"A strategic decision I'm standing by."
"Standing very formally by.In very formal pants."
I should be focused on the mission—locate Duncan, gauge his reaction to our presence, extract information.
Instead, I find myself cataloging the subtle pressure of Karina's hand on my arm, the hint of jasmine in her perfume…and the way her mask transforms her pretty features into something mysterious.
And sexy as hell.
Doesn’t help that the almost-kiss in the car lingers between us, an unfinished conversation we're both pretending to ignore.
"Callum!"A familiar voice booms across the hall.
Connor Reeves approaches, his fiancée Ariana beside him.Both wear matching masks in sleek silver, making them look like fashionable superheroes.
"The man of the hour," Connor continues, clapping me on the shoulder."Or should I say, the man of the hashtag?"
"The hashtag is dead," I reply."We're burying it tonight."
"Seems very alive to me," Ariana comments, glancing around at the not-so-subtle smartphone cameras pointed our way."And you must be Karina Peters."
"Guilty," Karina smiles, extending her hand."The marketing director, not the social media saboteur."
"Jury's still out," I mutter, earning an elbow to my ribs.
Connor watches this exchange with undisguised interest."Well, this is cozy."
"Professional," I correct.
"Absolutely," Karina agrees."Strictly business."
Connor's eyebrow arches above his mask."Right.The kind of business that involves strolling hand-in-hand and lingering glances, I’m guessing?”
“Hey, I do not linger," I grunt.
"You absolutely linger," Ariana counters."You were lingering just now."
"I was assessing the security parameters of the venue."
"Through Ms.Peters' eyes?"Connor asks innocently.
Before I can formulate a suitably cutting response, more familiar faces materialize through the crowd.
"There he is," Grayson Dixon announces, his fiancée Roz at his side.Behind them, Alex Drake and his wife Mackenzie complete our usual circle."Seattle's most eligible Scotsman."
"Not eligible.”I glare."And as I told our equally pain-in-the-arse friend here, the hashtag is officially dead."
"Tell that to the gift basket in my office," Alex says."Someone sent you a life-sized chocolate kilt with your face on the wrapper."
"I hate everything about this sentence," I mutter.
Karina’s shoulders shake beside me."A chocolate kilt?That's actually impressive from a manufacturing perspective."
"Don't encourage them," I warn.
"Too late," Luke chimes in, appearing from nowhere in his typical fashion."We've created a dedicated Slack channel for tracking the merchandise."
Karina turns to me."You didn't mention your friends were enablers."
