Page 50 of Say It Again
“Oh, sorry.” Daniel shook his head clear and finally took his hand, suddenly grateful he was wearing clothing beneath his coat. “I’m Daniel Greene. Nice to meet—”
“No.” Corey’s eyes brightened. “It’s impossible. You’re not the Daniel Greene? The lad who’s purchasing one St. Louis School of Dance?”
His eyebrows dipped a bit. “Yeah.”
“Well, what are the odds? I just reviewed your contract upstairs.” Corey tipped his chin upward. “Looks good, love.”
Daniel slowly dropped his head to one side. Upstairs. Upstairs in Aaron’s apartment? He couldn’t keep the memory of the kiss they’d shared in front of him from bombarding his higher reasoning. Just because Cory had been upstairs just now didn’t mean anything beyond… whatever it meant. But why? “Why would you be looking at the contract? Do you work for Aaron?”
Corey gave him a funny look. “Pardon?”
“At Aaron’s law firm. Do you guys work together or something?”
Corey blinked. It almost looked like he couldn’t quite settle on an expression with his gray eyes narrowing a bit and, at the same time, twinkling, like at any moment, he might burst into laughter. To muddle matters more, he licked his lips and said, “Christ, you are pretty, aren’t you?”
Normally, it’d be the kind of thing to make Daniel moon, regardless of who said it, but his smile lapsed a touch.
“Very young,” Corey said with his gaze plunging the length of his body. “Very fit. I can see why he did it.”
Daniel’s system, wired to overreact, couldn’t help but ignite in fight or flight. His breath sounded behind his words as he asked, “Why he did what?”
Corey grinned—arctic white and uncomfortable—as he slipped a step closer, his hand suddenly on Daniel’s shoulder. “Why he lied.”
He sputtered for a half a minute. Questions, important questions, paraded around his head, but it was like he couldn’t wrangle any of them. “What’d he lie about?”
“Hmm, what did he lie about?” Corey stroked his chin as he gazed around the lobby. “Well, I do not work for him, love. Quite the opposite. See, my friends and I pass him around like a spit bucket at a wine tasting. Does that answer your question?”
Daniel shook his head, but only fractionally. Did it? It didn’t. Or did it?
Corey’s brows slanted as he patted Daniel’s chest. “Aaron is not a lawyer.”
“Well—what? Yes, he is—err. He—”
“He’s not a lawyer.” Corey’s gaze sharpened on his, his words pinpointed and clear. “But he charges by the hour like one.”
Chapter Twelve
A FEW MINUTES later, Daniel stood outside Aaron’s apartment in a puttering daze. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t form words. He barely remembered the elevator ride, his manic thoughts pinging around the walls of his skull like a gymnast on a trampoline.
“Leaving? No? Suit yourself,” Corey had said as he held the door for him, then winked as he slipped through. “See you around, Daniel Greene. Cheers.”
Cheers.
His mind replayed the night he met Aaron over and over. The kiss he’d shared with Corey. To the way Corey had spoken to him—I don’t care if it’s made from holy water, it’s not your job to stand here and drink it. Now he stood at Aaron’s door with a defrosting pizza. My friends and I pass him around like a spit bucket at a wine tasting.
Cheers.
He quietly knocked on the door.
“What’d you forget?” Aaron answered with a toothbrush poking from his mouth. Maybe he hadn’t meant to say that, or maybe the expression Daniel wore was that alarming, but a shade of color evaporated from Aaron’s face. “Daniel.”
What’d who forget? Daniel chewed his lower lip, his voice barely there. “Expecting someone else?”
“No. Uh, what a nice surprise. Come in.” Aaron rushed to the sink to rinse his mouth. “And you brought a pizza? How thoughtful. Here, let me take it.”
Like a spit bucket at a wine tasting. He scanned the apartment as Aaron took the pizza from his arms. One chair at the dining room table was twisted askew like someone had just sat there. Probably reviewing his contract, which lay scattered around the table next to two half-empty tumblers. He tried to keep his voice steady as he said, “What kind of law do you practice?”
Aaron was punching numbers on the oven display in a haste. “What’s that?”