She managed a smile. “Two ways,” she corrected. “And I think mine’s the safest.”

“Safest.” Reaching down, he ran a fingertip over the curve of her cheek. “You want safety, Summer?”

“Yes.” It was easily said because she’d discovered it was true. Safety was something she’d never thought about until Blake, because she’d never felt endangered until then. “I’ve made myself a lot of promises, Blake, set a lot of goals. Instinct tells me you could interfere. I always go with my instincts.”

“I’ve no intention of interfering with your goals.”

“Nevertheless, I have a few very strict rules. One of them is never to become intimate with a business associate or a client. In one point of view, you fall into both categories.”

“How do you intend to prevent it from happening? Intimacies come in a lot of degrees, Summer. You and I have already reached some of them.”

How could she deny it? She wanted to run from it. “We managed to keep out of each other’s way for two weeks,” she pointed out. “It’s simply a matter of continuing to do so. Both of us are very busy at the moment, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Eventually one of us is going to break the rules.”

And it could be me just as easily as it could be him, she thought. “I can’t think about eventually, only about now. I’ll stay downstairs and do my job. You stay upstairs and do yours.”

“Like hell,” Blake muttered and took a step forward. Summer was halfway to her feet when a knock sounded on her door.

“Mr. Cocharan, there’s a phone call for you. Your secretary says it’s urgent.”

Blake controlled his fury. “I’ll be there.” He gave Summer a long, hard look. “We’re not finished.”

She waited until he’d reached the door. “I can turn this place into a palace or a greasy spoon,” she said quietly. “It’s your choice.”

Turning around, he measured her. “Blackmail?”

“Insurance,” she corrected and smiled. “Play it my way, Blake and everybody’s happy.”

“Your point, Summer,” he acknowledged with a nod. “This time.”

When the door closed behind him, she sat again. She may have outmaneuvered him this time, she mused, but the game was far from over.

Summer gave herself another hour before she left her temporary office to go back to the kitchen. Busboys wheeled in and out with trays of dirty dishes. The dishwasher hummed busily. Pots simmered. Someone sang as she basted a chicken. Two hours to the dinner rush. In another hour, the panic and confusion would set in.

It was then, when the scent of food hit her, that Summer realized she hadn’t eaten. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, she began to root through the cupboards. She’d find something for a late lunch, and see just how provisions were organized.

She couldn’t complain about the latter. The cupboards were not only well stocked, they were systematically stocked. Max had a number of excellent qualities, she thought. A pity an open mind wasn’t among them. She continued to scan shelf after shelf, but the item she was looking for was nowhere to be found.