He didn’t answer that. She didn’t press. The band shifted into something with more warmth, and he could feel the tension in her body changing—not leaving, but loosening. Settling into something that wasn’t fight or flight.
“Zodiac Tactical, huh?” she said, trying the name out. “Sounds like a comic book.”
“I’ll pass your feedback along to the founder.”
“You should. It’s terrible.” She tilted her head. “So you’re what—private military? Mercenary? Professional babysitter for rich people?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s three answers. Pick the one you like.”
“I don’t like any of them.”
“And yet you’re still dancing with me.”
Her fingers shifted against his lapel. Not pulling away. Adjusting. Settling. “So why aren’t you out there babysitting your rich person right now?”
“My team has the principal covered.”
“Your team.” She said it like she was cataloging a new piece of information. “How many?”
“Enough.”
“And they don’t need you?”
“They always need me. I’m delightful.”
That one cracked her. A real smile—not the performed laugh he’d watched her give the man in the gray suit from across the room. This was smaller, half-caught between her teeth, and it changed her whole face.
“There it is,” he said.
“There’s what?”
“That. The smile. The real thing. Not the one you use for…work.”
The amusement faded, but not all the way. Something stayed in her eyes. “You think you know the difference?”
“I know the difference.”
She held his gaze for a beat. He watched her decide not to argue the point. “What about you? Is this who you actually are, or is this the charm you put on with the tuxedo?”
“I don’t dance with clients.”
“Just pickpockets.”
“Alleged pickpockets.”
Her mouth curved again. Wider this time.
They were closer than when they’d started. He could feel the warmth of her through the fabric of her dress, could feel the way her breathing had slowed, could feel her hand softening against his chest. The band played, and the crowd moved around them,and the room full of strangers had nothing to do with anything happening in this corner of the dance floor.
“I’m going to assume you won’t tell me why you do this,” he said. “Rather than actual event planning or something.”
“No.”
“And if I asked nicely?”
