“Sorry.” She held up her hands. “That probably sounded like I’m a paparazzo or something. I’ve met plenty of families like the Buchanans, and I swear I’m not stalking your friend.”
At least she was perceptive enough to read my discomfort.
“I just wondered what on earth a date to a wedding has to do with a bet,” she continued. “Not that it’s any of my business.”
“No harm, no foul.”
“Since you just got home from work, you’re probably drinking on an empty stomach.” She took a pretzel and pushed the bowl toward me. “I’d offer you something more substantial, but like I said, a fraught grocery trip.”
She was sending a message.Here, have some food because I’m not trying to get you drunk.I took two pretzels and crunched on them. She wasn’t wrong about me being starving. In more ways than one.
“Tell me about your sports team,” she said, pulling me out of my head full of illicit thoughts. “You play football—I mean soccer. I have to remember it’s soccer here.”
“Soccer and basketball,” I said. “It’s not that interesting. I belong to a couple of rec leagues. Soccer on Sundays and basketball on Tuesdays.” I leaned forward with my forearms on the countertop. “And I’m sorry for getting weird about Rex.”
“I totally understand.” She took a sip of her wine, then smiled as she stared down into it. “I was on an assignment once and had to go to a Saudi prince’s compound.Oneof his compounds. Getting through the security checks took half a day, and that was after already being vetted and granted permission to go there. And you wouldn’t believe the NDAs we had to sign.”
I glanced sideways at her, seeing her in a whole new light. “Your application said you’re an analyst. I got the impression that’s a desk job.”
“Oh, it is. Mostly.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Sometimes.”
“Six B, I think you’re a woman with some secrets.”
“Hmm, you have no idea.” She tensed her shoulders and took another swig of wine.
Maybe some fun, sexy secrets? Nope. Not my business. Even if she wasn’t the staid professional I’d originally thought, and even if she did show up at my door like a gorgeous Christmas package waiting to be unwrapped, I was not interested. Much. Of course, a little. I wasn’t dead. And now that my mind had gone thereagain, or more precisely, seemed to be stuck there, I wondered how amenable my sexy new neighbor would be to the fun I just couldn’t stop picturing in my mind. I was finding it difficult to remember why I’d made up that stupid fucking rule in the first place.
I should ask more questions about her job. That’s what a friendly neighbor with no ulterior motive would do. But despite her bringing it up, I had a feeling asking about it would go over even worse with her than the wedding question had with me. Forget NDAs. I considered that she possibly had a security clearance and knew national secrets. Or maybe I was just fantasizing about a jet-setting neighbor who would be too busy for anything other than some hot and dirty time between the sheets before flying out on her next assignment. The bad Hollywood script I was writing in my head was probably inspired by the fact that everything I knew about her agency came from a novel I read when I was a teenager about spies whose cover story was working for the State Department.
“Tell me something aboutyourwork,” my hostess said. “How did your dinner meeting go last night?”
“As expected. Long and boring.”
“Did you close a big, billion-dollar merger or something?”
I grinned. “No, because this was an exploratory meeting to see if our companies have complementary capabilities. They’d like to expand into the US solar market, and we’d like to get a piece of the European geothermal pie.”
“Opening negotiations,” she said. “Trying to establish quid pro quo. Now you’re speaking my language.”
I liked speaking her language. Especially when she licked a drop of wine off her lower lip. I cleared my throat and attempted to clear my mind. “More like a prelude to opening negotiations. If I think they’re worth pursuing, I’ll bring it to the CEO and the corporate lawyers. Sorry, did that come across as mansplaining? I shouldn’t assume what you do and don’t know about corporate America.”
“Probably less than I should and more than I want to.” She grinned. “But you’re fine. No harm, no foul.”
“Now you’re speakingmylanguage.”
And since we had a common language, maybe these wereouropening negotiations. I had to stop with the mental double entendres already.Get your shit together, Halifax, before you turn into a creepy neighbor like 4B.
I took a cleansing breath. “About that wedding bet...”
“Oh, you’re going to spill the tea?”
“I could be convinced, if we had our own quid pro quo. How about I tell you about the wedding bet, and you…” God, everything that occurred to me was lewd, illegal in most states, or both.Shut up, lizard brain. “You tell me one embarrassing thing you’ve done.”
“Embarrassing?” She grinned. “That’s why you didn’t want to discuss the wedding date bet. Something about it is embarrassing to you.”
“Not the only reason, but…yeah, a little bit. Deal?”
“Yes, quid pro quo.” She held out her hand, and I shook it. Her skin was soft, and her grip was firm.
