Page 14 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Two

Her eyes widened. “I will get youback.”

“You can try,” he said, then hurried across the lawn towardMario while she tried to keep up with his long strides.

And the weirdest thing of all? He couldn’t remember the lasttime he’d had so much fun teasing a woman.

Chapter Five

“I couldn’t understand half of what Mario wassaying,” I tell Simon as he maneuvers the flat streets of North Hollywood in aridiculously boring Honda hybrid. Honestly, if I’d had to guess, I would havepicked Simon for having the typical jerky male penis-mobile.So I’m not entirely sure if I’m impressed that he’s not all about the flash ordisappointed that I read him wrong.

We’ve been out of the Malibu hills for a while, and I’mstill reeling a bit with how light and easy our conversation has been for thepast hour. We’ve talked about everything from my mysterious tormentor to localrestaurants to my utterly failed attempt at surfing. Weirdly, he’s easy to talkto, something I didn’t expect after our initial prickly encounters.

Then again, he’s probably doing the same thing I am—suckingit up for the sake of the job. After all, we’re stuck together. Might as wellmake the best of it.

“I’m pretty sure English is his second language,” Simonsays, pulling me back to my comment about Mario. “He was born speaking geek.And he speaks it damn well.”

“It sounded impressive, that’s for sure.” I think about thedark-haired man with the easy smile and intelligent eyes. “He’s so young,though. He heads up the entire Stark Security tech team?”

“He looks young, but I think he’s in his early thirties, andyeah. On the tech side, he’s the guy in charge. Pretty sure he started out asone of Stark’s protégés at Stark Applied Technology, then moved over here. Theguy knows his stuff.”

“Hmm.” I glance at Simon, trying to judge his age.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he said. “You’re wondering about my resume.”

“I am not,” I lie. “Except, okay, yeah. I am. I mean, Itrust Damien and Ryan, but…well, I have no idea why you’re qualified to dothis,” I say, gesturing at myself.

That dimple of his appears. “This being you?” We’re at a redlight, and he turns his head to look at me, his eyes skimming lightly over me,all the way from my head to my toes. “Believe me, Frannie, I’m verywell-qualified to do you.”

I glare at him, but that’s only to hide the fact that myentire body is tingling. A reaction to not only his use of my nickname, butalso from his slow inspection. A fact which has well and truly fired my veryfamous temper. Because this man is annoying, and I definitelydon’t want to be attracted to him. Really.

But apparently, I’m walking proof that you don’t always getwhat you want because, yeah. I’m attracted. Very attracted.

Which means my new goal is to keep that little factoid tomyself.

Fortunately, I’m saved from having to come up with acutting-yet-flirty comeback by the sharp chime of my phone. I frown, irritatedthat I forgot to put it on silent, then suck in a sharp breath when I see thetext message. “Fucker,” I mutter, then silence thething and shove it down into my purse.

“What was that about?”

“It’s nothing.”

He hits the brakes at a red light, then turns to face me.“Fight with a friend or a shitty contract negotiation?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Then tell me,” he demands.

“Excuse me? It’s really none of your—”

“Isn’t it?”

I start to snap that being harassed by irritating reportersisn’t something I’m keen to share, then wince as the truth smashes into me withthe force of a wrecking ball. “I’m an idiot,” I say.

“Is that so? Want to tell me why?”

I don’t, but considering I hired him for this very thing, Isuppose I need to. “There’s a reporter who’s been trying to get me to talk tohim,” I admit. “About some stuff that happened a long time ago.”