Night Owl(28)

I paused before speaking.

"Mm. I'll keep that in mind. I have a few connections in the city."

"Matt, if you don't stop doing me favors, I'm going to start feeling like a kept woman."

"Hey, I like the sound of that. I'll keep you tied to my bed and let you suck on me when you're hungry. What do you think?"

Hannah giggled and bunched up a pillow beneath her chest.

"I'd smack you with this if I could," she said. She stifled a yawn. Fuck, she was precious. "Oh, hey. Will you do me a favor Matt?"

"Anything."

"This is easy. Just repeat after me. 'It was nice talking to you, Hannah. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.'"

I gave her an incredulous look.

"Don't give me that look. I'm trying to teach you this mysterious skill, one that you seem to lack. It's called how to say goodbye."

I smiled and rubbed the back of my neck.

"What are you grinning at?" she said.

"I never want to," I said.

"What? Never want to what?"

"I never want to learn how to say goodbye."

I closed Skype and then closed my eyes, laughing into the silence of my apartment.

CHAPTER 12

Hannah

"YOU HAVE PLANS for the Fourth?" Matt asked as we drove through the city. He'd arrived at my house at noon sharp and stood by his car waiting for me. I got the definite impression that he was avoiding my family—or humanity in general.

He looked edible, as usual.

He wore a light pair of charcoal gray slacks and a pale dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I felt reasonably sure his shoes were Ferragamos, though I wasn't about to ask, and the timepiece on his wrist could have doubled as an anchor.

I, on the other hand, was wearing a tiny yellow sundress from Macy's. Excellent, I probably looked like Matt's niece.

I was carrying my big slouchy purse because Matt had insisted I bring the sex toys. God, I had to find out what this guy did for a living. He dressed like sex, drove the sexiest car I'd ever been in, and bought me the Cadillac of sex toys without blinking.

Besides, it was starting to feel weird to have these repeated intimate encounters with a man who was still so much of a stranger.

"The Fourth?" I said, trying to peel my eyes off his bare forearms. "I don't think so. We can see one of the shows decently well from our deck. I guess we'll do brats and hamburgers, that's all we usually do." I had honestly forgotten about the Fourth of July, along with everything else in the world, thanks to Matt. "What about you?"

"No plans."

"You have any family around here?" I said, watching his face.

Matt kept his eyes on the road. Nothing changed in his expression.

"No, not around here. Two brothers on the east coast."

"Brothers? That's cool. You guys get along? Are they older or younger?"

I wanted to fire a zillion questions at him.

"This place is good," Matt said. We had pulled up near a Mediterranean deli. Conversation over.

After lunch, Matt took my hand and began dragging me along the sidewalks of Denver with trademark impatience.

"Matt," I huffed. "Short legs over here."

"Don't I know it." He winked at me.

We stopped suddenly outside a midsized corner building. Stylish landscaping drew my eyes toward a statue near the stairs. It was a stone wing jutting up from a small fountain.

No. Way.

I looked to the lettering engraved above the doors.

The Granite Wing Agency.

"Matt, what are we—"

He didn't hear me. He'd moved off a few feet and was on his phone. I heard him laugh.

"Yes," he said. Then, "Right, right. I didn't want to deal with your secretary. Oh, moving down in the world?"

After some more banter and a terse laugh, Matt dropped the phone into his pocket. He took my hand and led me into the building.

I was babbling wildly. I don't think Matt was listening, though he smiled down at me from time to time. Was it his smile making my knees weak, or being inside the agency rumored to represent M. Pierce?

And the M. Pierce rumor was only a footnote to the agency's reputation. Pamela Wing and her partner, Laura Granite, represented some of the biggest names in literary fiction. They were notorious for calling talent in the air and cutthroat in their negotiations. Oh, and they ruthlessly poached writers from other agencies, all from their humble Denver hub.


"Matt, what are we doing here?" I demanded.

My voice echoed around the lobby. Matt frowned at me.

"I told you I had some connections in the city."

I felt the color draining from my face.

Connections? Employment connections? Here, now?

"No, no no. I am not dressed for this moment," I said. "Please, let me just—"

I rummaged in my bag. Did I have anything that could lend me a shred of professionalism right now? Or maybe a weapon to dispatch myself? My hand closed around the purple vibrator and I nearly yanked it out for the world to see. Shit! Shit shit shit!

"Relax," Matt murmured.

"Matt, f*ck, how can I—"

I heard heels clicking through the marble lobby and looked up to see a blond woman approaching. She and Matt shook hands briskly.