Bruno finished peeing on his usual fenced tree, then started toward the next block, where he’d sniff and mark his otherspots.
As we walked, Sebastian cupped his coffee with both hands. “Actually . . . I’ve got a favor toask.”
“The mocha latte tipped me off.” I sighed. “Goahead.”
“I want to run a story idea by you.” He paused. “I mean, I guess Ihaveto run it byyou.”
That made me think of brainstorming sessions, which turned into the memory of Vance’s offer. Luciano and I had spent half the night weighing the pros and cons. The offer was tempting, but the job itself wasn’t something I would’ve sought out. Not to mention it belonged toSebastian. When I’d brought that up, Lu had reminded me of how putting Neal’s dreams before mine had resulted in a broken heart, a pile of debt, and a serious confidence problem. The creative director position could be a chance to mend at least two of those issues. If my breakup with Neal had taught me anything, it was that I had to put myselffirst.
I tuned out my unsettling thoughts. “Okay,” I prompted. “What’s theidea?”
“Since the common interest date worked outsowell foryou—”
I did not appreciate his sarcasm. For all he knew, François and I were gettingserious.
“—let’s try it with a spin. I want to demonstrate how a guy can use a hobby to get the attention of a girl who wants nothing to do withhim.”
I twisted my lips. I couldn’t really knock the common interest thing after the way I’d sung its praises. And it wasn’t a bad idea. Industries had been built on the underdog trying to win over his dreamgirl.
“Who’s the subject?” Iasked.
“Me.”
I tried not to laugh. “Is rejection a problem foryou?”
“Sometimes.”
“Give me one example of a woman who didn’t surrender to yourcharms.”
“Well, gee. There’s . . .” He raised his eyebrows. “You.”
I pulled back. “Me?”
“You told me yourself—you’ve never seen me flirtsuccessfully.”
Well, sure, I thought,that’s called a whitelie.
“The article has to be convincing, and who better to give me hell than you? I just have to do my best to win you over. All for the article, ofcourse.”
“For the article,” I repeated. I could see where he was coming from. And itwouldmake for an interesting piece. But playing Sebastian’s date for a night sounded as dangerous as it did fun. He thought I was immune to his charm? Hardly. I was just good at pretending to be. “Is there anyone else you could experimenton?”
“Not unless you can find me a dog lover who can’t stand me in the nexthour.”
“You want to do thisnow?” Iasked.
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Did I leave that partout?”
“Do we actually have to go out?” I asked. “Or can you walk me through how it wouldgo?”
“Depends. Are we publishing fictionnow?”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine, but I’m supposed to give up my Sunday for a fakedate?”
“You’re looking at it wrong. I’m giving you full clearance to critique my first-date moves—for the benefit of our entire readership, noless.”
Ididlike that idea. I chewed my bottom lip. “First of all, I’m in no state to do anything. I’m wearingsweatpants.”
“With ‘Royal Pain’ printed across the butt,” headded.
