Imaginary Lines (New York Leopards 3)

They looked slightly impressed that he remembered their names. “Right.”

He looked over the three of us. “You all work together?”

I hooked my arm through Mduduzi’s. “Sure do.”

“Tamar,” Jin said in a low, warning voice, and it clicked that they didn’t realize why I was being so familiar with Abe.

Abe, of course, waved it off, which bugged me even more—it made him look like he was being gracious, when of course he was really acting overbearing. “It’s no big deal.”

Mduduzi smiled. “We appreciate it.”

For God’s sake, were they going to act as though he could run us over, and after everything Tanya always said about serious journalism? I scowled at Abe and couldn’t control the denial from bursting past my lips. “It is not okay.”

Mduduzi delivered an elbow to my ribs and a look that said to stop being a nuisance.

Right. Because good journalists acted like adults.

“Tamar—” Abe raked his hand through his hair. “Calm down.”

I crossed my arms. “No.”

“Can we talk about it over dinner?”

I hesitated as I realized that Jin and Mduduzi were staring at me. “I’m busy.”

He didn’t like that answer. “With what?”

I lifted my chin. “Maybe I have a hot date.” Or dinner with my cousin Shoshi. One or the other.

Jensen, the backup quarterback, popped over. Energy burst out of him to such a degree he practically bounced on his toes, and no wonder. All dressed up, but no chance to play. “Tamar, right?”

I switched my attention to him, because he was easier than Abe or my coworkers. “That’s right.”

Jensen grinned, and glanced back and forth between Abe and me. He was a troublemaker, all right. He focused the full force of his jaunty smile on me. “You coming out with us tomorrow?”

My eyes instinctively went back to Abe’s, who didn’t look quite as excited. I raised a brow. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Not really your scene.”

I raised my brow. “How do you know what my scene is, Abraham Krasner?”

He just narrowed his eyes and smiled slightly, as though to say, Oh, I know. Intimately.

I blushed, but rallied my nerves. “Well, then. I’ll see you there.”

Abe’s eyes were bright with amusement. “We never told you where.”

Oops.

“Turquoise, in Meatpacking,” Jensen said promptly. “You need my number to find us?”

Abe cut in. “She doesn’t want your number.”

That was too much. “Wow, you know all about me all of a sudden. Whose number I need, what stories I should be telling, where I’d like to go.”

“Tamar...” Mduduzi said nervously.

But I didn’t get a chance to retort, because open locker room was closing, and the staff started ushering all of the media away. Abraham didn’t lose eye contact. “The two of us could just get dinner tomorrow.”