The Frame-Up (The Golden Arrow #1)(25)
His next words have a ring of finality to them. They sound suspiciously like the opening lines of a comic book introducing a new hero: “Welcome to the LAPD, Michael-Grace.”
CHAPTER 9
Matteo pulls up to Genius Comics, and I’m surprised when he parks in a visitor’s spot and turns off the engine instead of just dropping me off. “I know this is awkward to ask.”
My heartbeat zings in my chest. Is he going to actually ask me out? I’m shocked to find that I’d readily accept. I’m slightly desperate to put my finger on just what intrigues me about this man. And bonus points that he doesn’t seem the type to secretly tape, analyze, and try to market dating a geek chick like some of my more recent relationships.
He keeps looking ahead, fingers fidgeting on the steering wheel. He’s nervous. My body responds in kind, releasing a horde of dragons into my stomach.
“I need you to keep the fact that you’re helping us a secret.” He leans forward.
I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Okay, but what do I tell everyone?”
And now he looks really uncomfortable. “You said your coworkers already think we’re seeing each other. We could let them draw their own conclusions and just not correct them? That way we don’t have to out and out lie. You can help with the investigation if need be, and I can just drop in if I need to?”
So he is asking me out, but only as a cover. My little stomach dragons blink out of existence. It makes sense—he’d gain access to my coworkers, be able to come by the office without alerting anyone to the fact that the police are watching Genius. But it doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. “You will not distract me at work. You will text any and every time you are coming, whether or not I agree to your scheme.”
He slides out, opens my door, and insists on walking me to the lobby.
I try to tell him every which way to Sunday with my eyes that it’s not necessary. That it’s chauvinistic. That I won’t be attacked in the one hundred feet to the main door, but he insists by ignoring me pointedly.
“So is that a yes?”
I eyeball him, trying not to note how good he looks with his work shirt rolled up at the elbows and his noon-o’clock shadow. I’ve got a lot going on right now, and I hate to admit that maybe, just maybe, my feelings are hurt about being only a pawn. A work tool. Not to mention the fact that there may be a double agent out there. Though it’s unlikely, it could be Matteo. My instincts don’t seem to be firing right around him, muddied by the electricity I feel. If I play along without doing my own bit of sleuthing, I could be leading the bad guy right to my friends and coworkers.
“It’s a ‘we’ll see.’ I don’t have time for a boyfriend, fake or otherwise. Especially not one who drives a Prius. My friends would never buy it.”
He ignores the Prius dig. “Can I stop by the office and look at the new comics? We need to get a feel for where we think this is headed, now that we know more about what we’re dealing with.”
“You could buy them yourself. I have a lot of work I need to do this week. Not only am I writing a new issue; I have to try and figure out how to get this promotion. I thought my boss was announcing it today, but he didn’t, so there’s still a chance. And there’s this huge gala thing we’re hosting for the thirtieth anniversary in a few weeks.” A ball of stress forms in my stomach. As much as I said the words to make an excuse, I really don’t have time for a boyfriend right now. Or a pretend boyfriend.
“But I need you to look at them and tell me what you’re seeing. You’re the expert.” He’s wearing that damn look on his face that makes me think of puppies.
“Fine.” I hold up my finger before he can crow with victory. “But not at work. You’ve already shot my week to hell. You can come over to my house later this week and look at mine. I work from home Thursdays.” This way I can keep him away from my coworkers and boss . . . but then he’ll be in my house. I’m not sure which is worse.
“Deal.”
I pull open the large glass doors, and of course, my full team—Kyle, Simon, and Tejshwara—are gathered in the front lobby, so they see us walk in.
“I’ll see you later,” Matteo says.
“Yeah, okay.” I give a half wave and turn to flee to the safety of the elevator, but not before my coworkers muck up the situation even further.
“Hey, Matteo!” It’s Kyle, and he’s crossing the room to the main door before it can close. I note a fresh bandage on his wrist. From his newest escapade swinging in over a warehouse in his Spider-Man pajamas, perhaps? “We were thinking about having a movie marathon this weekend, and we wanted to invite you and MG. Saturday, at my house. From eleven to eleven.”
My mouth actually falls open. This is unprecedented territory. I don’t get invited to work parties. Other than Christmas, but then I just bring Lawrence or Ryan with me and hang out by the artichoke dip for four hours.
Matteo doesn’t look surprised. He looks infuriatingly calm and normal about this. He says, “Oh, that’s so nice of you. I think we could make—”
At the same time, I say, “No.”
The peanut gallery looks between us.
“I thought you had that thing on Saturday?” I say through gritted teeth. This is getting out of hand. I didn’t realize we’d face the pretend dating thing directly after our conversation.