Imaginary Lines (New York Leopards 3)

Huh. Come to think of it, rivers were incredibly stubborn, as long as everything flowed in their direction. This was a problem. “Please don’t do that. I’ve only been here a month. It’ll be weird.”

“What’s in it for me?”

Um, nothing really. Abe’s existence didn’t contain blackmail material. “I won’t tell your mom you were the one who broke the Wedgwood vase when you were sixteen. Be there in two minutes.”

“Wait, don’t hang up, you’re my excuse—”

I hung up with a smile.

Shrugging on my coat, I waved goodbye to the guys. Mduduzi gaped at me. “Don’t you want to stay for the Krasner gossip?”

I made what I hoped was an expression of great reluctance. “I would, but...”

He nodded. “Right. You’re late for your friend.”

Please, don’t connect the dots. “That’s right.”

I hopped in the elevator and buttoned up my coat, anticipation speeding through me and making my fingers tremble. When I stepped into the lobby, I saw him immediately—or more, saw the direction all the heads were turned in.

Abe stood in the corner, holding his cell in a loose grip, a polite smile on his face as he spoke to Carlos.

Then Abe caught sight of me and his gaze brightened. I smiled back, but also held a finger to my lips. For some reason, I didn’t really want my coworker seeing me interact with Abe. It felt...weird. Unprofessional. Like I shouldn’t be hanging out with someone I was supposed to be interviewing.

For the first time, it struck me that it might legitimately be unprofessional. But that was ridiculous, right?

Abe rolled his eyes at my silencing, and I started to creep past them.

“Tamar.” It was Carlos who spoke my name and beckoned me over. “Have you met Abe Krasner?” To Abraham he said, “Tamar is one of our newest reporters.”

Abe smiled. “We’ve met.”

“So is there something we can help you with?” Carlos kept his tone light, but he couldn’t help his clear fixation on Abe’s answer, or the way he canted his body forward liked he was ready to catch the story of the year spouting from Abe’s lips. As though Abe had come here just to share a secret.

Abe could see it too, and he grinned widely. “Just picking something up.”

Carlos tried to puzzle that out, because surely by all accounts, Abe had stepped into the Today Media lobby, talked on the phone and done nothing else. “Really?”

“Mm-hm.” Grinning even wider, Abe nodded goodbye and started to walk back out the doors. Carlos and I exchanged a quick look—his intrigued, mine trying very hard to convey equal surprise—when Abe turned back. “Hey, either of you know if there’s a Duane Reade around here?”

I shot Carlos another glance, this one to let him know I was going for it. “There’s one on my way to the subway. I’ll walk you by it.” With a quick nod at Carlos, I ran after Abe.

He started laughing almost as soon as we cleared the doors, but I found myself oddly indignant. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

He grinned at me. “Didn’t you?”

Maybe the smallest bit. “I’m not so good at subterfuge. I’m not even sure why we were doing that.”

He raised one brow. “I was following your lead.”

I lifted my face into the crisp October breeze, much brisker here than at home. “They don’t know we know each other.”

“I see how it is. I’m your dirty little secret.”

I snorted and retorted without thinking. “Please, you wish you were my dirty little secret.”

He grinned straight ahead, his hands tucked in his pockets. “You sound awful certain about that.”

I blushed slightly, and he knocked into me. “Come on, admit it, I’m irresistible.”