“‘Come what may?’ Exactly how drunk are you right now?”
“I had a beer at McSorley’s on my way over.”
She barks out a laugh. “Sure you did.”
McSorley’s Old Ale House is an awesome old timey Irish pub just down the street from this building. It’s kind of a dive, a little touristy, and the exact opposite kind of a place that I usually go to when I’m in New York. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t go there.
“I’m half Irish. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because your shoes cost more than the décor and furniture in that place.”
“Faulty logic, Coop. I can go anywhere in these shoes. And I suddenly felt the need for a dark ale before facing you.”
“Don’t call me Coop. It warms my heart that the prospect of seeing me would drive you to drink, but they only serve two mugs of beer at a time at McSorley’s.”
“I know. I gave one to the guy who was next to me at the counter. I clinked glasses with him, and I said…” I give her my best Irish accent and prepare to catch her when she swoons because it always brings the ladies to their knees. “‘May the winds of fortune sail you. May you sail a gentle sea. May it always be the other guy who says this drink’s on me.’ And then he said, ‘Here’s to a long life and a merry one. A quick death and an easy one. A pretty girl and an honest one. A cold beer and another one.’” And then I wink at her for good measure.
She narrows her eyes at me, and her fists go straight to her hips. “Don’t you try to brogue me into complying either, Cannavale. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Fair play. Tough customer. “Maddie, I’m not drunk right now. And I’m not lying. And I need an answer.”
“Well then, my answer is no. No way. No way in hell.”
That’s my girl.
“Okay.” My work here is done. I stand up and put my jacket back on. “You still have time to think about it.” I slide the beanie back on, watching her watch my hands the whole time. Yeah. Get a good look at these hands and think long and hard about what you want me to do with them over the holidays.
“I will not be thinking about it.”
“Yeah you will.”
Do I actually think our working relationship would survive a few rounds of hot vacation sex? Yeah. I do. She may not know who she’s dealing with here, but I do. And she can handle it.
“Why would I agree to this?”
“Would you rather be at the office with me on Christmas Day than spend a couple of days and evenings with me in nonwork environments and get some much-needed time off?”
“If you’re going to these events, then it is clearly not as dire for you to work through Christmas as you had led me to believe.”
“I’ll have to make up for lost time, and I’ll be working at the office even when you aren’t there.”
“Really? You’ll be working at the office without me? All by yourself?”
I shrug. “If I have to, yeah,” I say quietly, my shoulders slouching the tiniest bit. Because I am not above trying to make her feel sorry for me right now.
“You know what?” she says. “Thank you for the offer, Mr. Cannavale. I’ll think about it.”
I study her poker face. “You will?”
She smirks and leans toward me. “You sound skeptical.”
I fucking love that smirk.
I know what she’s doing. She thinks she’ll have some kind of power over me if she doesn’t give me an answer one way or another. Look how happy she is right now.
“Okay, Cooper.” I put my gloves on. “You think about it.”
“I shall.” She nods once. “When do you need to know by?”
She needs a deadline. Deadlines for accepting offers are always tricky, but I have a feeling this woman needs as much time as possible to warm up to this idea. “The 22nd. Six pm. But I’ll need you to book travel and accommodations for us ASAP. You can always cancel your flights if necessary.” And before she can open that gorgeous, sassy mouth, I continue. “Separate adjoining rooms at the Ritz-Carlton in Cleveland.”
She frowns as she opens the door to the hallway. “You’re not going to stay with your family?”
“Absolutely not.”
“But they don’t live right in Cleveland, do they?”
“No, they don’t. But the best hotels are there, and I always stay at the Ritz-Carlton. And we’re only staying one night. The night of the 24th. Fly in that afternoon. Fly out the next morning. That’s very important. The wedding’s in Cleveland, so we’ll stay there for that too. I’ll email you the info.”
She’s still frowning at me, and as I pass her on my way out the door, I have the strongest urge to grab her and kiss that mouth. Really give her something to frown about. But I won’t. There’s no kissing in the art of negotiating a deal. And I need this. I need her. I need her for this.
“Uh-huh. And if I decline your offer, will you be traveling alone or selecting some other lucky hot-as-fuck winner?”
God, I love it when she says hot as fuck.
“I’ll probably just cancel everything. I mean, I have to go to the wedding, but…”
“Whose wedding is it, anyway?”
Now I’m frowning. Now I hate everything again. “My brother’s. See you Monday.”
I can hear her sigh of exasperation, followed by a derisive scoff, as I stride down the hall away from her. She thinks I’m being a moody asshole as usual, and that’s fine. I’ll be having flowers sent to Mrs. Pavlovsky—to thank her for letting me in today. And to keep Cooper’s nosey landlady on my team.
Art of the deal.
Deal with it, Maddie Cooper.
Eight
Piper
MADDIE AND DECLAN, SITTIN’ IN A CHRISTMAS TREE
K-i-s-s-i-n-g. That’s what they were doing. With their eyes and their words.
They would kiss with their lips eventually.
It was
