ONE
DAEMON
Six months.
Six months of showing up at every event Lucky Break had any business being at. Of finding reasons to be wherever Nadia Becker was working, and volunteering for setups I would once have handed off to anyone. Of arriving early and leaving late and telling myself it was professional courtesy.
Six months of her saying no.
Her refusals were always polite. She delivered them with the same level voice she'd used to coordinate supplies in a war zone. She stated facts until I ran out of ground to stand on. She didn't create conflict; she just ended it.
Sorry, too busy.
Not a good idea.
Not with your reputation, Daemon.
That last one had stung more than it should have, mostly because she wasn't wrong. It didn't seem to matter that I'd cut back on what I euphemistically called dating. The cutting back had started after I first saw Nadia working at the official opening of the Donovan Warehouse.
Just like that night, I'd been watching her work the room for the past two hours. Lindsey Hunter's book launch had taken over the entire ground floor and basement of the warehouse, and Nadia's team had turned it into exactly what Lindsey had asked for.
Warm lighting, food that looked too good to eat and tasted even better, and everything running like clockwork thanks to the person in charge.
That person was standing near the bar, gorgeous in her monogrammed navy jumpsuit, the one-piece skimming her curves in a way that had my mouth watering more than the food did. If she knew what effect she had on me, she didn't show it.
Instead, she stood with a tablet in hand, watching her staff the way she must have under far more challenging conditions.
I knew about Nadia's military background. I'd asked around, because of course I had. I also knew she'd caught me watching her at least three times tonight and chosen not to acknowledge it, which was its own kind of answer.
"You're doing that thing again," said a voice beside me.
I turned. Lindsey Hunter, the guest of honor, stood at my elbow with a glass of champagne in one hand and a small notebook in the other. She was sharp-eyed, with a way of looking at people like she was taking notes. Given the notebook, and that she made her living writing steamy romances, she probably was.
"What thing?" I said, not wanting to know the answer.
"The thing where you look at her like she's the only person in the room and then pretend you weren't." She sipped her champagne. "I've been watching you all evening. It's very convincing if you don't know what you're looking for."
"I'm checking the setup, that's all."
"Mm," she murmured, clearly not buying it. "How long?"
"How long what?"
"Seriously?" she nodded toward Nadia. "How long has it been like this between the two of you?"
"There's nothing between us."
Lindsey smiled the way people do when they're too polite to call you a liar to your face. "Of course not," she said, and drifted toward a group of guests.
I watched her go with mild unease. Sure enough, twenty minutes later, she did exactly what I'd been afraid she would.
Nadia had come out from behind the bar setup to check the appetizer station near the windows, and Lindsey materialized beside her, the timing was too neat to be coincidence.
Nadia smiled, said something, and gestured toward the food the way she did with clients. Then Lindsey said something that had Nadia freeze, eyes wide.
No way in hell was I standing by while Lindsey stirred up who knew what sort of trouble. I crossed the room in ground-devouring strides.
"There he is," Lindsey said pleasantly when I arrived. "I was just telling Nadia that I've been doing research for my next book, and the two of you have been enormously helpful."
