Tangled (The Tangled Series)(69)

“Yes. We should get reacquainted as coworkers. Equals. Not a date. Kind of more like a business meeting between colleagues.”

Denial is a powerful thing. But at this point I’ll take what I can get. “So, what you’re telling me is you’ll go out with me on Saturday? That’s the bottom line, right?”

She hesitates. And then nods. “Yes.”

“Perfect. Don’t say anything else. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I’ll meet you.”

Interesting.

I speak slowly, “Now, Kate, I know you haven’t been on many dates, considering the moron you called a boyfriend had you engaged before you were out of a training bra. But in cases like this, the guy—that’s me—is supposed to pick you—the girl—up. It’s an unwritten law.”

See how her lips press together? How her shoulders square off? Oh yeah, she’s ready to rumble.

“I just told you this isn’t a date.”

I shrug. “Semantics.”

“Let’s say hypothetically it is a date. It would be a first date. And I would never have a man that I didn’t know come to my apartment to pick me up for a first date.”

I push a hand through my hair. “That doesn’t make any sense. You know me. We did sixty-nine. I’d say you know me pretty damn well.”

“Look, these are my terms. If you can’t live with them, we can just forget the whole—”

“Wait, wait. Let’s not be hasty. I give. You can meet me at my apartment. At seven. Sharp.”

“Okay.”

“But I have some terms of my own.”

She jumps down my throat. “I’m not having sex with you!”

I force myself to look surprised. “I’m wounded. Really. Who said anything about sex? I would never require sex as part of our agreement.”

And then I smile.

“It’s optional. Clothing too.”

She rolls her eyes. “Is that it?”

“Nope.”

“What else do you want?”

Oh, baby. If she only knew. Though it’s probably better that she doesn’t. Don’t want to scare her away.

“I want four hours. At least. Uninterrupted. I want conversation, dinner—appetizers, entrée, dessert—wine, dancing…”

She holds up her hand. “No dancing.”

“One dance. That’s non-negotiable.”

She looks at the ceiling, weighing her options. “Fine. One dance.” She points her finger at me. “But if your hands go anywhere near my ass, I’m out of there.”

Now it’s my turn to think it over. “Well…okay. But if you renege on any of my stipulations, I reserve the right to call do-over.”

She waits a moment. Her eyes narrow distrustfully. “And you’ll leave me alone—completely—until Saturday? No priests popping in to say hello? No ice sculptures melting outside my door?”

I smirk. “It’ll be like we never met. Like I don’t even work here.”

Chances are I won’t be here. I’m going to be a very busy boy.

Kate nods. “Okay.”

I hold out my hand. She shakes it and says, “It’s a deal.”

I turn her hand over gently and kiss the back—like I did the first night we met. “It’s a date.”

Have you ever walked into a room to get something, but once you’re there, you have no idea what you came for? Good. Then you’ll understand why I turn and start to walk out of the room.

Until Kate’s voice stops me. “Drew?”

I look back at her. “Yeah?”

Her face is downcast. “I don’t…I don’t enjoy hurting people. So…don’t get your hopes up about Saturday.”

Before I can open my mouth, movement out the window catches my eye. And I can’t believe I almost forgot. Wordlessly, I walk forward and take Kate’s hand. I bring her to the window and stand behind her, resting my hands on her shoulders.

I bring my mouth to her ear. My breath gives her goose bumps. The good kind.

“Too late.”

I wanted it to be simple. Something I would have carved on a tree or spray-painted on a wall if we were kids. But I needed it to be clear. A proclamation. Telling Kate and every other woman out there that I, Drew Evans, am off the field.

Kate gasps when she sees it.

Up there in the sky, in huge white letters, for the whole city to see:



Always go out on top. Have I told you this yet?

No? Well I’m telling you now.

I don’t care if you’re a businessman, a singer, or a top-rated television show—leave them wanting more. Never overplay your hand. You can always go back later for an encore, but once they’re sick of you, there’s no taking it back.

I kiss the top of her head. “I’ll see you Saturday, Kate.”

And she’s still staring out the window as I walk out.





Don’t worry—the show’s not over yet. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve, and I always save the best for last. You’re really not going to want to miss this.

I head straight for Erin’s desk. “I need you to get the florist on the phone. And the caterer. And set up an appointment for me—tonight—with that interior designer we talked about yesterday.”