"Sweetie, you're a freaking genius."
"And we could add some of the recipes, too," Jenna continued, on a roll. "Or, even better, we can do a calendar and then a companion cookbook, with pictures of the guys and some of the bar's bestselling drinks and recipes. Get it in local bookstores, maybe sell it nationally. That would be a great fundraiser. Don't you think?" she added, twisting around to look at Reece.
"You seriously think it'll work?"
"I know it will," she assured him, crossing her fingers out of sight. Because nothing in marketing was a certainty. She could organize the crap out of this thing, have the hottest guys under the sun, and the whole thing could still crash and burn.
But she was going to do her damnedest to make sure that didn't happen.
"Then I say we go for it," he said. "So long as I'm not one of your guinea pigs."
"Reece--"
"Not my style, babe. You know that. And I'm a partner now, remember? I'll have enough on my plate without preening for the masses."
"You don't have to preen," Jenna said. "Just strut." She managed to say it with a straight face, but couldn't hold back the giggles when he glared at her. "Fine," she said, holding up her hands. "Fine. You get a pass. This time. But I'm going all out on the marketing, and I expect you to be all in when I need you."
He looked her straight in the eye, his expression so intense it seemed to push her back in her chair. "Don't you know by now that I'll always be there when you need me?"
"I--" Her heart fluttered, and her skin flushed. And for the first time in ages, she couldn't hold eye contact with him. "Of course, I know that."
"Then you already know--whatever you need, all you have to do is ask."
"I--" She cut off her words, not certain what to say. There was something raw, almost dangerous, about the way he was looking at her. Like they were the only two people in the bar, and that he meant the words literally. Right then, she believed he'd throw himself off a building if she asked him to. And that, yes, he'd even do the contest. For her. If she asked.
He was giving her that power, and it humbled her so much that it was on the tip of her tongue to say something snarky and silly. The kind of thing she'd said to Reece-the-best-friend a million times. But those words wouldn't come for the Reece standing in front of her. They felt wrong. Off.
And so she said the only thing she could; she said, "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he said, his eyes staying right on hers, his voice so low and raw that it seemed to vibrate inside her. She swallowed, her hand closing around her Diet Coke, but she couldn't seem to conjure the will to lift it to her lips or to look away.
Beside her, Amanda cleared her throat. "Um, Reece?"
His head snapped to her, and the moment--or whatever the hell it was--evaporated like water on a hot Texas day.
Amanda cocked her head, indicating a couple who'd just settled onto two empty bar stools.
"Right." Reece glanced down the bar, saw that Eric was at the other end mixing drinks for a group of customers, and slid down to help the new people.
Immediately Amanda turned to Jenn, her eyes wide. "What was that?"
"What?" Jen asked, feigning ignorance.
"Don't even. For a second there, I thought I was going to have to tell you two to get a room."
"Oh, please." Jenna's face burned. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Fine. I used to like playing make-believe, too. Then I grew up." She smiled and batted her eyes. "He wouldn't be a bad one to grow old with, I've got to say."
"Will you lower your voice?" Jenna shot an uneasy glance toward Reece. "And there isn't anything going on. He's one of my best friends."
"With benefits?"
"Dammit, Amanda, stop."
Amanda studied her for a second then took a thoughtful sip of her Cosmo before leaning back in her stool. "My mistake," she said. "Consider it dropped."
"Let's just focus on the project in front of me and not your overactive imagination, okay?"