No Strings__ - By Janelle Denison Page 0,7

me something?” she blurted out, before she could think better of what she was about to ask. Or why it was so important to her. It just was.

“Sure,” he said, taking her request very seriously.

Exhaling a deep breath, she put her concerns out in the open before she changed her mind. “Promise me when everything is said and done, if one of us ultimately gets the St. Raphael account, it won’t change our working relationship. Or our friendship,” she added, because she definitely considered him that, too.

He tipped his head, a reassuring smile on his lips. “You should know by now that I don’t operate that way, or hold professional grudges.”

She knew that to be true, but his words relieved her, anyway. “I don’t, either,” she said, and allowed a sassy grin to surface, as well as her competitive nature. “But I hate to see a grown man cry, and I’m sure you’ll be reduced to tears when I’m awarded the campaign.”

Aiden chuckled, clearly amused with her prediction. “Chloe, Chloe, Chloe,” he chided in a deep voice as smooth as aged whiskey, and just as intoxicating. “Just for the record, I have absolutely no intention of losing, to the other firm, or to you.”

Now this, a direct challenge, she could handle. “We could spend the rest of the night arguing over that, but let’s make this short and simple. May the best woman win.” She extended her hand toward him.

His much larger hand engulfed hers in a sensual warmth that traveled all the way up her arm, and he leaned in close, his eyes dancing with his own brand of wit and daring. “With the emphasis on man, though I’m sure it’ll be a fight to the finish.”

She withdrew her hand from his, doing her best to ignore the heat and awareness his touch had so effortlessly aroused in her. “Oh, yeah, you can count on that.”

Game on.

* * *

“SO, WHAT BRINGS YOU to my neck of the woods?” Sam Landry, Aiden’s younger brother by two years, eyed him curiously across the scarred wooden table where they were seated at McGann’s Pub in downtown Boston. “Don’t you usually spend your Friday evenings at that fancy Executive Bar where you work, schmoozing with colleagues?”

Aiden grinned at Sam’s exaggerated description as he lifted his cold bottle of Guinness to his lips for a drink, enjoying the taste of the dark, rich stout. His brother, a P.I., never missed an opportunity to rib Aiden about his white-collar profession, especially since it was such a departure from the proud family tradition.

Their grandfather had been a decorated cop for the Boston Police Department, then their father, Jack, followed by Sam—until his brother had been shot on the job and the injury had forced him to reevaluate his career and future. Even though Sam no longer worked for BPD, he was still entrenched in the business as a private investigator who often used his past connections with the force to help him in the current cases he worked on.

Everyone had assumed that Aiden would carry the same torch for justice and head off to the police academy once he graduated college. Instead, he’d shocked everyone when he made the decision to major in advertising and marketing over criminal justice his junior year. The big difference between him and Sam was that Aiden loved the creative aspect of his career, while his brother preferred the constant movement of chasing bad guys and the unexpected twists that came with detective work.

While Aiden’s parents had always been supportive about his choice of job and his accomplishments, he knew he’d initially disappointed his father by venturing outside the realm of law enforcement. And being the so-called black sheep who’d strayed from family expectations, it made him an easy target for his brother’s good-natured needling, which he’d grown used to.

Aiden set his bottle of beer back on the table and shot Sam a halfhearted look of irritation. “Do you always have to give me shit because I sometimes prefer a good beer over aged Scotch and want to visit with you?”

“Yeah, I do, because it doesn’t happen often,” his brother answered, his gaze flickering with amusement. “I gotta get my licks in where I can.”

Aiden just shook his head, because despite their differences in personality and profession, and his brother’s penchant for busting his chops, he and Sam had always been close. Aiden, being the firstborn, was far more serious than his carefree, easygoing sibling, but there was no denying that