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She laughs. “That’s not a suit. He’s a linebacker for thePatriots.”
Of course heis.
I turn back to her posters, my attention lingering on the final one. “So, what happens in NewYork?”
“It ends like every date. With a kiss.” She peers up at me, and desire snakes down myspine.
Now I’m thinking about thekiss.
Not how itfelt.
How careless I was to waste it given I’ll never get to kiss heragain.
Before I can process that uninvited thought, she gestures to one of the banners. “This one got injured in the line ofduty.”
I go to pull on the top of it, and it unrolls a little. “We can fixit.”
“Or I’ll just leaveit.”
“But… it’s Rome.” She raises a brow. “You can’t leave it there,” I say,exasperated.
“Fine. Let’s fix it.” She puts up a “Back in 10 Minutes” sign and grabs thebanner.
I take it from her, and she starts toward the doorway. Her dress is low cut at the back, revealing inches of pale skin before clinging to the curve of her ass as shewalks.
She glances back. “Youcoming?”
I follow her through the lobby and past a desk manned by a security guard, presumably to watch over theoffices.
She leads the way to a supplycloset.
Where the last room was luxury, indulgence, this one’s all efficiency, simplicity, packed to the brim with useful, unfussythings.
I prefer itimmediately.
I set the banner down, and my gaze scans thecloset.
“See anything?” she asks. “We need to tapeit.”
“That won’t work,” I say,dismissive.
“Whynot?”
“There’s too much force. It’ll snap shutagain.”
My attention lands on a music stand. “I don’t know what this is doing here, but I can useit.”
I MacGyver the thing, and she watches in admiration. “Who says PhDs aren’tpractical?”
The comment should chafe, but I feel a hit of warmth at herpraise.
Ridiculous.I’m fixing paper Rome, not the real thing for fuck’ssake.
“Any luck scheduling a date?” I ask as we rig up thebanner.
“Fridaynight.”
“Who ishe?”
