There’s a moment of awkward silence before she turns and walks down the hall. I continue to watch long after she’s rounded the corner and probably disappeared inside her office.

Justin steps up beside me. “How’d it go in there?” he asks, motioning to the conference room.

I clap my hand on his shoulder and give him my best smile. “Great,” I say. “In fact, it looks like we have a lot of research to do. Tell me, what do you know about YouTube?”

A plan begins to form in my head as he prattles on excitedly, and even though it makes me feel a little underhanded, it takes hold. I need this job. I need to figure out a way to make this work for me. Brad may think Evie’s the right one for the position, but that’s only because he hasn’t seen what I can do.

If I have to do a little homework and learn everything there is to learn—and more—about my client list and hers, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

There is no way I’m losing to Evil.

chapter eleven

evie

Date: Fri, Oct 30 at 4:12 PM

From: Kylie Salisbury

To: Carter Aaron; Evelyn Abbey

Subject: Department Retreat

Hi Evie, Carter,

Brad has asked that the two of you be in charge of the annual department retreat up in Big Bear. It is back on the calendar for January 14–16. As Evie knows, I’ve organized it the last two years, so let me know when is a good time for the three of us to sit down and go over the format, activities, and any other relevant details.

Best,

Kylie

I’ve read the email about seven times and still am not sure I understand it. I walk into Daryl’s office and have her confirm I’ve read it correctly. I call Amelia in to have her verify that I am not, in fact, reading this wrong.

Wasn’t this canceled? Is it back on—but this time with senior agents in charge of the itinerary? Am I having a stroke?

Apparently, I’m not. On top of everything else on our plates, Carter and I have been given an assistant’s task: organize the departmental retreat.

Brad is a piece of work.

Since this isn’t coming from Brad himself, I have no way of knowing the subtext, but I’m sure there is one. It’s possible Kylie dropped the ball somewhere, but it’s more possible that this is Brad’s first twist in the P&D Hunger Games.

I lean against Daryl’s door, rubbing my face.

“This means I’m going to have to talk to him,” I say. Two weeks ago this wouldn’t have seemed like such a bad thing because (let’s be honest) I wanted to talk my way into his pants. But after Carter’s pouty blow-off—Let’s have dinner, oh wait, you got a better list than I did, no dinner for you!—I’m beginning to think the best strategy is just to never, ever interact with him at the office again.

Which . . . surprisingly, wouldn’t be that hard. With new clients and new coworkers on top of my normal schedule, I’ve been completely swamped. In the past week and a half, I’ve arrived at work by eight and stayed long after the office is empty, had nine lunch meetings, eleven meetings after work over drinks, and wall-to-wall clients during work hours. I’ve barely seen Carter. Except for when I watch him leave his office and find a way to enjoy the view from behind all the way down the hall . . .

I have a short break between a lunch meeting and an off-site and hope I can catch him for a few minutes. Because the odds of me wrestling him out of anger or lust are roughly equivalent, I decide to call in Daryl’s IOU for ditching me at Steph’s party and make her act as chaperone, possibly witness.

I am the best of friends.

We stop outside his office door, and I lift my fist, giving a single tentative knock.

Normally, Carter isn’t really a closed-door kind of guy. From what I’ve seen so far, he’s always in the hall talking to people, or has two or three other agents in his office. I get that it’s just a way we do business differently—I tend to be to the point, friendly but brief, whereas he chats and wanders. Everyone likes Carter. I know he’s been crazy busy this week, too, but he always seems to have a moment to say hi to someone, to stop and socialize for a spell.

I realize this makes our styles complementary, and I get a warm little pull in my stomach.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could collaborate?

Wouldn’t it be nice if he didn’t immediately turn into a threatened, competitive jackass?

“Stop it,” Daryl says, and I look over to her.

“Stop what?”

“You’re fidgeting. You’re supposed to be a badass here. Badasses don’t fidget. And don’t give me that face; this is exactly why you brought me.”

“Okay, right right.” I close my eyes, summoning my inner badass. “I’m Uma Thurman in Kill Bill. Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2. Sigourney Weaver in Aliens—because let’s be honest, that’s really where she came into her own. Fascinating that it’s the sequels where those two really—”

“Will you focus?”

When he calls out, “Come in,” I’m a little taken aback at the way his voice sounds—deep and quiet, not at all his normal easygoing tone. It reminds me of how he sounded against me, on my bed, and I want to walk repeatedly into the nearest wall.

This whole situation would be about a million times easier if I didn’t want to kiss him as much as I want to shove him.

Pushing open the door, I look up to find him sitting at his desk, hair messy, glasses crooked. He’s oddly rumpled.

“Hey, Evie.” His expression is hard to read. Surprised, maybe. Nervous? A little. Good.

Carter looks behind me to where Daryl has just walked right into my back.

“Thanks for the warning,” she says, rubbing her nose. I should be more careful; she paid a lot of money for that nose.

“I don’t think we’ve officially met,” Carter says, and stands to walk around the desk, reaching out to shake Daryl’s hand. “Carter Aaron. New guy.”

“Daryl Jordan. Sagittarius.”

“Aries,” he says with a sly grin. “You know that makes us most compatible out of all the zodiac signs.”

My God in heaven.

Daryl smiles, charmed. “Convenient, considering you’re my new best friend for knowing that.”

I turn to her, eyes wide. Traitor.

“I didn’t peg you for an astrology buff,” I say, not sure which of them I should glare at first. “Big horoscope reader, Carter?”