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Mason shared a wolfish grin with Graham and Tai. “Oh, it’s on.”
Kate looked between her and Mason. “Avery should go, too. A little FBI action’ll help rattle his cage.”
“Definitely,” Mason agreed quickly. He cocked his head, his expression endearingly boyish. “Would you do me the honor of being my plus one?” he asked her.
Go as Mason’s date? No brainer there. But this wasn’t a date. And there were too many dangers.
Fenn jerked a thumb at Mason. “Fair warning. He can’t dance.”
“Dancing’s overrated,” Mason cut back.
“Not if you do it well.” Tai put a hand to his face, blocking Mason from view. “Which he can’t.”
“Whatever,” Mason muttered.
Much as she wanted to join in their light-hearted banter, she couldn’t imagine showing up to rile Stenberg when she’d been ordered off the case. “What if someone from the Bureau recognizes me?”
Mason scoffed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “This is a thousand-dollar-a-plate affair,” he said, his voice dry and knowing. “When’s the last time anybody at the Bureau rubbed elbows with that crowd?”
Fair enough. The donors at the gala were so far removed from her world that they might as well be on another planet. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Great. It’s a date. You. Me, and five special ops soldiers listening in on comms.”
Avery nodded, her cheeks flushing with a heat that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. A date. With Mason. The thought sent a thrill of excitement through her, a sense of anticipation that she hadn’t felt in a long time.
But even as she basked in the glow of his smile, she couldn’t shake the nagging sense of unease that tugged at the edges of her mind. The longer she spent with Mason and his team, the harder it would be to go back to her old life.
The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted Avery’s self-assessment. Fenn’s sharp blue gaze swept over the two of them. “You two are going to need some serious wardrobe help. The rest of us, too.”
The gala. They’d need clothes. She considered her closet back at her condo. There was one black dress that might do …
Tai grimaced. “The gala’s black tie. Stores’ll be closing in a couple hours. Where are we going to find gowns and tuxes this late?”
Fenn sketched an elegant bow and waggled his cell phone. “Ladies. Gentlemen. Leave this to me.”
“You can phone in a tux order?” Mason sounded skeptical.
Fenn’s handsome mouth dropped open. “Uh. No. We’re not wearing off the rack. Do you have any idea how bad we’d look?”
Mason made a sound. “Who cares?”
“Uh, me? But that’s not important now.” Fenn turned his back on Mason, clearly a lost cause, and addressed the rest of them. “Unless you want to look like rent-a-guards, we’ll be wearing tailored tuxes. The mobile tailor will be here in less than an hour. Don’t worry,” Fenn added, addressing Avery. “He’ll have a whole rack of choices for you, too.”
Although she was closer to Mason’s who-cares style of fashion than Fenn’s haute couture, his thoughtfulness touched her.
Mason, not so much. He glared at his friend. “You’re enjoying this way too much, Scarborough.”
Fenn looked up from his phone. “Copy that.”
Kate looked almost as glum as Mason. “This means serious heels.”
Paige’s face fell, too. “Ugh.”
“Look on the bright side,” Tai said. “Stilettos make for nice weapons.”
“Yo, guys.” Paul waved to get the room’s attention. “What about me?”
Mason stiffened. “What about you?”
