Hard Sell (21 Wall Street #2)(52)

“Just the one glass. But she’s been like this ever since she got here. I think she’s in love.”

“The only thing I’m in love with is cheese,” Kate retorts.

I lick burrata off my thumb, not entirely sure I believe her, but I suppose it’s possible. It’s hard not to be in love with cheese.

“So, is this going to be like a thing?” Kate asks, resting her elbows on Lara and Ian’s kitchen counter. “You guys hosting spontaneous dinner parties? Because I sort of love it.”

Lara pushes her glasses up on her nose. “You know, I sort of love it, too.” She smiles, as though surprised by the realization. “Who’d have thought that a former SEC agent would be hosting some of Wall Street’s elite in my swanky apartment?”

“I’m almost jealous of the fab apartment, but you have to put up with Ian, and I don’t know that I could,” Kate says, sipping her wine.

“You do that all day long,” I point out.

“Nope. Different,” Kate says. “The guys are totally different in their work habitat.”

“How’s that?” Kennedy says, ambling into the kitchen.

“Thought you were having man talk on the balcony,” I say, tilting my head back toward the glass doors off Ian’s living room that lead to a small outdoor space with a hell of a view.

“We are, but . . .” He holds up his empty wineglass as explanation for why he’s in the kitchen, then reaches for a bottle of red on the counter. “Besides, this is far more interesting. How are we different in the office?” he asks Kate again.

Kate pushes a strand of straight dark hair behind her ear, but it promptly falls forward again, quietly stubborn, much like the head it belongs to. “I’ll clarify. Ian and Matt are different inside the office. You’re more of the same.”

“Yeah?” He takes a sip of wine and watches her. “Explain.”

“No thanks.”

“Explain,” he repeats.

“See, this is exactly what I mean,” Kate says testily. “You’re bossy in the office, bossy outside the office . . .”

“And you’re not?”

“It’s my job to be bossy. Someone has to make sure you guys keep your pants zipped up so you don’t go thinking with your . . .” Kate gestures in the vicinity of Kennedy’s crotch, and Lara chokes into her wine.

Kennedy’s eyebrows lift. “Wasn’t aware that my”—he, too, gestures to his crotch—“was any of my assistant’s business.”

Her cheeks color slightly. “It’s not. Obviously. Neither is Ian’s or Matt’s. But while we’re on the subject . . .”

Kate gives me a sly look, and I give her a mental salute of respect for the skillful change of subject. Still, I can respect her without playing along. “Not open for discussion.”

“Oh, come on,” Lara says. “What the heck is going on with you guys? You’ve been in the same general area for nearly half an hour, and there hasn’t been a single fight.”

“Well, one of them’s been on the balcony, the other in the kitchen,” Kennedy points out. “It’d be hard to fight across that distance, even for them.”

“Shush,” Lara says. “Don’t ruin this for me. I want the scoop.”

“You already know the scoop.” I take a sip of my Chardonnay. “We have an arrangement. I play his doting girlfriend when needed and make the world believe he’s done with his partying ways.”

“I think it’s working,” Kate says. “Your morning coffee dates have all the women around the office talking. The general vibe is disappointment that Matt’s off the market, not skepticism that it’s a ploy.”

“Ian and I ran into an old colleague of the guys’ at dinner the other night,” Lara chimes in. “His wife was sweet but a total gossip hound, and she was relentless about finding out if a ring’s in your future after they saw you ‘making love eyes’ across the table at each other.”

I wince. “Damn. We might be doing our job a little too well.”

“Or maybe not,” Kennedy says with his usual storm-cloud touch. “Jarod Lanham’s not buying it.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Rumor has it he’s very interested in whatever you and Matt have going on.”

I freeze. What?

Frantically, my brain goes back to Jarod’s and my conversation at the bar that first night. Had I slipped up somehow? Inadvertently let him on to our ruse . . . ?

Kennedy freezes midsip, looking atypically nonplussed. “Matt didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what? And don’t say nothing,” I say, lifting a finger in warning.

“You’re just like Kate when you’re pissed.” Kennedy sighs. “Matt and Lanham had lunch on Monday. Matt said he was fishing for info on your relationship. I thought you knew.”

No, I didn’t know.

I’ve barely talked to Matt after our marathon sex weekend. Apparently when I’m not needed for sex or fake relationships, he has no use for me.

Lara pushes the cheese board toward me. “Eat this, sweetie.”

“And have a sip of this,” Kate says, picking up my wineglass and holding it up to my mouth.