Page 76 of The Chase

He merely grins. “You gave an heiress from Connecticut permission to dress you for an interview. You really think I’m going to miss this show?”

I sigh. I guess I could put my foot down and declare this travesty over, but clearly Summer is having fun, and this is the first time in days that Hunter’s actually seemed at ease with me. Maybe I was imagining his aloofness, and he doesn’t care about the kiss at all.

“Listen, about you and Summer,” he hedges.

I spoke too soon.

“She said you’re helping her with her midterm.”

“Mmm-hmmm. I am.” I pretend to be preoccupied with the left sleeve of my sweater, examining it as if it holds all the secrets to the universe.

“And then there was the whole, ah, kiss thing on Sunday.” From the corner of my eye, I see him run his fingers through his dark hair. “So I’m just gonna come out and ask. Is there something between you guys? You hooking up?”

“Naah, we’re not.” Man, this sleeve is damn fascinating. “We’re just friends.”

“You sure about that?”

I force myself to look him in the eye like a mature adult. “In case you forgot, I was walking by minding my own business when that bottle landed on me. Neither of us wanted to follow through, remember?”

“True.” He’s nodding slowly. “You guys did look really uncomfortable.”

Did we?

I try not to frown. Because whatIremember is how her lips set my entire body on fire. I remember her tongue rubbing against mine and sending an electric shock straight to my balls. I remember breathing in her addictive scent and almost passing out with need.

But Hunter saw discomfort. Interesting.

Maybe that’s why Summer hasn’t raised the subject of the kiss even once since it happened. Fuck. Am I actually in the friend zone?

“I think she’s awesome, Fitz.” He shrugs. “I wasn’t joking about the whole dibs thing when we got back from Vermont. I’m into her.”

He shoots a glance toward the doorway, as if he’s worried Summer might be standing there. But he relaxes when her and Mike’s laughter echoes from downstairs.

“And I think she’s into me,” he continues. Another shrug. “I mean, we made out on New Year’s. We’ve cuddled.”

They’vecuddled? The stab of jealousy I feel hurts more than I expect.

“I’m planning on asking her out.” He tips his head, watching me carefully. “Is that going to be a problem?”

What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Yes, it’s gonna be a problem? What if I did say that? What then? Would we have to duel for Summer’s honor?

“Like I said when we discussed her moving in, as long as it doesn’t affect our lease, I don’t care what you do.” It’s very, very difficult to utter these words, but the alternative would only create problems I’d rather not deal with at the moment.

If Summer was ripping her clothes off and begging me to screw her, maybe my answer would be different.

But she’s not.

17

FITZ

IGREW UP IN THE SUBURBS OUTSIDE OFBOSTON, SO THEodds of me ever seeing a tornado were about as good as the chances of my parents getting back together.

This morning, I finally get to witness one.

The tornado’s name is Kamal Jain. He bursts into the hotel bar in a blur of gray and black, offering fleeting glimpses of white teeth and brown skin and stubby fingers that he waves at the server as he flies past her.

The vortex grinds to a halt to reveal the short, stocky figure of Kamal Jain, and it takes serious effort to keep my jaw hinged because it turns out he’s not wearing gray and black.

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