Page 8 of Stone Rules

A shameless grin stretches wide across my face. “Well then, Mr. Private Eye, tell me—what are you reading right now?” I ask, looking at him through lidded eyes. “Angsty drama? Exciting thriller?” I lean forward and rest my elbows on his desk, suggestively leaning my head onto my hands. “Steamy romance?”

He’s good at hiding his emotions. Better than most. But that doesn’t stop me from noticing how he shifts around in his chair. “Why do I get the feeling you are a bit of all three?” he asks.

I laugh. “So, youaregood at your job,” I say. I look around his office again and then let my eyes rake over him slowly. I watch his pen come to his mouth and trace a thoughtful line across his lower lip. “And you—you’re a bit action/adventure, crime documentary, sullen mystery.”

“Sullen?” he asks, his lip twitching in amusement.

“Yeah,” I say. “Don’t get me wrong, Stone. It’s hot. But you have this moody, ill-tempered, melancholy feel about you.”

He lifts a judgmental brow.

“Kinda crazy,” I say, flashing him a mocking smile. “Having someone read you so well, huh?”

He looks at me. Hell, he looksthroughme. Nobody looks at me the way he does right now. Like he sees more than the pretty daughter of a washed-up actress and model. Like he knows I’m full of shit.

“Ahem.” He clears his throat and shakes his head as if ridding it of unwanted thoughts. “So my cousin tells me you’re a friend of the family that owns the Mitchell’s restaurant chain. What do you think of him? Of Jarod?”

“I haven’t met him yet,” I confess, removing my arms from his desk. “Piper Mitchell—that’s my best friend—she’s the one who told me his cousin was a private investigator. She got your contact information from him.”

“I see.” He twirls his pen expertly between the fingers of his left hand. “Well, since you’re a friend of the family so-to-speak, if you want to hire me, I’ll give you a discount off my regular fee. I charge by the hour so the total cost will depend on how difficult it is to find them.”

My confidence wanes for the first time since walking through his office door. “Yeah, about that. My inheritance won’t come through for a while, and I’m not sure the court would look kindly on me spending estate money on this.”

He nods in understanding. “I can offer you a payment plan. Also a perk of knowing someone who knows someone.” He winks and a hot shiver crawls down my spine. All the way to my center. “That is, if you have a job. You have a job, right?”

“Duh.” I roll my eyes dramatically. I’m not sure why, but I don’t want this guy to think I’m dead weight. “Of course I have a job. At Mitchell’s.”

He raises an argumentative brow. “And yet you’ve never met Jarod.”

“Well, I haven’t started yet. I just got back to town a few days ago.”

“Mmmm,” he mumbles, as if my shit is clear as mud to him. “Do you like tattoos?”

My mind goes crazy thinking about what ink he has and where. “Very much,” I say.

“Then you’ll love Jarod.”

My mouth curves down into a pout when he chuckles and shakes his head alerting me to his sarcasm. He breaks into a smile. One that reveals his hidden dimple. One that melts me like ice cream in the desert.

“What about you?” I ask. “Do you like them?”Please say yes.

He shrugs. “They’re okay.”

“Do you have any?” I bite my lower lip awaiting his reply.

“That’s kind of a private question, Tate.”

“Just brushing up on my P.I. skills, Stone.”

He laughs. It’s a deep, throaty, intoxicating laugh. But for some reason, I get the idea he doesn’t do it very often. “I may have one or two.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” I say, my gaze sliding casually down his body before rising to meet his again.

His eyes close and he slowly inhales then lets out a deep breath. He’s thinking about it.

“Charlie,” he says, like he’s my fifth-grade teacher, and I know the answer is no. But that doesn’t keep me from trying to change his mind.

“Ethan.” I look up at him through my lashes. “Mr. Stone,” I say in my best seductive voice. “Do you ever date clients?”

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