Page 56 of Negotiating Tactics

He ushered me into the back of an SUV that was idling in front of the building.

“Let’s go,” Noah said to the driver.

And then we were off.

Noah and I hadn’t gone out often, and the few times we had, we’d always walked. He had offered—damn near insisted—that we go places, but I resisted. I was trying to keep my head on straight, keep my growing attachment to Noah at bay. Plus, I’d been busy with work.

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why he had a driver tonight, but when he grabbed my hand and interlaced our fingers, I just smiled at him with contentment.

A smile that soon dropped when I managed to tear my gaze away from Noah and looked out of the vehicle’s windows.

“Where are we going?” I asked, watching as the surroundings turned from city to more industrial.

“The airport,” he said.

“We’re having dinner at the airport?” I asked, looking at him confused.

He used his thumb to wipe the line between my brows.

“No, Alex, we’re not having dinner at the airport,” he said.

“Then what are we doing?” I asked as the car continued on.

“We’re having dinner in New York, and then we’re going to a concert,” he said.

“Dinner in New York?” I said, opening and closing my mouth before I realized now wasn’t the time for my fish impersonation.

“Yes. We’ll helicopter over. It’s a short trip. After dinner, we’ll head to the arena,” he said.

“For what?” I asked.

“The concert,” he responded evenly, clearly teasing me.

“What concert?” I asked.

He laughed and said the group’s name. “They sing six of the top ten songs in your most played, so I thought you’d like it.”

I shouldn’t have been taken aback, not after one fleeting glance at those boots, but Noah knew my favorite band, one that I couldn’t recall ever mentioning to him.

I looked at him, studying his face, trying to figure out what to say.

He stopped me before I said a word and squeezed my fingers.

I looked into his eyes, blinking, and then spoke before I could change my mind. “What is this?”

“It’s your birthday, and I wanted to spoil my girl,” he said nonchalantly.

He may have said the words nonchalantly, but I felt anything but.

I kept looking at him, weighing my next words heavily, again deciding to speak before I could talk myself out of it.

“And am I your girl, Noah?” I asked.

He didn’t miss a beat. “I want you to be.”

My heart thudded, my emotions shifting from elation to confusion, then back again.

“What about…?” I started but couldn’t finish.

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