More. She’d never known greed. She’d grown up in a world of affluence where enough was always available. For the first time in her life, Summer knew true hunger, true need. Those things brought pain, she discovered. A deep well of it that spread from the core. More. The thought ran through her mind again with the knowledge that the more she took, the more she would ache for.

Blake felt her stiffen. Not knowing the cause, he tightened his hold. He wanted her now, at once, more than he’d ever wanted or had conceived of wanting any woman. She shifted in his arms, resisting for the first time since he’d drawn her here. Throwing her head back, she looked up into the passion and impatience of Blake’s eyes.

“Enough.”

“No.” His hand was still tangled possessively in her hair. “No, it’s not.”

“No,” she agreed on an unsteady breath. “That’s why you have to let me go.”

He released her, but didn’t back away. “You’ll have to explain that.”

She had more control now—barely, Summer realized shakily, but it was better than none. It was time to establish the rules—her rules—quickly and precisely. “Blake, you’re a businessman, I’m an artist. Each of us has priorities. This—” she took a step back and stood straight “—can’t be one of them.”

“Want to bet?”

Her eyes narrowed more in surprise than annoyance. Odd that she’d missed the ruthlessness in him. It would be best if she considered that later, when there was some distance between them. “We’ll be working together for a specific purpose,” she went on smoothly. “But we’re two different people with two very different outlooks. You’re interested in a profit, naturally, and in the reputation of your company. I’m interested in creating the proper showcase for my art, and my own reputation. We both want to be successful. Let’s not cloud the issue.”

“That issue’s perfectly clear,” Blake countered. “So’s this one. I want you.”

“Ah.” The sound came out slowly. Deliberately she reached for her neglected purse. “Straight and to the point.”

“It would be a bit ridiculous to take a more circular route at the moment.” Amusement was overtaking frustration. He was grateful for that because it would give him the edge he’d begun to lose the minute he’d tasted her. “You’d have to be unconscious not to realize it.”

“And I’m not.” Still, she backed away, relying on poise to get her out before she lost whatever slim advantage she had. “But it’s your kitchen—and it’ll be my kitchen—that’s my main concern right now. With the amount of money you’re paying me, you should be grateful I understand the priorities. I’ll have a tentative list of changes and new equipment you’ll have to order on Monday.”

“Fine. We’ll go to dinner Saturday.”

Summer paused at the door, turned and shook her head. “No.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight.”

It was rare that anyone ignored a statement she’d made. Rather than temper, Summer tried the patient tone she remembered from her governess. It was bound to infuriate. “Blake, I said no.”