the reception area, they stepped into an elevator and headed downstairs. There was a security guard at the desk in the lobby. He came in after closing and stayed until midnight, then someone else took over till the company opened in the morning.
“We’ll be back a little later, Marvin,” she said to the guard, a big, pudgy black man with a kindly face. “By the way, this is Jake Cantrell. He’s providing security for the next few days. It’s all right for him to go in and out whenever he needs to.”
“That’s what Mr. Dumont said.”
She should have known her grandfather would make it easy for Cantrell to do his job. Ian wanted her safe. He was determined.
“Your grandfather gave me a parking pass,” Jake said. “My Jeep’s in the executive lot. With those shoes, maybe you’d better ride.”
She looked down at her Jimmy Choos. Riding would be good. “Might be hard to find a parking space at the restaurant.”
“I don’t think so. Not this time of night.”
He led her to a fancy black Jeep that seemed the perfect fit for him, having big wide tires with chrome rims and a roll bar that would show when the top was down. Which, thankfully, it wasn’t. As hot as it was, she was glad to get in out of the heat.
He helped her climb inside, which wasn’t that easy in a snug skirt and high heels. As she snapped her seat belt into place, Cantrell rounded the car, then slid in behind the wheel and cranked the engine.
It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant, and since most people in the downtown area went home after work, there were parking places in the lot. The maître d’, a little man with slicked-back black hair, greeted them effusively. Clearly, he knew Cantrell.
Or maybe he was just afraid of him. Sage hid a grin.
“Mr. Cantrell, it’s good to see you. I have your table ready, if you’ll come this way?”
“Thanks, Mario.” A big hand settled at her waist as Jake guided her to a table with a red-checked cloth and a little red candle in the middle. Typical Italian, but the place seemed downright homey. Sage liked it right away.
She sat down and picked up a menu. When the waiter arrived, she ordered the pasta primavera with extra vegetables.
“I’ll have the lasagna, and bring us a couple glasses of Chianti.” Jake glanced over at her. “Unless you’d like something else?”
“I’d love a glass, but I wasn’t planning to drink. I need to have my wits about me.”
“You don’t have to finish it.” He nodded at the waiter and the man disappeared, returning a few minutes later with the wine.
Sage took a sip, glad Jake had ordered it, after all. She felt suddenly nervous as she looked across the table at the handsome man.
“So you’re going to marry Phillip Stanton,” he said, taking a drink of his wine.
“That’s right. We thought maybe sometime next year.”
“But you don’t live together. Your grandfather mentioned that when we discussed some of the security issues.”
“No. Phillip spends a great deal of time out of the country. In fact, the day after tomorrow he’s returning to his office in Edinburgh.”
“Makes things a lot easier.”
She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that, especially when she noticed the way those blue eyes slid over her.
Cantrell turned his attention to business, pulling folded sheets of paper out of his back pocket. “First, I’ve got a couple of questions.”
“Fire away.”
“How long will the Saudis be here?”
“The trip is open-ended. I’m hoping not more than a week. They arrive on Tuesday. I figure we should give them Wednesday to relax, then bring them into the office on Thursday and begin the negotiations.”
With a faint smile, Cantrell started shaking his head.
Sage knew right then it was going to be a very long night.
* * *
Jake leaned back in his chair. He had a nice view of a very pretty woman, all smooth skin, golden eyes and softly curling dark brown hair. For several long moments he allowed himself to enjoy it, didn’t even fight the hardening of his body beneath the table. Unfortunately, his relationship with Sage Dumont was strictly business. He intended to remind himself of that on a daily basis.
“To start with, Thursday and Friday are going to pose a problem,” he said. “That’s more or less a Saudi’s weekend. They’ll expect you to entertain them on Thursday, then Friday is a day of relaxation and meditation. Like our Saturdays and Sundays.”
Jake caught Sage’s exasperated sigh as she set her wineglass on the table. “The office is closed on the weekend. That means we’ll have to wait until Monday before we even start.”
“You might as well resign yourself. The Saudis take everything slowly. They’ll need to get to know you before they even begin to think about negotiations.”
“I read that, but I didn’t think it would mean losing almost a week.”
The waiter arrived just then with their food. Jake let the conversation drift while they dug into their meals. The lasagna was damn good, as always. Bella’s was a personal favorite of his in the area. From the look of pure pleasure on Sage’s pretty face, he figured she was enjoying it, too.
“This is wonderful,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I can’t remember when I’ve had a chance to do more than grab a snack here and there.”
Jake was beginning to think maybe Annie was right, and Sage had climbed the corporate ladder with a lot of hard work. Not that being a Dumont hadn’t opened the door.
“Okay, what else?” she asked.
“You’ll need someone you work with to attend the meetings with you. He’ll be the one who asks most of the questions.”
“But I can handle that.”
“If you do, they’ll think you’re a lackey. They’ll figure they should be speaking to someone else, someone who has the actual authority.”
Sage shook her head. “I spent half the day reading up on all this, and I still don’t have a clue. I hate to say it, but I’m glad you’re here to help.”
Jake’s eyebrows went up. He hadn’t expected to hear those words, at least not so soon.
“There is one thing,” she said.
He swallowed the bite of lasagna he had taken. “Which is…?”
“I don’t like the idea of you carrying a gun. I assume that’s what you’ve got clipped to your belt. Do you think it’s really necessary? I mean, as big as you are, and with the training you’ve had, surely you can handle any problem that might come up without shooting someone.”
“Probably.” He took a drink of his wine. “The problem is, if the other guy is carrying and I’m unarmed, then you and I are both in deep shit.”
Sage sat up a little straighter. “I think we should wait and see if a gun is really something you’ll need.”
“No.”
Her lips tightened. “I don’t like handguns.”
“Noted.” He returned his attention to his food. Sage fumed in silence, but the smell of the delicious pasta was nearly irresistible and pretty soon she was eating with the same gusto as before. She nearly cleaned her plate, and ate at least two pieces of toasted garlic bread. Jake enjoyed food, lots of it. He liked that she wasn’t a priss about eating.
They carried on with their work, and he was impressed that