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“I’ll prepare for any scenario, then, Ms. Connor.”

Was that a double entendre or was I making up things? I licked my lips, realizing the broody and mysterious Reid Davenport was teasing me. Maybe he wasn’t an ass, after all. Maybe he had a bit of Mr. Darcy in him.

Shit, no. Where had that thought come from? I was a sucker for Mr. Darcy: broody, misunderstood white knight. Davenport wasn’t like that. If anything, I imagined him more like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I wasn’t buying his one-eighty.

“I’ll check my schedule and get back to you.”

“I’d be very grateful if you could make time as soon as possible.”

Alarm bells went off in my mind. Something must have definitely happened for him to switch gears like this. Had his team pressured him into this somehow?

I was tempted to prod him more on the phone, but I had the uncanny feeling that he was still convincing himself to go through with this, and if I pushed too much too soon, he’d shut down again. Reid wasn’t my first difficult client. I understood the defensive behavior.

I dealt with my clients when they were at a vulnerable time in their life, and their first instinct was to enclose themselves in a shell. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he wasn’t a complete ass. Maybe his shell was just harder than I’d anticipated.

“I’ll make that happen,” I promised.

“I look forward to our collaboration. Have a great weekend.”

That gave me an idea.

“I don’t have plans this weekend. We could meet tomorrow or Sunday.”

“If it isn’t too much trouble.”

He was definitely desperate.

“Would you like to meet at the bar of the hotel?” I asked.

“Something less public would be better. To have some privacy while we talk. My penthouse?”

I was shocked that he was willing to meet at his home. I took that as an omen that he really wanted to give this a try, that he wouldn’t end up wasting my time again.

“Sure. Where is it?”

“Inside the hotel.”

“Oh, okay.”

That made me think he really was a recluse, and the hotel was his fortress. If he’d lived in the one located in Hollywood, he’d have a harder time staying out of the limelight.

“Tomorrow. Eight in the evening?”

“There is an event at the hotel, and the garage will be full. I’ll send a driver for you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is. I’ll send a driver.”

A shiver ran through me. I could fight him on this, but I still had plenty of rounds to fight. I could let this go, give him the illusion that he was in charge.

“Tell him to be at my house at seven thirty. Thank you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening. I am... in your debt.”

“Careful, I will cash in.”

He laughed again. “I’m not expecting anything less of you, Ms. Connor. Text me your address.”

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