Bang (Blast Brothers #2) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,40

didn't like the way he said it, almost like it was the title of a bad porno flick, starring her and him. In a tight voice, I replied, "She is the one you claimed to have had coffee with."

"I did not."

I gave him a good, long look. "You did. Right here in this office. Less than twenty-four hours ago."

"Oh, that?" he laughed. "No, what I said was I met her at the coffee shop, which I did."

He could laugh all he wanted, I didn't see the humor. "You know damn well how you made it sound."

"Do I?"

When my only reply was a murderous look, he said, "Hey, relax. I did meet her, just like I said."

"Right," I gritted out. "While you were on a date with someone else."

"It wasn't a date," Chase said. "It was a business meeting."

I recalled Cami's description of Chase's companion. "You mean the blonde in the bikini."

"Not just any bikini," Chase said. "A thong bikini."

Already, I was tired of his bullshit. "So I heard."

"Oh, relax," he said. "It really was a business thing."

Now this, I had to hear. "Oh yeah? What kind of business?"

"I was thinking of doing a tool calendar, the old-fashioned kind, with chicks in bikinis."

"Chicks?" My voice was flat. "In bikinis."

"Sure," he said. "You've seen them, right?"

"Chicks in bikinis?"

"No," he said, looking surprisingly sincere. "Chicks in bikinis in calendars. You know, something for guys to hang by their tool box. C'mon, you know what I mean."

I did know. I'd worked plenty of construction, and I'd seen my share of calendars, but very few of them were from recent years.

I said, "Isn't that a bit old-fashioned?"

At the conference table, Chase gave an easy shrug. "Call it retro."

Now here's the thing with Chase. Half of his ideas were batshit crazy. But the other half – well, they made us a shit-ton of money. The challenge was figuring out which idea fell into which category.

I said, "So you were auditioning her for a spot in the calendar?"

"Her?" he said. "You mean Cami the nanny?"

As he said it, an image of Cami in a bikini popped into my head. Her bikini was red, and her body was tight and sweet. She looked so good, I felt myself swallow.

Fuck.

Through gritted teeth, I said, "I meant the blonde."

"Oh, her?" Chase said in mock innocence. "She wasn't auditioning."

Yeah, right. "So, what was she doing?" I said. "It had to be something, unless she wears a bikini everywhere."

"She's a photographer," Chase said. "And a model on the side. She showed up like that to illustrate the look she'd be going for."

"In the calendar."

"Exactly." He leaned back in his seat. "But now that you mention it, maybe Cami should audition."

I recalled mentioning no such thing. "For the calendar? You're joking, right?"

With a smirk, he said, "I don't know. Am I?"

If I had my way, there'd be no calendar. But the truth was, Chase had the final say when it came to marketing and publicity. It was the deal we'd struck, back in the beginning, and I had to give Chase credit. He'd worked more than his share of miracles on the promo front.

His biggest miracle was that cable show, Blast. When he'd first suggested it, I'd thought he was out of his mind.

If I'd had the veto power, I would've vetoed the idea on the spot.

But I hadn't, and Chase had managed to sell his brainchild to the Home Network, pitching it as a sexy remodeling show starring three hot, single brothers who didn't always get along.

Hot – his word, not mine.

At the time, I'd figured the show would last one season at best. That was four years ago. Since then, its popularity had only grown, along with the sales of Blast tools.

The show was free advertising on steroids, which meant that I'd been willing to sacrifice some of my privacy to keep it going.

But Cami's privacy – I wouldn't sacrifice that for anything.

It was for Willow's sake – and her safety. Or at least, that was my working theory on why I'd never let it happen.

As far as any other theories, they were best ignored.

I told Chase, "Let's get one thing straight. Cami – she's off limits."

"Do you mean only for the calendar, or…?" He let the question hang there, unfinished. I knew why, too. He was still goading me, although I couldn’t figure out why.

I mean, yeah, he'd been goading me for years, but the thing with Cami was holding his interest more than it should've.

I heard myself say, "You

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