“Because I knew it would bother you.” The sound of unfamiliar voices in the sanctuary came out through the transom windows along the side of the church. I took another step up, and Trent stayed where he was, confident though I was now taller than him.

“That’s why I want you there,” he said. “You’re unpredictable, and that can be the difference between success and failure. Most people make decisions in anger, fear, love, or obligation. You make decisions to irritate people.”

“You’re just chalking up the points here, Trent.”

“I need that unpredictability,” he continued, as if I hadn’t said anything.

Agitated, I focused on him. “Forty thousand for a night of unpredictability is expensive.”

His face shifted, and with sly delight he echoed, “Forty thousand?”

I cringed inside as I told him my price, then decided to go with it. “Or whatever it takes to get my church resanctified,” I countered.

Trent took his eyes from me for the first time, sending his gaze up the length of the steeple, squinting at it. “Your church lost its sanctification? What happened?”

I took a breath, backing up on the landing. “We had an incident,” I said sharply. “I gave you my terms. Take it and leave, or just leave.”

Eyes gleaming, Trent countered, “I’ll pay five thousand if all three functions are incident-free, and forty thousand if you’re required to intervene.”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” I muttered, glancing across the street. “Just get your elf ass off my walk before I change my mind.”

Then I froze, shocked when Trent lightly ascended the steps between us, the relief and genuine appreciation turning him from a successful, confident businessman into a normal, everyday guy, a little worried and unsure of his future. “Thank you, Rachel,” he said while handing me the garment bags. “Jonathan will call when she finally chooses a dress.”

The garment bags settled over my arm with the scent of perfume. Crap, they were made from silk, and I wondered what the dresses looked like. I felt odd having Trent thank me. He wasn’t moving, though, and I prompted, “Well, good-bye.”

He hesitated, eyeing me as he found the sidewalk. He went to say something, then turned away. Quen had the door for him, and, his steps quick despite the heat, Trent headed for the limo and slid in with a practiced grace. Quen gently shut the door. Watching me, he went to the front of the car and got in. Guilt pricked at me. Was I doing Ceri an injustice by not introducing her to Trent? I didn’t want him using her, but she could take care of herself, and, if nothing more, she could find others of her kind. Trent probably had a Christmas card list.