Page 11 of Back in Black

She jumped as if he’d goosed her, and then she turned those big eyes on him.

Oh, yeah, Brett thought. He had to have her.

“Research,” he fibbed, remembering that he had to play it cool. “The more you know about the place, the better. Early evening during the week, the fighters are scarce. We could come on a weekday, and you could plan things out then. Like where best to stage your protest, what day of the week, and what time. All that.”

When she still looked wary, he lifted both hands, palms out. “No obligation or anything. Just thought I’d offer to help.”

“I don’t know.” Her brows pinched down as she studied him. “Why would you want to help?”

Pushing off the rail, Brett stepped closer to her and again, he put his fingers to her chin, lifting her face. “I think you’re cute as hell, Audrey Porter, and I want to get to know you better.”

Her chin tucked in. “Are you serious?”

“Oh, yeah. You have no idea how hard it is not to kiss you right now.”

“Not to . . .” She couldn’t even finish.

“Kiss you.” He brushed a thumb over her bottom lip, then dropped his hand and took a step back.Damn. “But I can tell you’re not ready for that yet, are you, Audrey?”

She snapped her mouth shut and scowled at him. “No, I am not.”

“Then I’ll just practice patience.” Brett held up a flyer. “But this is important to you, right? So for now, I’m okay with just helping out. For you.”

Giving him the same study she’d give a two-headed toad, Audrey put a hand in her hair. “This is nuts. How am I supposed to respond to all that?”

“How do youwantto respond?” Before she could answer, Brett said, “Don’t think about what you should do. Just tell me what you want to do.” He tried a persuasive grin. “Come on, Audrey. Fess up. You know you want to.”

She gazed over the rail again—and nodded. “I’m very curious, I admit.”

About the bar, or maybe about him, too? Brett hoped for the latter.

When she turned back to him, she caught him looking at her backside, and she started scowling again.

Brett grinned without shame. He wanted her, and he wouldn’t pretend otherwise. But because he didn’t want her to change her mind, he retreated a little. “What time do you get off work?”

“Depends. I’m a photographer, and if we have a big shoot to do, it can run over. But usually nine to five.”

“A photographer, huh? Like in a studio?”

She nodded. “Picture This.”

He’d seen the kitschy studios in malls. “Those places are everywhere, right?”

“Just like fast-food chains.” She made a face. “If I can save enough money, I hope to have my own, classier place someday.”

That disclosure surprised Brett. “A great goal. I’m sure you’ll get there.”

As if she only then realized that she’d shared a dream, she straightened. “Anyway, Mondays are usually light, Fridays are insane. The rest of the week is somewhere in between.”

So she didn’t work weekends? Good to know. And since he usually stayed in the gym till five, her hours meshed with his. “Let’s say six o’clock, Monday. Can I pick you up?”

“No.”She laughed as if the idea were absurd, then caught herself and cleared her throat. “I’ll just meet you here. Out in front of the bar, I mean.”

Rather than push his luck, Brett nodded. “Already looking forward to it.” After handing out the rest of her flyers to the diners, who set them aside without really looking at them, Brett walked her back out front to rejoin her friends.

To the women waiting, he made a show of holding up his empty hands, proof that he’d kept his word. Impressed that he’d given out all the flyers, the ladies made a show of congratulating him. Millie moved protectively to Audrey, as if she’d just returned from war, and spoke quietly with her. But Audrey must have reassured her, because after a quick and private conversation, Millie relaxed with a smile.

That one, Brett decided, was a true mother hen. But it didn’t bother him; since he’d grown up without it, he’d always considered protectiveness to be a good quality. And if Audrey had friends who cared so much for her, it spoke of what a good person she was.

---