Trust Me

Jayne Ann Krentz
Trust Me
    Desdemona Wainwright thinks Sam Stark looks much too calm for a man who has just been left at the altar. The males in her theatrical family would be letting their feelings explode. But she was hired to cater his wedding, not to save it. Desdemona marches into Stark’s den to demand the much-needed payment for the canceled reception – not to fall in love. But the self-controlled, steel-willed man behind Stark Security Systems, a multimillion-dollar consulting firm, does have the cold, logical brain of a computer – along with the muscular, sensual body of a medieval knight. He is Desdemona’s exact opposite. And don’t opposites attract?
    Sam Stark cannot understand what is wrong with treating marriage as a business deal. His ex-fiancee, stately blond Pamela, had seemed so perfect, so reasonable. This hoyden with wild red hair and huge turquoise eyes, insisting he write a check for hundreds of uneaten miniature asparagus tarts, is a different type: temperamental, volatile, and likely to drive a man crazy with her moods – or with desire. But Desdemona has the professional catering skills he needs for his business. It never occurs to him that she might not accept his offer to be his no-strings-attached, stand-in wife.
    Desdemona has other plans for herself and Stark. She thinks involving him with her staff, made up of her relatives and other out-of-work actors, will give him a sense of family. He thinks he’d rather spend his time with computers, but all too soon his private life and his business affairs are under siege. Desdemona is breaking down the walls around his heart – and someone is trying to get into his files to steal a top-secret computer program. Stark’s suspicions soon center on the people Desdemona holds most dear, as intrigue and murder swirl around them all. For this unlikely but ravishing pair, their love and even their lives may depend on emotions and bonds that can’t be measured – like unstoppable passion and unbreakable trust – in this wonderful new love story from Jayne Ann Krentz.
    Copyright © 1995 by Jayne Ann Krentz
    ISBN: 0-671-51.691-4

For my husband, Frank, the one I love and trust.

1

    “You’re a woman, Miss Wainwright. Give me your honest opinion.” Sam Stark paused briefly to drink from the glass of brandy in his hand. “Do you think it was the prenuptial agreement that spooked her?”
    Desdemona Wainwright followed Stark’s gaze. His attention was fixed on an object two floors below his study window. She had an uneasy feeling that he was brooding on the three large ice swans that were presently melting on the lawn of his austere garden.
    By now her staff had probably finished clearing away most of the evidence of the abruptly cancelled wedding reception. Fifteen pounds of cold tortellini salad, two hundred miniature asparagus tarts, three platters of herbed goat cheese, and a hundred and fifty spring rolls had no doubt been loaded back into the Right Touch Catering van.
    The cake, an elaborate five-tiered affair decorated with palest mauve and creamy white roses, would have been safely stowed in its special carrying crate.
    But the ice swans were a problem. Not only were they extremely heavy, by now they would be getting quite slippery.
    The swans would definitely be a write-off. Desdemona had taken an assessing glance at them as she had hurried to follow Stark into the concrete, steel, and glass fortress he called home. The swans’ beaks had already begun to droop, and their tail feathers were blurred. Even if rushed immediately back to the Right Touch freezer, they couldn’t be salvaged. Desdemona knew there was no way she could save them to use at the charity event her small business was scheduled to cater on Tuesday.
    A dead loss, just like the Stark-Bedford wedding.
    The easiest thing to do with the massive ice sculptures was to let them remain where they were until the late spring sun dissolved them. It wouldn’t take long, a couple of days, perhaps. Seattle was enjoying a rare streak of sunny weather.
    But Desdemona felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving the swans behind in Stark’s coldly elegant garden. It seemed a bit callous to stick the abandoned groom with three such vivid reminders of the humiliating experience he had endured this afternoon. Especially since she was in the process of trying to stick him with the tab for the expensive debacle as well.
    Desdemona set her jaw determinedly. She must not allow her