Page 48 of PR Stunt

The energy between us shifts.

One arm drops beneath the table, and a moment later, I feel his hand brush lightly up and down my calf. “Impressive. You’d rather fake a food issue than admit you needed me.”

“Hilarious.”

“That’s what you get for ordering ravioli at a place known for steak.”

“Oh, please. Like your taste buds have ever had the range for anything besides meat and whiskey.”

Grayson’s mouth quirks, elbow resting on the table and fingers tapping lazily against his glass. “You’d be surprised what I have the range for.” The way he says it, smooth and suggestive with just enough bite, makes my stomach tighten.

“If you are intentionally trying to make me feel sick again, it’s working.”

Grayson sets his glass down and then pushes back his chair slightly. “Let’s go.”

“What? We haven’t even paid yet.”

He grabs his jacket from the back of his chair. “I already did.”

“When?”

“While you were pretending to be sick in the bathroom.”

I cringe. Great. He’ll never let me live this down. He offers me his hand. I glance at it, hesitating for a second, too aware of how public this is, how many people are watching us. With a quiet sigh, I slip my fingers into his. We walk outside together, and the valet is already bringing the car around. The second we step out, the camera flashes hit.

“Charlie! Grayson! Over here!”

“Charlie, Grayson, big date night?”

The paps are calling our names, the sound of shutters click rapid-fire, but Grayson doesn’t slow. He lets go of my hand smoothly, stepping around me to open the passenger door. I don’t pause. I slide into my seat, exhaling as I fasten my seat belt. Grayson shuts the door and then walks around the front, moving unhurriedly. He gets into the driver’s seat, starts the car, and pulls away from the curb.

I let out a slow breath. “Well, Anna and Miranda will be thrilled with those.”

He glances at the rearview mirror and then at the side mirror, his expression unreadable.

“Problem?” I ask.

He clicks his tongue once, a low, knowing sound. “We’re being tailed.”

I stiffen slightly, turning my head.

“Don’t look.”

I swallow, facing forward again. “They’ll get bored eventually.”

Grayson exhales through his nose. “Not soon enough. They’re going to pull up beside us at the next stop sign.”

I frown. “So?”

His jaw flexes slightly, his grip steady on the wheel. “So, if they get a shot of us sitting here stiff as hell, it’s going to look bad. Too fake.”

I blink. “Well, it is fake.”

He turns his head slightly, giving me a look. “Not in their eyes.”

I shake my head. “So, what, you want me to just—”

“Put your head on my shoulder.”