Bernie cleared his throat, his own eyes going a bit misty. “Well, my work here is done. Be good, you two.”
After they were left to themselves, Hartgrave caught her up for another hug. Less desperate this time. More buoyant. He actually spun her around.
But then he heaved a sigh and said, “He’s right, you know. I probablywillmuck it all up again. My only relationship experience was with an assassin.”
It wasn’t funny, it really wasn’t, least of all because the assassin was dead, but all she could do at this admission was crack up. And then he was laughing, too.
“I can promise you this, Emily Helena Daggett,” he said, once he could get a word out. “I will do my very best.”
“I know.” She tucked her head against his shoulder. “Me too.”
They stood like that for a while before he spoke again. “Did Ballantine tell you how we’re reorganizing the Organization?”
“No,” she said, interested. “How?”
“We offered to transfer all the technicians to the microchip firms, but to a company, they prefer to continue outsourcing—assuming a less exorbitant charge. So that’s what we’re doing. Seems to solve the problem of financing murder-free magical oversight.”
“That’s fortunate,” she said.
“As a result, we have an opening for a researcher.”
Her brain stuttered at that. She gaped at him, trying to tell if he was teasing.
“Forget university work.” He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, setting off a reaction that was nothing like the last time he’d followed through on the simple gesture. “Make more breakthroughs with magic.”
Oh, that was enticing. A dream job. But one large objection loomed, and there was no arguing it away.
“I shouldn’t be working for you,” she said, unable to make the declaration anything but mournful. “That’s bound to blow up on us.”
His endearing almost-smile made an appearance. “You wouldn’t be working for me. I’m not in charge here.”
She stared at him, shocked. After all the times he’d insisted on his way ... “Whoisin charge?”
“Willi’s CEO, Ballantine’s the chairman. They have to agree on any major decision.” He cocked his head. “You think it’s a bad idea?”
“No, I think it’s a great idea,” she said, seeing in it zero chance of history repeating itself. “I just can’t figure out how they got you to agree to that.”
“Isuggestedit.”
She shot him a tell-me-another-one look.
“I’m serious!” He appeared to be, too. Very serious, in fact. “If I’m temporarily the most powerful convincer—wizard—on earth ...”
Comprehension dawned. She laced her fingers with his. “You don’t want to become Kincaid.”
“Never.”
He sounded so vehement, so earnest, she had to kiss him.
“Daggett,” he murmured as he pulled back, lips still very close to hers, “you’d better get the restitution out of me now, before I lose the courage to tell you every wretched detail of my life.”
“It’s the right thing to do. You’ll see.”
“Yes, it’s just that I have this odd aversion to relating tales of my own massive stupidity and negligence.” He looked away. “I can’t even figure out where to begin.”
She cleared her throat. “‘Once upon a time’?”
Perhaps it was her sheepish manner, or perhaps the absurdity of the suggestion. Either way, she made him laugh again.
