She nodded slowly. “True.”
“And,” he added, “you buy me dinner.”
“Like a date?”
A date between him and Akira. The idea should be laughable. It shouldn’t make him want to smile wolfishly at the prospect. He controlled his reaction. “Yes.”
She pondered that. “I don’t do dates.”
The words that fell from his lips were so uncharacteristically arrogant, it was as if someone else were speaking them. “You will.”
Her nod was slow, her expression considering. “You’ll probably fail.”
It took him a second to realize she was agreeing to his asinine proposal. He bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t let out a whoop.
“I have confidence in my abilities.” He flexed his fingers. “And good hands.”
Her eyes lingered on his hands. “One week.”
Not long enough. “Two weeks.”
She lifted her chin. “Ten days.”
Hmm. Ten days would be tight, but he’d made a rookie error in starting negotiations at what he actually wanted. She wouldn’t agree to a longer length of time as a matter of pride now. “Ten days. Not counting the days we don’t meet up.”
“A day counts as any time we’re in each other’s presence.”
“Do we need to have our legal teams draft a contract?” he asked, joking.
For a second, he thought she was going to get her lawyer on the phone. But instead, she gave a slow shake of her head. “I think we can call this a gentleman’s agreement.”
“So…deal?”
She worried her lower lip between her teeth, a rare sign of indecision. “Deal.”
He looked down at the box so he could hide his relief. “We could start tonight. It looks like you have some food here,” he said, perusing the desk. “It’ll get cold. I haven’t had dinner yet.”
A smile stretched across her face, and he watched, fascinated. It was a real smile, unlike any she’d ever graced him with before. There and gone in a flash, it didn’t last long.
He’d see it again, he vowed grimly.
“Fishing for a dinner invitation?”
“In the most subtle of ways.”
“So we can be friends,” she said, skeptical.
That sounded right. Comfortable. Not scary or intimidating, for either of them. “Yes.”
“Well…”
He waited with bated breath as she considered his proposal.
“I suppose I do have enough food to feed an army,” she said.
Confused, he looked down at the half-a-dozen containers on the desk. This amount of food would barely feed half his family. “I’m sure we can put a dent in it,” he replied, in lieu of confessing he was a gluttonous pig who could easily manage to pack away these calories for a moderate-sized lunch.
Her shoulders rose. “There aren’t any plates.”
