Page 23 of Love Contract

I doubt that very much.

“Sucks working for Angus?” I say, smiling.

“You can’t imagine.”

“Are you sure? I’ve got a pretty good imagination…”

I let my eyes drop just for a moment, satisfying myself that, yes, Theo still looks like some sort of stern business ballerina, and it’s still hot as hell. When I return to her face, that pretty pink flush is back in her cheeks, which makes me want to do it more.

She says, “One time I peed myself because he made me take notes on his dreams for four hours.”

That’s awful, but I can’t help laughing. Thank god Theo smiles, too, eventually.

“I can’t decide what’s worse…peeing your pants or listening to someone’s dream?”

“Not just listening…taking notes. Pagesof notes…” Theo pouts adorably, her lower lip sticking out. “Oh well. The chair I peed on was his favorite, so I got the last laugh in the end.”

I’m snorting. Theo looks startled for a moment, and then pleased at how hard she made me laugh. A little piece of hair has slipped out of her bun, trailing across the edge of her eyebrow.

I donotreach across the table and smooth it back with my hand—I’ll save that shit for when Angus is watching. But the urge keeps nagging at me all the same.

“Angus is already looking at land,” Theo warns me.

“I’ll handle all of that—don’t tell him what I do and definitely don’t mention the land.”

Theo frowns at me, her adorable version of a scowl, about as frightening as an angry kitten. “Is this how you always do business?”

I shrug. “Every deal’s different. It’s a fucking jungle out there; the only constant is you have to improvise. Winners are the people who can react to shit going wrong because it always does. It’ll be the same for you when you open your restaurant—you know, eighty percent of them fail in the first five years.”

Theo lifts her chin. “Not mine.”

There’s that fire again, so fragile it seems like a puff could blow it out, but it always surges back again.

I lift my water to toast her. “To beating the odds.”

A genuine grin creeps across Theo’s face. I haven’t gotten many of those out of her yet. It starts slowly but gradually brightens, revealing a row of pretty teeth and a tiny dimple on the right side.

Theo raises her glass and touches it against mine.

“To beating the odds.”

6

THEO

The morning of the yacht party, I find a grubby envelope stuffed under my door that informs me that the building managers have heard the many complaints about the humongous roaches and will finally be fumigating.

This seems like good news until I realize they expect us to vacate the premises for an entire week.

Shit.

Getting a hotel will be pricey. I could ask Martinique if I could stay at her place, but she lives in a studio even tinier than mine. Her kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom are all one room, with a plastic curtain and about two feet of space dividing the shower and bed.

I feel that sinking feeling I get when I remember that outside of Martinique, I really don’t have anybody. Nobody I can call for a big favor in a pinch. Nobody I could rely on if I was sick or injured. Even if I had a really good piece of news…there’s no particular person I’d be dying to tell.

How did I get so isolated?

This job sure hasn’t helped. I haven’t been on a date in months.

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