I glared at him.
“Devi,” he repeated, turning his attention back to her. “You look incredible.” His gaze wandered over her again.
“Thank you,” she said. She seemed uncomfortable. And maybe… flattered?
“You should come out with us tonight,” he told her.
What?
“Uh… what?” she said.
“We’re hitting this great cocktail bar. It’s in the old hotel next to the Crystal. Just opened up. It’s called the Burner Room. They’re having a grand opening party tonight. Ask for Mandy and let her know I invited you. She’ll show you right in past the lineup.”
“Right,” was Devi’s response. “I heard about that.” She didn’t seem to know what else to say. “But—”
“She can’t,” I interrupted. “She has work to do.”
Devi’s eyes hit me like flamethrowers.
“Actually,” I added, trying to ignore the fire coming off her, “Ihave work to do.”
Shane smirked at me. I didn’t even want to know what he was thinking. But I already knew what he was thinking.
He was thinking I was planning to do Devi tonight on that couch.
“This isn’t Toronto,” Devi informed me.
“Which means?” I inquired.
“It means,” she said, “we go home before midnight and we don’t sleep at the office.” She turned on her heel and strode out.
The nanosecond the door had clicked shut in her wake, Shane laughed. “Wow. She’s a fan, clearly. Are you firing her?”
“Is that all anyone thinks I do at this company?”
“Devi…” he mused. “What the fuck’s her last name?”
“Sereda,” I said tightly. I did not like him strolling down memory lane on this.
“Right. Didn’t one of us screw her in high school?”
“Christ.” I headed back around the desk, trying to look busy. “How many times have you been hit in the head now?”
“Too many. You weren’t even gonna introduce us?” he probed. Probably trying to figure out if I was staking a claim on this one.
“I generally try not to speak your name at all,” I muttered.
“Why?” His eyebrow went up. “Because of my impeccable reputation with the ladies?”
“Because Dane and Shane sound like a couple who dress alike.”
He laughed. “Come out tonight.”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll swing by the tower for you at ten,” he informed me, then turned and sauntered out the door.
“Do not bring your bike,” I called after him. “I am not riding bitch—”
