Page 22 of Token

“No, not my sister. I need you. This is your area of expertise. This is where you shine.”

Kennedy furrowed her brow, genuinely perplexed. “But, Nate, you already have a diverse workforce. You don’t need me.” At the end of the day, that was the ultimate goal of her services. The lawsuit was a hiccup.

“No, you’re wrong. I do need you,” he said, and for a fleeting moment, she thought he meant more than just her professional services. But of course that couldn’t be it. He didn’t feel that way about her. He’d made that clear enough the past several years.

“Come on, Nate. You know the rules,” she lightly chided. “Representing family can be...problematic.”

“But we’re not family, which is why I’m asking you.”

Kennedy shifted uncomfortably but managed to maintain eye contact. “But Aurorais, and she owns half the agency.”

“And because of that, you’re going to deny me your expertise?” he asked with an arched brow.

Okay, if she had to judge herself objectively, she would humbly admit that she was good, but she wasn’t the only game in town and certainly not the most esteemed. “How do you know how good I am? You’ve been in France since we opened the agency.” And they’d had a total of twenty clients, none of which his company had ever done business with. At least, not that she was aware of.

A softening around his mouth eased the grimness of his expression. “Because I know you. Not only did you graduate at the top of your class, you’re good at anything you set your mind to. Why wouldn’t I want you on my side?”

Kennedy slowly shook her head. “I’m really sorry, Nate, but it’s an agency policy I can’t break.” Work with Nate? Take him on as a client? Nope, not in a million years.

Her refusal sent him into used-car-salesman mode. “C’mon, Kennedy. You’re a genius at this stuff. I’ve seen you in action. You can charm the mustache and beard off Santa Claus. You’ll have the guys who put out those hit-job pieces eating out of your hand. All I want you to do is put your talents to use for me. And to prove I’m on the up-and-up, I won’t even ask for a discount. As a matter of fact, I’m willing to pay above the going rate if you can squeeze me in today.”

If you can squeeze me in today.Kennedy simultaneously cleared her throat and dragged her mind out of the gutter. “I can recommend the best—”

“No. No.” He held up his hand to her. “I don’t want anyone else. There’s no one better at this than you. And as my sister’s best friend, I would think you’d want me to be represented by the best.”

He looked and sounded as if he meant it. That he wasn’t simply trying to flatter her.

“I’m sorry, Nate, but I can’t.” She intended to come across as firm and decisive, but her voice refused to cooperate. A part of her came perilously close to wavering. Thankfully, it wasn’t enough to overcome her sense of self-preservation. “You need someone who is—who is less—” Damn, how did she say it without showing all her cards?

In an abrupt move, he leaned forward in his chair. “No one else is going to know me like you do.”

Her heart thumped in response as she gave a short laugh. “Nate, we’ve barely seen each other the last two years. I would hardly say I know you that well anymore.”

He sat up straight, his brows shooting up. “What? So now you don’t know me?”

His words struck her ears like a challenge. Perhaps she should have phrased it differently, but it was too late to take it back. In for a pound and all that.

Stiffening her spine, she replied, “No, Nate, I don’t think I do. At least, not the man you are now,” she tagged on, to give more credence to her statement.

Chuckling low in his throat, he caught and held her gaze. “Kennedy, I was your first. You gave me your virginity. If that doesn’t say you know me and I know you, then I don’t know what does.”

6

Kennedy’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at him, unblinking. She couldn’t believe he’d gone there. A place they’d never gone before. Not in all the years since it had happened.

An involuntary shiver delayed her response.

In the breach of silence, Nate watched her, head tipped to the side and brows lifted. “What?” he asked, a note of challenge in his dulcet tones. A bit of smugness there too. “I was only stating facts, since you appear to have forgotten just how—” he inserted a meaningful pause “—intimately we’re acquainted.”

Not coincidentally, the recovery of speech coincided with the collection of her wits. “Why would you say that?”

She was genuinely bewildered because between them existed an unwritten agreement to never speak about the incident. Correction, incidents plural, since it had happened more than once. Okay, more than twice. Fine, it had happened more times than she had fingers, but that wasn’t the point. The point was they shouldn’t be having this discussion.

But apparently, telepathic agreements weren’t worth the paper they weren’t written on, because he’d rebutted her claims as if he’d been quietly biding his time, waiting for just this moment to arise.

And now it was out there, sitting between them like a piece of luggage left in the middle of a hallway that could hardly contain its bulk. For years, it had sat there unencumbered yet an impediment. They had been the ones encumbered, ever careful not to disturb it as they’d sidled by, bodies pressed tightly against the wall to avoid contact.

It was clear Nate had made the decision he wasn’t sidling anymore. The luggage had to go.

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