The Negotiator (Harbor City 1)

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a smart man, he kept his mouth shut and flipped through the list of streaming movies. Truth was, he’d had fun renovating the cart. She’d made it fun, teasing him about how someone whose company built skyscrapers had never used a paint spray gun before. The finished cart was in the living room, a bright red splash of color in his otherwise black and metallic room, drawing his attention the same way as the woman in his arms had started to do.

Per usual, the listed movies picked because of his watching history fell into two distinct categories: shit blows up and RomComs. He was about to swap over to the explosion side of things when one of his favorites popped on the screen.

“We could watch this. There’s fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, and miracles.”

She twisted around and looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Did you just quote The Princess Bride?”

Well, there was no use denying it now, but the expected embarrassment didn’t hit. Like almost everything else when it came to Clover, that reaction was unexpected. He hit play on the movie. “I have a thing.”

“Oh no way, I want all the dirty details.” She picked up both beers, kept one and handed him the other.

As the opening credits played on the movie, he took a long drink. “Do I get to take you home tonight even after I spill my secrets and you know I love watching old RomComs?”

Her answer was a quick brush of her lips against his. “If you don’t, there’ll be hell to pay.”

That soft kiss turned into another and another and another until the man in black was climbing the Cliffs of Insanity before Clover pulled away and grabbed the popcorn and then settled back down snuggled against him.

“We’re gonna miss the movie,” she said.

“Life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something,” he paraphrased another of his favorite lines.

But the thing was, since Clover had walked into his office and become his personal buffer, his life had lost that black tinge of pain that he hadn’t even realized had been there. The question was, would it come back when their contract was up, and did he even want to find out?

Chapter Fourteen

Normally, a brunch trip to Grounded Coffee with Daphne meant Clover rushed to claim the seat at their regular table that would give her the perfect view of the coffee house’s amazingly hot in-house pastry chef as he made the chocolate-filled croissants and other goodies destined to go straight to her ass. This time, though, she didn’t even realize she was sitting with her back to the large window dividing the kitchen from the seating area until Daphne slid into prime viewing seat number one and dug into her food.

“Oh my God.” Daphne gasped, her forkful of bacon and spinach quiche stopping halfway between her plate and her mouth. “It really must be love.”

Trying not the burn with guilt, Clover finished the bite of taste-free and chalky croissant. Okay, it probably tasted wonderful but not to her at the moment. The evil eye her conscience was giving her pretty much killed any good the delectable could do for her taste buds.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, sounding as convincingly innocent as she had when she’d been eight and had gotten caught with the last crumbs of an entire plate’s worth of Christmas cookies.

“Hot chef,” Daphne responded. “You didn’t even look before you plopped down.”

Buying time by stuffing another bite of flaky, buttery chalk dust into her mouth, she forced herself to make eye contact with her best friend. Daphne had her elbows on their table and her chin propped up on one hand, her brown eyes wide with interest.

“I’m just keeping the mystery alive for our friendship.” Oh yeah, Clover. That doesn’t sound like bullshit at all. “What fun would it be if you knew everything about me?”

“Like that game is even necessary,” Daphne argued and popped another bite of quiche into her mouth. “I’ve barely heard from you lately and this is the first time I’ve laid eyes on you in weeks.”

“It’s been a little busy.” In a hot, sweaty sex against the wall, in the shower, and occasionally on the bed kind of way.

Daphne arched an eyebrow. “All that wedding planning, huh?”

What once had probably been a perfectly good croissant transformed into a lead weight in the pit of her stomach. God, she hated lying. This was why she’d been dodging her bestie and her mom. It was easier to forget what a total asshole she was being to the people she loved if she wasn’t eye to eye with them. The truth danced on the tip of her tongue before pounding against her clamped shut lips. But instead of letting the words out, she forced herself to walk the Sawyer Carlyle personal buffer company line.

“Exactly.” She nodded and slammed back the remains of her espresso cup, kind of for real hoping it would make her spontaneously combust on the spot.

It didn’t. Instead, she just gave her insides third degree burns.

“That is bullshit,” Daphne said.

Clover jerked to attention, torn away from her own pity party.

Daphne rolled her eyes and continued. “I know you’re not getting married.”