Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(81)

29





Eric





“Walk me out?” my brother says when he’s ready to leave Alex’s place. “There’s a favor I need to ask.”

“Of me?” I gasp. “What could possibly go wrong.”

“Come on. It will take an hour, tops. And then I’ll drive you home.”

His expression is so serious that for once I don’t even argue. “Fine. Let me just say goodbye to Alex. Wait here.”

I find her rinsing her plate in the kitchen. “Another cup of coffee?” she asks me.

“No thanks. I’m going to head out with Max.”

“Oh.” Disappointment flashes across her face for a hot second. Then she straightens her spine. “Thank you for feeding me.”

“Well, I can’t solve many of your problems, but that one was easy. Are you going to be okay here?”

“Of course.” She sighs. “But it won’t be an easy week. I’ve put years of my life into that company. I learned it from the bottom up. Did you know I started out in the sales department selling advertising minutes?”

“That sounds like I job I don’t want.” I move closer to give her a hug. Not that it’s easy with that belly in the way.

She wraps her arms around me. “A hundred and seventy-five bucks got you a thirty second spot during daytime TV in the suburbs, on a low rent channel. I sold so many the price went up to two-twenty-five.”

“You shark.” I kiss her on the nose.

“My father wanted me to understand how the money was made. So it was three years until I had a management job. Every time I began to outperform the old timers, he’d just move me to a different department where I’d start learning all over again. And when I took the helm three years ago, the business media still screamed nepotism.”

“You probably saw that coming, though.” There’s a lot of trash talk in journalism. Ask any hockey player.

“Of course. They’re warmer to me now. Or at least until my company sells a device that exposes every Engels Cable Media customer to international identity theft.”

“You won’t let it come to that.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “But I hate the thought that one man can lob a grenade at my life’s work. God knows how much this will cost us. I hope your brother is wrong. How often is Max wrong, by the way?” She puts a hand on her swollen belly and rubs.

“Well…” That’s a tricky question. “He’s wrong about me all the time. About matters of security? Not so much.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Geniuses are frustrating people,” I point out. “That’s why you want to stick with a dumb jock, baby. It’s my body that’s talented.”

“I noticed that.” She reaches up and puts her hand on the back of my neck. “Thank you for sharing your talents with me last night.”

Last night has a certain finality to it. I’m pretty sure she’s giving me the brush off. “It was my pleasure,” I whisper. And then I duck my head and kiss her neck very softly, but very thoroughly, until I feel her shiver.

“Geez, Eric. Your mouth is probably illegal in several states.”

“Yours is pretty talented,” I point out, kissing my way into the collar of her shirt. When I walk out that door in a few minutes, I want her to remember I was here. “What time is it, anyway?”

She glanced up at a clock on the wall. “Eleven-thirty. That means I can call Rolf and give him the bad news that we’re working on a Sunday.”

“Poor Rolf.” I kiss her neck, wondering how soon I can visit again.

“He’s…” Her body melts against mine. “W-well compensated for the inconvenience of being my assistant.”

“Mmm hmm.” Kiss. “I’d better go.” Kiss. “And let you get to work, then.” Because I’m evil, I suck her earlobe into my mouth until she shivers.

Alex gives my chest a shove. “Go already. I can’t think when you do that. And right now, I really need to think.”

I give her one more kiss—a real one—and then I leave the kitchen behind.

In the hallway, Duff is seated in the guard’s chair. “She doing okay, man?”

“She’s doing great,” I say. “Your job is safe for another day.”

“You’re a miracle worker. What’s your secret?”

“Don’t answer that,” Max says under his breath.

“Bagels with all the fixings,” I say, giving Duff a wave as the elevator arrives.

Max presses the button for the parking garage beneath Alex’s building. We get into his new favorite ride—a Maserati GT. I can’t even keep track of all my brother’s toys.

His finger hovers over the ignition, but he doesn’t start the engine. “Before I take you downtown, I need to know. Are you ready to go to war for her?”

“War,” I repeat slowly. “Against whom?”

“Does it matter?” he asks, squinting at me from the driver’s seat. “Are you all in for Alex. You need to decide before we walk in there.”

And now I understand. “We’re going to Tatum’s place.”