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Andy was standing in the far corner of the room. Her back was to him, but he could still make out the way she pulled on the end of her ponytail as she surveyed a clipboard hanging from the wall.
He might have apologized, but she hadn't forgiven him. And even if he hadn't asked for those girls to show up, he could tell the kind of effect they'd had on her.
But why? She'd had her chance. He'd made his move and she denied him. What right did she have to be upset by him being surrounded by beautiful women?
He gave the room a quick study. Everyone’d gone now, though Andy apparently didn’t notice. If she had, there was no doubt she would have sprinted out the door like her sensible flats were on fire.
It was time to take advantage of his position. All this weirdness was over more than just a stupid little kiss, and if things were going to keep going in this direction, he was sure as shit going to figure out why.
"Hey there, sport," he called and Andy spun on her heel to face him.
Her gaze ping ponged around the room before finally landing on him again, and the little crease between her brows smoothed as her mouth fell open.
"Hey. Guess we're even." She held out a hand as if to shake and he stared at it for a long moment before staring up at her again.
"What the hell is that?" he said.
"A handshake. To end our deal," she answered.
"As far as I can tell, our deal still isn't over."
"What do you mean? I set up this whole thing, you had the photo shoot—"
"We're still in the studio, aren't we?"
"Well, let me fix that, then." She picked up a beige handbag from a nearby table, then hitched it onto her shoulder. "Nice working with you."
She turned to leave, but he called after her.
"What was the deal back there?"
She paused, her back still to him, and he watched as her shoulders tensed and released before she finally turned around again.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Bullshit."
"Well, if we're playing twenty questions, then why don't you tell me what the deal was with the other night? What was that all about?" she said.
"You answer mine and I'll answer yours."
"What, are we in grade school or something?"
"What are we in grade school or something?" he repeated.
For half a second, he thought she might stick out her tongue in response, but after a short pause she let out a breath and said. "I hate these things. Photographers are dicks."
"You didn't like the photographer?" He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest.
"No.
He gives me the creeps."
"Weird. You seemed totally fine with him. It wasn't until those girls came out that you seemed upset." He took a step toward her and she surprised him by not backing away.
Even more surprising was when she met his gaze full on.
"Jealous?" he prompted, trying to avoid the urge to smirk.
