Rules Of Engagement

6

3

MADDIE

W

hen we’re alone, Mason and I engage in a long stare-off where the only sound is the clock ticking on the wall and the air conditioning whispering through the vents.

I hold his gaze, waiting for him to speak first. If he thinks I’ll be intimidated by

him, he’ll be disappointed. I’ve got four older brothers. I can play the staring game for days.

A muscle in Mason’s jaw starts to flex. A while after that, he says, “You’re not blinking.”

“Funny, I was just thinking the same about you.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn you were thinking about stabbing me in the neck with that letter opener on your desk.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I pause for a beat. “I just had the carpet cleaned.”

His lips do that twitching thing again. “You’re right. A neck wound would produce a lot of blood.

You could push me out the window.”

“I would, but we’re on the ground floor.”

“Good point. Rat poisoning?”

“Tempting. However, I have no interest in going to prison.”

His smirk makes a reappearance. “Too busy doing single lady things, hmm? And who would take care of all the cats while you were away?”

I take a moment to consider how long I would go to jail for murdering a famous athlete, but decide he’s not worth the trouble. “I don’t own cats, but thanks for that zinger. You must be very proud of yourself. Was there something you wanted to say to me, Mr. Spark?”

His smirk fades. For a moment, he seems hesitant. A crease forms between his brows. He chews his lower lip. I can almost imagine how he looked as a boy, sweet and shy.

But then he folds his big arms over his chest and stares down his nose at me, and the illusion of sweetness vanishes.

He says accusingly, “Aren’t you supposed to meet your clients before you start setting them up on dates?”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“Today’s the first time we’ve met.”

Hello, Captain Obvious. I take a breath and square my shoulders. Dealing with this man requires the patience of a saint. “Normally, yes. However, d**k made it clear that you weren’t available to come in for a personal—”

“You didn’t even call me.”

I look at him askance. Where’s he going with this? “d**k informed me he’d be the liaison between us. But you filled out an extensive personal profile—”

“So you thought you knew me from some questions I answered?”

I open my mouth, close it, then take a moment to compose myself. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

He says deliberately, “You knew who Mason Spark was before today. Right?”

I’m not sure why he’s pushing this particular point, but I decide to proceed with caution. He’s got more money than God, and I can’t afford to defend a lawsuit. Business is going well, but I don’t have a spare hundred grand lying around.

And we all know how litigious people are these days. Even though my client contracts are thorough and I make no guarantees about outcomes, nothing is bulletproof. This man could ruin me if he really wanted to.

I say carefully, “Many of my clients are successful business people who don’t have the time to meet me in person. Or they live out of state, and an office visit would be inconvenient. But we complete full background checks, verify identities, and confirm—” “Answer the question.”

Interrupt me one more time, and you’ll never be able to father children. I count to ten, reminding myself of all the reasons slicing off his testicles with my new scissors would be a bad idea. “I was aware of the name Mason Spark, yes.”

“You’ve read about me in the tabloids,” he says flatly.

“I don’t read the tabloids.”

“Online gossip sites?”

I stifle an exasperated sigh and stare at him. “No, Mr. Spark. I’m far too busy looking after my two dozen cats to have time to troll gossip sites.”

I can tell he wants to smile at that, but he doesn’t. “How’d you hear about me, then?” “Because I don’t live in a cave?” His expression sours.

Folding my arms across my chest to mirror his posture, I say, “I grew up in a home with five males. I’ll let you guess what was on TV every week between September and January.”

He pauses for a beat, staring at me skeptically. “You’re a football fan?”

I chuckle. “That’s much too generic. I’m a Patriots fan.”

Mason looks as if he’s physically ill and is about to barf all over my desk. “Lemme guess.

Because Tom Brady’s just so dreamy.”

The amount of condescension in his tone could flatten entire city blocks.

If this meeting ends without the police being called, it will be a miracle.

“No, because Bill Belichick’s philosophy of stressing team work, preparation, strong work ethic, and lack of individual ego has led to six Super Bowl victories, eighteen consecutive winning seasons since 2001, a record for most wins in a ten-year period, the longest winning streak of regular season and playoff games in NFL history, the most consecutive division titles won by a team in NFL history, and the most Super Bowl appearances by a team in NFL history.”