Page 101 of Black Sheep

“Monkey business.”

She looks blank for a second before her gaze drops to the discarded newspaper. “Oh. Thanks.”

My gaze travels over the body I’m hopelessly addicted to. “A deal’s a deal.”

They leave. I stare into space for a minute. Then every ounce of elation drains from me. I leave my office and head to the lobby.

My eyes zero in on the only woman sitting at the bar, nursing a spritzer. I stop for a moment to study her.

Nondescript hair. Slightly baggy but stylish clothes. She’s chatting to the bartender, a ready and open smile bursting through every now and then.

The perfect camouflage.

I reach her, and she swivels in her seat. She looks me up and down, and I’m treated to a wider smile.

“Hi, I’m Fionnella Smith.” She holds out her hand, and I take it.

“Axel Rutherford.”

“Great to meet you.” She hops down, grabs the largest, rattiest purse I’ve ever seen and stares up at me from her short height. “Okay, shall we wrestle this ferret into the bag?”

The bartender snorts. She throws him another smile over her shoulder.

It’s an act. Or Quinn will owe me a serious explanation.

We head across the lobby. It’s only lunchtime, but the crowd is healthy. And bracingly eclectic.

“This is…interesting.” She indicates the room and the members.

I shrug. “Different strokes…”

She grins. “Hey, you don’t need to tell me.”

“What I want to show you is upstairs.”

Her grin widens. “Aren’t they all? Lead the way.”

I head for the elevator and press the button just as Cleo and B emerge from B’s office. Cleo sees me and stops, her eyes swinging from me to Fionnella and back again.

We start heading for each other at the same time. When we stop, her hand comes up to rest on my chest. On my heart.

“What are you doing down here?” Already a few male club members are checking her out. And setting unpleasant fires in my gut.

“B needed to grab something from her office.”

“And of course she couldn’t do that before she came to get you?” I glance past Cleo at B when she doesn’t come back with a smart-assed reply.

She’s staring behind me at Fionnella, a deer-in-headlights look on her face.

I glance back at Fionnella. Her gaze is on B, but her smile is still firmly in place. What the hell?

“Axel?” Cleo prompts me.

I make the introductions, my voice a little terse. They shake hands, Fionnella cheerily charming.

My nerves fray. Far too much attention is centered on our little party. On Cleo. “Go. Enjoy your lunch.”

She nods, but her eyes are full of questions.

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