you know about LIDAR cameras and know the secret way to force Boss Man to walk on eggshells.”
This man was too much to be true. She laughed, wanting to cry.
Smooth and confident, everything that she wasn’t, he slid to her side. “I want to know why you think you have to hide and what it’d take to convince you that you can trust me.”
She swallowed hard. “That’s a lot.”
“It’s just dinner.” He waited, watching, protective and circumspect, reminding her of the few patient people she had in her life.
“Dinner.” She nodded, shocked that he’d suggested terms that she could accept. She pressed her hand against the drumming pulse in her throat and met his white-hot gaze, almost convincing her that he craved her touch as much as she wanted his. This was trust, and it was an aphrodisiac unlike anything she’d experienced. Amanda smiled. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“Actually, I’m Hagan.” He held out his hand.
“No!” Hadn’t she just swooned over trust?
“I never said I didn’t want to be me.”
True, but … “That wasn’t fair.”
“I have a feeling you know that better than most.” He waited for her to shake his hand.
Amanda wanted to protest. Compromise had no place when it came to personal and professional situations. But instead of recounting her rules or freaking out, she said his name and shook his hand.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
NINE YEARS AGO
GEORGETOWN GRAND HOTEL
Mandy hid from her prom date and the rest of her high school senior class in the last bathroom stall of the farthest bathroom she could find. She hadn’t run far enough. The muffled voice of the deejay echoed through the walls. Thumping bass and a muddled cheer answered him. Even with her hands over her face and eyes pinched closed, Mandy couldn’t escape the hell of senior prom.
She sat on the toilet. Her knees pinched together, and the thigh-high slit in her black dress mocked her, a pathetic reminder of her foolishness. Mandy sniffled. As if she could act like one of her classmates.
A loud knock pounded on the door, and she knew it was Dylan before he announced, “I’m coming in, Sparkler.”
He didn’t wait for her response. He never did, and his dress shoes echoed on the bathroom tile before she could yell, “Go away.”
Dylan knocked knuckles along the stalls as he strode toward her hiding place. “Do you want to talk?”
“No.” She dragged her fingers down her cheeks, rolling her eyes. “I’m not here. Go away.”
The stall next to her opened, then slapped shut. Mandy groaned. He hated when she ran away, and he never let her pout.
“You should leave. I’m really not here.” She stood up and retreated to the far wall. Below the stall partition, she saw his shoes and pants as he leaned the same way, opposite her.
“You’re not here?” Dylan whistled, low and long. “That’s going to frustrate the shit out of McNally. She’s been posted outside this bathroom and hasn’t let a soul in to pee.”
Mandy rolled her eyes. “No one’s coming into this bathroom to pee.”
“Then, she’s cockblocking the bathroom where girls drink from the flasks hidden in their dresses.”
“That’s more like it.” She snorted. “But, whatever, I don’t care. It’s not like I was going to win a prize as everyone’s favorite friend.” She smoothed her hands down her dress, then bunched the fabric between her fingers when tears streamed again. “Maybe for biggest fool.”
Dylan stepped to their dividing wall, lightly thumping his fists against it. She could picture the pensive way he searched for the right words, never treating her like a kid or sugarcoating his thoughts. Sometimes, though, he’d take forever to figure out what he wanted to say. “Spit it out, please. Then you can leave.” She swiped at her tears. “I really want to be alone.”
“That guy’s a first-class dickhead.”
She almost laughed. Dylan had absolutely chosen the right word. “I should’ve known better.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” He sighed. “No one should expect to have their privacy invaded like that.”
“Yeah.” She snorted. “I think I should expect it.” Her cheeks flamed, and she’d never forget the moment she realized her prom date had set her up. His cell phone was already recording before he’d convinced her to slip from the ballroom and into his arms. “What kind of stunt will I have to pull tomorrow to change the headlines?” Surely, they’d run the gamut from The First Daughter’s First Kiss to The First Daughter Bares All.
“Fitzgerald got the kid's phone. You don't have to worry about the video