The Dealmaker (Sex & Bonds 1)

The lobby is still packed. I turn the corner and step down into the large bar and restaurant area that overlooks the ocean. The doors are already thrown open to the glorious morning, but the bar itself is mostly empty, save for a guy in a familiar grey T-shirt at one of the tables toward the back, his sunglasses pushed up onto his head.

Theo is typing furiously on his phone. A pair of indents deepen between his brows as he brings the phone to his ear and looks up. Why do our gazes always do that thing where they meet across a room? It’s like my eyeballs are a homing beacon for his or something.

I consider turning around and finding that coffee spot in town, time be damned. But then my phone rings and I see that it’s Theo. I bite back a smile—goddamnit—and answer.

“Hey.”

He’s still looking at me from across the room. “Hey. I’m working in the bar for a bit if you want to join me.”

“I’m not sure I have much of a choice.” I glance over my shoulder at the throngs that have taken over the lobby. “Think I can pay someone to stay in their room?”

“Don’t waste your money. My suite’s got a perfectly comfortable couch.”

I scoff. “You’re really going to make me sleep on the couch?”

“There’s a decent-sized bathtub too.”

“You’re the worst.”

He’s grinning, all traces of his earlier awkwardness gone, and I get that wobbly feeling in my knees again. “I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “You find me some of those Walgreens thirty-sevens I’m short, and you get the bed. For tonight, anyway.”

My smile wins against my valiant effort to suppress it. “That’s a terrible deal for you. I’ll have those bonds in hand within the hour.”

“Make it happen.”

I hang up the call and head for his table. “I can’t wait to see you curled up in a bathtub.”

“You’ll at least give me a pillow and a blanket, right?”

“What else am I going to use to smother you in your sleep?”

He laughs, a deep, masculine sound that echoes across the empty room. “Maybe this is a bad deal for me.”

“You’re the one who’s so intent on being a dealmaker.”

“That’s how shit gets done.”

I slide into the chair across from him and open my laptop. “Let’s get shit done, then.”

And we do. It takes me three calls and a smidge of begging, but I buy the bonds Theo’s looking for from a portfolio manager out of Boston I’ve been covering since my vice president days. I double check the treasury and so does Theo, and the trade ticket goes through on both sides without a hitch. Theo even sends a Bloomberg to the group: Nice job Nora Frasier taking me out of my WAL 37 axe. I remain a better buyer across the board.

“I even get a shout out?” I ask, our eyes meeting over my laptop screen. In true trader style, Theo is still working off his phone. “Who are you today?”

“The hero,” he answers, and my heart twists. “At least for—”

“Oh, wait, hold that thought, someone’s calling—” I glance at my phone and hold up my index finger, bringing the phone to my ear. “Hey, Aiden.”

“Nora! Happy Friday indeed. I just saw Theo’s Bloom and thought I’d check in. You’re both still alive and well, I hope? No homicides to report?”

Usually Aiden’s accent, his cheerful British warmth, would make me sigh. But today it kind of . . . grates? It just feels a little fake, forced, after all the real, hard conversations I’ve had over the past few days.

I even find myself feeling a little impatient with him. “Our meeting with Brian went even better than I hoped. We’re still not one hundred percent back to where we were before, but Theo really brought his A-game—”

Aiden scoffs. “Really?”

“Really.”

“What a pleasant surprise,” Aiden says. He lowers his voice. “Rebecca tells me the two of you are stranded out there, thanks to this ghastly weather.”

“We are,” I say, rising to go stand by the open doors. Theo’s eyes follow me. “We hope to get back tomorrow.”

“Ah. I’m quite sorry.”

“I’ll survive.”

A pause on the other end of the line. “So you’re getting on, then? You and Morgan?”

My stomach flips. Is Aiden prying for information? Why? It’s a fair question for a manager to ask, but something about Aiden’s hushed tone makes me think his interest in us—me and Theo—goes beyond the professional.

“We’ve found some common ground,” I say carefully.

“And you’re okay.”

“You keep asking me if I’m okay. I’m fine, Aiden, really. I’d let you know if I wasn’t. Remember how I came storming into your office last week?”

“I know, I know, I just . . .” Another pregnant pause. “I worry about you.”

The tightness in my chest returns with a vengeance. I step outside, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Theo’s not looking. “You can’t keep doing this, saying you care about me like that.”