Say the Word(108)

“There won’t be cameras.” I pulled out a page from the dossier that I’d stashed away in my purse before leaving my apartment. I held it out so he could look it over, pointing to a highlighted section. “See? It’s apparently part of the club charter. Too many important people are members — they’d never feel safe if potentially illegal actions were being recorded. The only cameras are on the perimeter.”

“You’re putting blind trust in the research of a guy you don’t even know.” Bash shook his head. “How can you be sure it’s accurate?”

“I know Fae — I trust Fae,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “If she says we can trust him, we can trust him.”

Bash stared at me for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. “You’re the same,” he muttered eventually, his eyes incredulous.

“What?”

“You haven’t changed a bit in all these years. You’re still stubborn as a mule — set in your ways and utterly impossible to negotiate with once you’ve made up your mind about something. Pigheaded, really.” He cracked a smile.

I glared at him.

“Relax, it’s refreshing.” His grin widened. “Take it as a compliment.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment if you agree to help me,” I suggested.

“I’ll agree to help you if you go out on a date with me,” he countered.

“I’m not going out with you.”

“Come on, it can just be a friends thing. If we choose to get naked afterward, so be it.”

“You’re terrible.” I tried to contain my smile, instead forcing a stern glare in his direction. “I think I preferred it when we were ignoring each other’s existence.”

“Don’t you need my help?” Bash steepled his hands on the tabletop and leaned forward. “You should be nice to me if you want me to get you into Labyrinth.”

“You really think you can get us in just because your family is on the list?” I felt the rush of banked excitement stirring to life within me.

“It’s worth a shot.” Bash leaned back in his chair and let out a deep breath. “A photographer and a journalist whose last column detailed the many attributes of Channing Tatum’s physique, up against the most powerful people in the world. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Have a little faith.” I laughed. “And it was Ryan Gosling, not Channing Tatum.”

Bash snorted. “My mistake.”

“So when are we doing it?”

“Baby, we can do it anytime you like,” Bash said, a familiar heat filling his eyes.

“Please, be serious,” I implored.

“Fine, fine,” he said, laughing. “I guess we can go Friday.”

“Friday’s no good,” I immediately countered.

“Hot date?” he asked, his brows raised and his eyes suddenly serious.

I laughed. “Oh yeah. Me and about three hundred Luster coworkers, affiliates, and sponsors, sipping champagne and toasting 100 years of success.”

Comprehension flared in his eyes. “Centennial.”

“You’re going?” I asked.

“Pick you up at six,” he said, winking.

“What?” I stared at him. “I don’t need a ride, I’m going with Simon and Fae.”

“They’ll get over it.” Bash pushed back his chair and stood, reaching out to grasp my hand. “Those were my terms. I get you in, you go on a date with me. This is the date I’m choosing. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

I allowed him to tug me from my seat. “I never agreed to a date, and I most definitely did not agree to a public appearance. There’ll be cameramen at the curb, photographing important people as they arrive. You, sir, are considered important — though for the life of me, I can’t fathom why.” I stuck my tongue out in his direction.

“I see your insults haven’t improved with age,” he noted dryly. “And as for Centennial — take it or leave it, Freckles. You need me, not the other way around.”

I deliberated for a moment. “Can we at least avoid the curbside cameras?”

He grinned, sensing that I was about to give in to his terms. “I’ll consider it.”

“We still haven’t picked a date for Labyrinth.”

“Eager to see me again so soon, huh?”

“You’re hysterical.” I rolled my eyes. “What about Wednesday?”

“Tomorrow? No can do,” he said, shaking his head.

“Hot date?”

His grin turned wolfish. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

I would, actually, but I wasn’t telling him that. “Nope, couldn’t care less,” I said breezily.

He laughed.

“Thursday,” I suggested, following him out the door onto the street.

“Works for me.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and brought his face closer to mine. “Where are you going now?”

“Home.”

“Are you sure?” He leaned in, hovering close enough that if I raised myself the slightest bit up onto my toes, our noses would brush. “We could continue our business meeting at my loft.” His lips skimmed my cheekbone.