“Maybe you’ll find a sexy neighbor to keep you busy,” I say, going for distraction.
“Nah,” he mutters. “A woman isn’t on the docket for me.”
“A man then?”
His head jerks and he grins at me. “You’re a child.”
“A child,” I say, reaching for my phone and shoving it into my pocket, “who’s going to get the fuck out of here and take your advice about going and getting my woman.”
He grins, stands up. “Damn right you are. And keep me on speed dial if you need any further advice.”
“You mean if you want to demand any further details?”
“Both things can be right.”
I snort, push to my feet, but before I can snipe back, there’s a knock. I look…just in time to see the door push inward.
A flash of curls.
A gorgeous woman.
Who’s scowling at me.
“Your security sucks,” she snaps, pushing fully inside. “Do you know that I was just able to park, access this building—which has a directory listing your fucking floor!—and take the elevator, walk over, and enter your office without a single person stopping me.” She tosses up her hands. “You’re the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar business with the personal net worth that’s more than most people can even dream about amassing in their lifetimes! Do you even care about your safety? What if some psycho got a wild hair and decided to come up here and?—”
Brooks chuckles.
And I have to force down my own amusement when I watch her face change as she realizes we’re not alone.
Pink cheeks. Horror traipsing through her expression. She closes her eyes for a heartbeat. Two. Then her chin comes up and her shoulders straighten.
She extends her hand toward Brooks. “Marie.”
“Brooks,” he says, lips twitching, tone amused. “Nice to meet you.”
“I—uh—nice to meet you too.”
Silence falls, and I glare at my friend. Mostly because he’s still holding Marie’s hand.
And she doesn’t seem to be bothered by the contact.
“How do you know Jace?” he asks, even though he knows perfectly well, the bastard.
“We, um…” Bright pink cheeks and she finally tugs her hand back, eyes darting to the door, clearly looking for the exit. “Obviously, you guys are in the middle of something. I should”—she hitches a thumb over her shoulder—“go.”
My body jerks forward, every cell screamingabsolutely fucking not.
But Brooks beats me to doing or saying anything stupid. “I was actually just heading out.” He touches her shoulder, hovering close enough that I want to murder him for intruding onmywoman’s space. Then again when he says, “It was nice to put a name to a face. He talks about you all the time.”
Wide green eyes hit mine.
“And,” the fucker goes on, “don’t stop giving him crap about the security. I’ve mentioned that shit to him at least a half dozen times and there’s no change.”
Murder. Times three.
I swear to fuck.
But I don’t get the chance to throttle my best friend because he’s slipping out of the room without a backward glance at me.
