Twisted Love (Modern Romance #3) - Piper Lawson Page 0,13

a hand over the bracelet, and his eyes warm. "Thanks again for—"

"My pleasure.”

My black pumps root to the floor, my traitorous skin tingling as he catches my hand and lifts it to his lips. Every part of me tightens in anticipation.

The second his mouth brushes my skin, the anticipation turns into something far more dangerous. I swear he lingers there, that sexy mouth touching me in the middle of my office.

"I'm glad you're my girl," he murmurs when he pulls back.

I can't pretend away the ribbon of heat chasing down my spine, settling at my core.

Each sensation adds to a screaming red WARNING sign, an indication I’ve made a huge mistake.

Which is an overreaction. A huge mistake is taking on the wrong client, or the year my accountant underestimated our corporate taxes and I had to work through my planned vacation to make up for it.

Not pretending to be attracted to my best friend.

Even if, since the other night, I can’t stop thinking about how lickable his body is.

4

“The interview is in three days. There’s no time to have the questions approved in advance,” the woman on the other end of the phone tells me.

“The sooner you can send the questions, the sooner we can approve them,” I reply as I trot out of the office at lunch, glancing at the clouds before dismissing them.

“We’re People magazine.”

“And I’m responsible for my clients. They’ll be as candid as possible, and knowing what you’re interested in will help them prepare. Getting married is a stressful time, and the kind of funny and charming anecdotes your readers will love don’t come out of nowhere. I want every person who opens this story to be delighted, not let down.”

As I reach the Met, the sky opens up, raindrops landing on my hair and face. My heels click on the concrete as I hurry up the steps and out of the rain.

Since the meeting this morning, we’ve already signed the contract and Vane sent me a deposit.

I asked the bride to coordinate a meeting, but she said I’d do better going to the groom’s admin directly, so my assistant reached out to find a time for the three of us to talk tomorrow.

I also reviewed my commitments over the coming weeks, arranged to bump one client, then huddled with Kendall and Rena to reallocate some of my work so they could take on more. I’ll owe them big time for this, but if we land Vane after this month, we’ll all be benefiting for the foreseeable future.

As I reach for the Met’s front doors, I’m glad to have had the walk outside. Today is rushing by and I need to breathe. This year is rushing by, really. Building a business makes it hard to stop or vacation or sleep.

Not that any of it’s about me. It’s about what we can do for clients.

I scan my membership pass on the way in. I’m a few minutes early, so I check my email when it dings with the questions from People. Scanning them has the tension in my gut dialing up, because these questions are personal—but nothing I can’t handle.

“You’re wet.” Ben’s voice over my shoulder has me turning.

“Forgot my umbrella.” He doesn’t have one either but is perfectly pressed, meaning he was dropped off or got here before it started. “I was just reading some questions for my new client.”

He swipes the phone from my hand. “‘How did you meet? What about the other person turns you on? What is his/her favorite thing? What’s their best and worst attribute?’ These are very specific.”

“If you’re dating, you know these things,” I correct, lifting the phone from his fingers. I head for the big staircase in the middle.

“Where are we going?”

“Impressionists. I need to unwind.”

He chuckles but gestures for me to go ahead.

“First, specificity is our friend,” I say as we take the stairs. “We’ll appear at the gala together, act cozy in front of your partners and Vane, and we’re done. There won’t be anyone there who would refute that we’re a couple, right?”

“Tris." Ben’s grimace has me suspicious.

“Hold on. So we need to make Tris think we’re dating too?” I come off the top of the stairs, rounding to face him so he nearly bumps into me. “No way. This is not what I signed on for, Ben."

"What's the difference?"

"The difference?" I notice people looking over and lower my voice. "The difference is that convincing work acquaintances for a single night is relatively straightforward. Convincing Tris—which