He’d changed from his tuxedo into a white V-necked T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. His formerly neatly brushed hair was now tousled around his face. And he looked just as gorgeous as he had in the tailored tuxedo earlier.
She had long since grown accustomed to the unwelcome flutter she felt every time she saw him. No matter how he was dressed, Bryan Falcon was undeniably the best-looking man Grace had ever met. Usually she could ignore the sensations, but it was a bit harder in the late-night intimacy of this private suite, with both of them dressed in their ultracasual lounging clothes.
He leaned against one end of the bar. “Having a little trouble unwinding?”
She shrugged and took another glass from the cabinet beside the bar. “I’m just thirsty.”
“There’s a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice in the fridge. I like to have a glass before bedtime.”
“Another one of your special requests?” she asked as she opened the door to the small refrigerator built discreetly into the custom woodwork.
“Yes.”
“It must be nice to have everything you want at your fingertips.”
“It is,” he agreed equably. Apparently he wasn’t going to let her push any of his buttons tonight.
He nodded when she motioned with the pitcher, silently asking him if he wanted a glass. She filled an extra one and handed it to him.
He carried the glass to the sofa and sat on one end. After hesitating a moment, she perched on a chair arranged in conversation-group fashion nearby. She thought their casual clothing looked incongruous against the very formal gold-and-cream upholstery, but Bryan was obviously accustomed to making himself comfortable in such rooms. He lounged back against the cushions and crossed his bare feet on the low mahogany table in front of him.
“Are we still on for our high-profile lunch tomorrow?” he asked. “Or would you rather bail out and go home early?”
She wondered if he suspected how tempted she was to accept that escape, but she shook her head. “You said being seen around town together would strengthen the impression that we’re a couple. That’s what we came here to do.”
“You think you can get through an entire meal without dumping a plate of food in my lap?”
“You think you can get through an entire meal without making me mad enough to dump a plate of food in your lap?” she countered.
He grinned. “I can try.”
Her lips tilted into an answered smile. “Then so will I.”
It was so rare for them to smile at each other that the moment caught her off guard. When she realized that he was suddenly staring at her mouth, her smile faded.
Lifting his gaze to her eyes, he asked, “What is it about me, exactly, that annoys you so much? Just so I don’t end up with food in my lap tomorrow.”
She looked down into her orange juice. “I promise I won’t throw food in your lap tomorrow. I know how important it is for us to divert the gossips’ attention away from Chloe and Donovan so they can plan their wedding in peace.”
“Actually, throwing food at me would be a very effective way of diverting attention to us.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not the right type of attention, perhaps.”
He shrugged, keeping his gaze on her face. “I’m serious, Grace. What is it about me that you dislike so much? I know you didn’t approve of me as a potential suitor for your sister, but that’s over. So…is it something I said? Something I did? You don’t like the way I walk? Talk? Smell?”
She couldn’t help smiling again. “You smell quite nice, actually. Very expensive.”
His left eyebrow rose in an expression that some might call sardonic. “Old Spice. My housekeeper picks it up for me at Wal-Mart when she buys groceries and cleaning supplies. It was the scent my grandfather wore, and I’ve always been rather fond of it.”
She blinked. “Oh.”
“That surprises you.”
“I’m not surprised that you have a housekeeper. Probably one for every house you own.”
“So it’s my money that bothers you.”
She squirmed uncomfortably on the chair. “Let’s just say I’m not accustomed to the kind of wealth and power you command.”