Privilege (Special Tactical Units Division 2)

Noah seemed to have the answer to that question. The wrong answer. Not even the male subjects who’d come on to her had moved this fast or this definitively. She’d have to regain control of the situation quickly or the time she spent here tonight would be wasted.

“Thanks,” she said pleasantly, “but I’m going to get us some coffee.”

“I’ll do that. A double espresso for me—and a café latte for you A grande, with an extra shot of espresso and skim milk.” He winked. “And one sugar.”

She stared at him. “How did you know that?”

Noah laughed. Truly laughed. Ha ha ha.

It was not a comforting sound.

“That’s my secret. You just sit down, Bianca, and I’ll take care of everything.”

“It’s Ms. Wilde.”

She felt foolish as soon as she’d spoken. She’d given up the Bellini-Wilde thing months ago, once she’d decided it was occasionally confusing and often sounded too formal. For this study, she’d wanted to keep things as relaxed as possible, and she’d told all the other subjects she’d met with to call her by her first name.

Now, she really had to regain control, but hurting Noah’s feelings would be counterproductive. It was too late remedy that now. The best she could do was keep moving forward.

“Okay,” she said brightly. “One double espresso coming right up.”

She almost flew to the counter. Only one barista was on duty, and he gave a low whistle.

“Man,” he said, “how long were you out in that rain?”

“I know. Pretty bad, huh?”

“Pretty wet. You want something to dry off?” He reached under the counter, came up with a big stack of heavy-duty paper towels. “Be my guest.”

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing the towels and blotting her hair, her face, her jacket.

Chay’s jacket.

She ducked her head, tucked her nose inside the collar. The denim smelled like summer rain and like him.

Had he really come all this way to make sure she wasn’t pregnant? It was such an amazing thing to do…

“…BWW?”

She blinked and looked at the barista. He was a nice-looking guy, but she’d never seen a Cuppa Joe’s barista who wasn’t nice-looking.

“Sorry. Did you ask me something?”

“I said BBW are your initials, right? The ones I’ve printed on, what, a dozen cups? You’re a café latte grande. Extra shot of espresso. Skim milk. One sugar. Yes?”

“Yes. That’s nice. That you remember.” Bianca handed over her credit card. “And a double espresso for my, uh, for my friend.”

“Part of the job—although in your case…” The barista shook his head. “All these dudes,” he said in a quiet voice, “and a pretty lady like you still hasn’t found the right one?”

“These are business meetings,” she said quickly, and after the words left her mouth, she blushed. “Serious business meetings.”

“Whatever you say, BBW. But this dude tonight? Do yourself a favor. He’s an N-G.”

“An N-G?”

“A No Go. My advice is lose him, fast.”

Bianca glanced over her shoulder. Noah was seated at the table, arms folded, looking sullen.