Page 22 of The Distiller's Darling

She reached out and snatched the notepad out of his grasp. “No. It’s proprietary.”

“Which means what?”

“Which means you’re not taking my sketch and getting some hack to brand it up for you.”

“Then why won’t you do it?”

“Because I don’t work for people I’m sleeping with. It’s bad business.” She tore off the top sheet and folded it carefully.

He sighed. “Fine. I’m too hungry to argue about it. Want to go out to dinner?”

She opened her mouth to say yes, then froze. What was she doing? Spending the entire day with him? Hanging out at home, working side-by-side, having dinner together? This was starting to feel like a relationship. And Naomi didn’t do relationships.

Relationships turned men into bizarre, greedy animals who demanded that you give up all of your time and energy for them. Just look at her parents and her brother and his wife. Both her mother and her sister-in-law had completely subsumed their own lives into their husbands’. Now, they spent all of their time supporting the ambitions of the men in their lives, with nothing of their own to show for it. Like hell was Naomi going to turn into some kind of Stepford Wife.

“I can’t,” she said. “Sorry.”

He frowned. “But—”

“You should probably go,” she added quickly. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, and you probably have some more calls and meetings.”

“Actually—”

“I’ll see you around.” She pasted on a smile and led the way to the door before he could get a word in edgewise. “Here you go.” She opened the door and held a hand out like she was a game show hostess demonstrating a prize.

“Er… thanks.” He stepped over the threshold, then turned back to her. “Naomi, I—”

“Bye!” She shut the door in his face. Then she leaned against it and put her hand to her forehead. What a narrow escape.

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