He reached across the table and offered his hand. Cinn automatically took it even though she was still trying to make sense of what he’d just said. His large hand engulfed hers. A little more pressure and he’d snap a few bones. He evidently wasn’t in a bone-snapping mood tonight, because he released her. She dropped her hands into her lap, where she tried to rub away the numbness.

“Sparkle will fill you in on the details.” Rising, he strode from the club.

“I’m Cinn…” Her voice trailed off. He couldn’t hear her. She turned to Sparkle. “What did he mean by—?”

“That Edge, always joking.” Sparkle’s laughter sounded forced.

Doubts poked at Cinn’s determination to make this job work. The offer had seemed like a great idea when Sparkle made it. With her family all in Oregon, Texas seemed like the perfect place to escape from their constant visits. She was tired of fending off demands that she abandon her experiments and fall in with family tradition. Airmids had always worked with plants, but not the way she did. Generations of Airmids had become horticulturalists, run landscaping businesses, and owned ordinary greenhouses.

Cinn was the exception, the only one who dared to tweak Mother Nature’s nose by developing plants that went beyond accepted plant behavior. Mother Nature would eventually bring her hammer down, or at least that’s what Cinn’s family thought.

“Well, now that you’ve met Edge, we can move on to Bain.” Sparkle’s determined cheerfulness was fraying around the edges.

Bain smiled, and Cinn’s train of thought derailed.

“Unlike Edge, I don’t have places to be and things to do.”

The sensual twist of those lips promised that if he did have things to do, they’d be a lot more interesting than what Edge had in mind.

Cinn grasped at something she understood, something familiar. “Intriguing name. The baneberry is an herb with poisonous berries. That’s why bane means something that causes death or destruction.” And here she’d promised herself she wouldn’t bore people with plant stuff. But she refused to feel guilt. She’d bet this man could turn most women into babbling idiots.

He seemed to be giving her comment serious thought. “Different spelling. I spell my name with an a-i-n. Death and destruction, huh?” The idea evidently amused him, because his smile widened. “I like your spelling better.”

What did he mean by that?

He leaned back in his chair. “I think your name’s a lot more interesting than mine, though. How can a man resist a woman named Sin?”