Magnate by Joanna Shupe

up the red packages and darted out into the corridor.
    â€œYou are such an easy mark,” Brendan said with a chuckle.
    â€œDon’t you have somewhere to be?” Emmett snapped at his brother. “Saving lives, perhaps?”
    Brendan raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll leave you to it. Have fun tonight.”
    * * *
    Lizzie tapped her fingers on the linen-covered tabletop, unable to sit still. She had arrived at Sherry’s early, too excited to wait. Even her trepidation over dining in a small private suite could not dim her joy.
    She’d succeeded. She’d won Cavanaugh’s wager, doubled his money, and would soon be starting her own brokerage firm. Her chest seemed ready to burst with sheer happiness.
    Filled with giddiness, she’d placed a call to Emmett this morning to confirm their dinner. She wanted to deliver the news in person. Emmett had been unavailable, but his brother, Brendan, had been very helpful.
    â€œOh, yes,” Brendan had said over the line. “Emmett told me himself that he plans on meeting you at nine o’clock, Miss Sloane. Said he’s looking forward to it.”
    Apparently Emmett had arranged for the private dining room as well. What did that gesture mean? Heaven knew she’d contemplated the near-kiss in the carriage a hundred times since that night, wondered over what it would feel like to have his mouth on hers. And now they would spend the evening here, together, all alone. Her brother would be furious, of course, but Lizzie didn’t care about her reputation. Nothing could ruin this evening for her.
    The red velvet curtain swept aside, and Emmett strode in. He drew up short, almost as if surprised, but then continued toward her. Lizzie sucked in a breath. He looked huge in his black evening clothes, larger than life. Chiseled jaw, stark cheekbones, long eyelashes, and the bedeviling dip in his chin . . . Her skin grew hot, her stomach jumping. The man was hazardous to female kind.
    Lizzie stood and smoothed her violet silk Worth evening gown. She tried to contain her wide smile, her face aching with the effort. It would be silly, but she had the strangest desire to run and throw herself into his arms, to share the euphoria exploding within her.
    â€œMiss Sloane.”
    â€œMr. Cavanaugh.”
    He clasped his hands behind his back then studied her, his obsidian gaze dark and intense. “Your eyes are dancing. Can I assume you’ve good news?”
    The grin broke free, and she clapped her gloved hands. “I did it! As of yesterday, your investment stands at twenty-two thousand, twenty-nine dollars and sixty-three cents!”
    â€œAnd a day early. I am impressed, Elizabeth.” The lines of his rugged face softened, making him impossibly handsome. “This is cause for a celebration.”
    He strode back to the curtain and spoke to a waiter in the hall. She resumed her seat and busied herself with peeling off her purple gloves. Emmett returned and took his place, the setting dangerously close to hers. In fact, along with the candles, the entire atmosphere screamed intimate .
    She did not care. Tonight was for gaiety. Worries were for tomorrow.
    â€œYou must tell me how you did it,” he said, shifting toward her. A strong thigh slid close to her knee, and Lizzie felt her mouth go dry.
    Thankfully, the waiter arrived and began pouring champagne, allowing Lizzie a chance to compose herself. Emmett affected her in the strangest way.
    When they were alone again, he plucked a full glass off the table, handed it to her, then lifted his own in a toast. “To partnership.”
    Lizzie beamed. Hard to believe she would soon own her brokerage firm—well, half own. Regardless, she would have the opportunity to use her gifts in a practical sense, not merely as an exercise by herself. Financial security was close at hand. “To partnership.”
    They drank, and then Emmett said, “Will you tell me