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She tugged. He didn’t budge, but he didn’t let go, either. “If you take me out, I promise I’ll work tomorrow without a complaint. I’ll be all serious, helpful, adult, and all that stuff.”
He snorted. “That sounded so convincing. Especially the ‘and stuff’ part.”
“I’m serious,” she said, her blue eyes pinning him into place. “Let’s go.”
He shook his head and turned away. No way in hell he was going to let her cajole him and work her magic like she used to. He wasn’t that gullible anymore. “I can’t take the day off. I have a job. Responsibilities. Deadlines.”
“Oh, come on.” She batted her lashes at him.
He’d known she would try it, but he couldn’t help but be affected. His resolve to refuse her every whim slipped, and it was on the tip of his tongue to agree to take her to the carnival just to see her smile at him again. Just to make her happy—for old times’ sake. Damn her and her eyelashes.
“Please?” she asked, her tone soft and pleading.
“No.” Gathering his tattered resolve, he pulled free and headed for the couch. “Do some work first like a good little girl, and then maybe we’ll go to the carnival.”
She followed him. “That’s no fun.”
“Responsible people work, and then play once they’re finished.”
“‘All work and no play makes Jake a dull boy,’” she quoted.
He stared down at his knees. “That’s fine. I can live with being dull, as long as people know they can rely on me to get the job done. Speaking of which…”
Opening the notebook on the table, he sighed. He had to work. Adults such as himself had real responsibilities and duties—and damn it, he wanted to go to the fucking carnival.
Maybe he could win her a big stuffed kitten, like he used to, and she would let him name it. He couldn’t help but wonder what happened to all of the animals he had won for her over the years. Once upon a time, she’d loved them, because she hadn’t had any real pets.
Why didn’t she have any now? No one was stopping her anymore. She’d always wanted a cat. An orange one. “Tell me exactly what you did when you broke in.”
“I’m trying to remember.” She flopped down next to him dramatically. “I really don’t remember what I did. I’m good, but I’m not that good.”
“Yeah, you are.” Pulling the cap of the pen off with his teeth, he turned to her and froze. She stared at his mouth, much as he’d probably been doing to hers earlier. Fuck. He cleared his throat, and she tore her gaze off his lips. “You went into the safe. Then you…?”
She flipped her long, wavy brown hair over a shoulder. A dimple popped out to play when she pressed her lips together, then promptly hid again. “I plugged my phone in.”
“Your phone?”
“Yeah. It tells me what I need to know once it’s connected.”
He shook his head. “They really do have an app for everything, don’t they?”
“They do, but I developed this one.” Leaning forward, she picked up her mug and sipped her coffee. “Or, my team did, anyway.”
He blinked. “You have a whole fucking team?”
“Yeah.” She peeked at him out of the corner peripheral vision. “I have a business, Jake. Not a hobby. It’s legit—mostly.”
“Yeah. Sure,” he scoffed. “And I’m the president of the United States.”
She clunked her coffee mug down. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He tapped the pen on the side of the notebook. “What did you do after you used your nifty little homemade app?”
“I got the vase and got the hell out of there before I got caught.”
“Too bad I caught you anyway,” he said, his voice hard. “How many times have you been caught?”
“None.”
