Page 51 of Grin and Bear It

“After breakfast.” He flipped the omelet with a practiced flick of his wrist. “We’ll need to blend in. The bazaar has spotters everywhere.”

“I’ve handled underground markets before,” she said, a hint of pride coloring her voice. “The key is looking like you belong.”

He slid the finished omelet onto a plate and handed it to her. “There’s a lakeside restaurant that provides excellent cover—good vantage point, unobstructed views of all potential bazaar entry points.”

“A restaurant?” Suspicion crept into her tone.

“Best observation post in the county,” he replied innocently, starting on his own omelet. “Perfect for surveillance.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but hunger won out as she took her first bite. The small sound of appreciation she made sent a warm current through him.

“This is good,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Bear secret.”

“Let me guess—honey in the eggs?”

He laughed. “How did you know?”

“You put honey in everything.” No judgment in her voice, just observation. “Your coffee, your toast. I even spotted honey in the bathroom soap.”

The fact that she’d noticed these small details about him warmed something in his chest. Most people saw Artair Maxen, CEO and clan leader—not the man who enjoyed simple pleasures like honey in his breakfast or early morning hikes.

Thora saw him. Really saw him.

“I’ll prepare my tactical gear,” she said, polishing off the last bite. “What’s the dress code for this ‘observation post’?”

“Smart casual.” He kept his voice neutral. “Nothing that screams ‘bounty hunter on a mission.’“

She snorted. “So leave the tranquilizer gun and shifter-dampening handcuffs at home?”

“Probably wise.” He flipped his own omelet. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I can drive myself.”

“Better to arrive together. Couples draw less attention than singles at this particular venue.”

“Couples,” she repeated, testing the word.

“For surveillance purposes,” he clarified, though his bear growled at the unnecessary qualification.

Something flickered in her eyes—uncertainty, curiosity, perhaps a hint of anticipation quickly suppressed. Artair noted it all, fascinated by the brief glimpse beneath her carefully maintained control.

“Fine,” she conceded. “Six o’clock. But this is reconnaissance, not a date.”

“Of course.” He hid his smile behind his coffee mug. “Strictly professional.”

FORTY-SEVEN

Artair pulled his vintage Aston Martin to a stop outside Thora’s apartment building at precisely six. He’d debated bringing the convertible, but the evening promised a slight chill—better to have the warmth of the coupe for the drive back.

He spotted her immediately, waiting on the building’s front steps. His breath caught.

She’d traded her usual leather jacket and jeans for a deep green dress that skimmed her curves before ending just above her knees. Her dark hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders instead of the practical ponytail she typically favored.

For surveillance purposes, of course.

He stepped out of the car, suddenly grateful he’d chosen his charcoal suit instead of something more casual. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of him, a reaction she quickly masked.

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