Charm: Did he flirt at all?
Charm: If yes, he is a perfect fling.
I stared at the messages for one beat too long.
Cade’s mouth curved. “Do I want to know?”
“No.”
“That means yes.”
“That means my friends are unwell.”
“About me?”
“About everything.”
Another message popped up.
Charm: Also do NOT forget your dad wants potatoes.
I locked the phone and dropped it face-down on the coffee table. “We should go over release forms before my friends start live-commentating my downfall.”
“Your downfall?”
“For the project.”
“For school,” he said, nodding solemnly.
“Yes.”
“Academic downfall.”
“Exactly.”
His eyes warmed. “I’ll do it.”
The words landed softly.
I blinked, too scared to smile yet. “You’ll do it?”
“I’ll be your project.”
“My subject,” I clarified, as if the word made a difference when the chemistry was perfect.
“That sounds worse.”
“It sounds professional.”
“It sounds like you’re going to tag and release me into the wild when it’s over.”
“I might.”
His mouth twitched. “Fine. I’ll be your subject.”
I should have felt excited because of the assignment, and I was. Beneath the academic relief and the thrill of knowing Professor Simpson would probably approve my concept, there was something else too. Something warmer. Something softer. Something that had nothing to do with human-interest pieces and everything to do with the fact that Cade Mercer had just given me access to parts of him everyone else only guessed at.
Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous.
