. “Damn it, I swear I won't ever mention your panties again.”
    She glowered at him. “You are very possibly the most socially inept man that I have ever met.”
    “But I'm also one of the smartest men you've ever met. That means I'm educable. Give me a chance, Desdemona.”
    She groaned in sheer frustration. “This is insane.”
    “Look, I'll admit I'm not good at relationships,” Stark said. “All of mine seem to end with me standing alone at an altar. Obviously I've been doing something wrong in the past. I've done some thinking about the problem, and I believe I know what I'm doing wrong.”
    “I don't think I want to hear this,” Desdemona said.
    He paid no attention. “I've been too results-oriented. It's only natural for me.”
    “What the heck does that mean?”
    His eyes narrowed in a considering scowl. “It's true that my specialty is finding practical applications for theories derived from the science of complexity. I'm in that field because something in me wants to find patterns. I like to produce useful results. Do you understand?”
    “I think so. You want to bring order out of chaos.”
    “I suppose that's one way of putting it. The point is, I tend to take the same approach in everything I do. I like to identify patterns. Establish goals. Produce results.”
    She eyed him uneasily. “This is the approach you've used in your past relationships?”
    He shrugged. “I suppose so.”
    “Obviously it hasn't worked.”
    “No,” he admitted. “But I'd like to try a different approach with you.”
    “What does that mean? That I'm going to be some sort of experiment?”
    He looked pleased at her perception. “In a way. With you, I'm going to try to let myself go with the flow. For the first time in my life, I'm going to go into a relationship without being overly logical about it.”
    “Be still, my beating heart.”
    “Hell, this is coming out all wrong. I knew I shouldn't have started talking. I'm no good at talking.”
    “You noticed?”
    “You've got a right to be annoyed,” Stark said. “I'm really screwing this up, aren't I?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    He braced one hand against the wall and regarded her with an expression of savage concentration. “Look, I've apologized. If I swear that I won't try to rush things between us again, that I'll give you plenty of space, that I won't pressure you, will you go to that party on Thursday night with me?”
    Desdemona hesitated. Saying yes would probably be one of the dumbest things she had ever done in her life. On the other hand, her panties were still damp. She had never met a man who had such a lethal effect on her senses. And the siren's call of the Wainwright intuition was singing in her blood.
    “All right,” Desdemona said.
    Relief flared in Stark's eyes. “You mean it?”
    “Yes. Provided you stick to your promise.”
    “I will. And you're still my official caterer?”
    “Business is business, isn't it?” Desdemona gave him a flippant smile that she hoped would hide her shaky nerves.
    “Sure.” Stark's expression was one of bone-deep satisfaction. “Business is business.”

5
     
    I t had been a near thing.
    He'd come close to blowing it, Stark thought the