Stealing His Heart(16)
“Oh, come on.” She batted her lashes at him.
He’d known she would try it, but he couldn’t help but be affected. His resolve to refuse her every whim slipped, and it was on the tip of his tongue to agree to take her to the carnival just to see her smile at him again. Just to make her happy—for old times’ sake. Damn her and her eyelashes.
“Please?” she asked, her tone soft and pleading.
“No.” Gathering his tattered resolve, he pulled free and headed for the couch. “Do some work first like a good little girl, and then maybe we’ll go to the carnival.”
She followed him. “That’s no fun.”
“Responsible people work, and then play once they’re finished.”
“‘All work and no play makes Jake a dull boy,’” she quoted.
He stared down at his knees. “That’s fine. I can live with being dull, as long as people know they can rely on me to get the job done. Speaking of which…”
Opening the notebook on the table, he sighed. He had to work. Adults such as himself had real responsibilities and duties—and damn it, he wanted to go to the fucking carnival.
Maybe he could win her a big stuffed kitten, like he used to, and she would let him name it. He couldn’t help but wonder what happened to all of the animals he had won for her over the years. Once upon a time, she’d loved them, because she hadn’t had any real pets.
Why didn’t she have any now? No one was stopping her anymore. She’d always wanted a cat. An orange one. “Tell me exactly what you did when you broke in.”
“I’m trying to remember.” She flopped down next to him dramatically. “I really don’t remember what I did. I’m good, but I’m not that good.”
“Yeah, you are.” Pulling the cap of the pen off with his teeth, he turned to her and froze. She stared at his mouth, much as he’d probably been doing to hers earlier. Fuck. He cleared his throat, and she tore her gaze off his lips. “You went into the safe. Then you…?”
She flipped her long, wavy brown hair over a shoulder. A dimple popped out to play when she pressed her lips together, then promptly hid again. “I plugged my phone in.”
“Your phone?”
“Yeah. It tells me what I need to know once it’s connected.”
He shook his head. “They really do have an app for everything, don’t they?”
“They do, but I developed this one.” Leaning forward, she picked up her mug and sipped her coffee. “Or, my team did, anyway.”
He blinked. “You have a whole fucking team?”
“Yeah.” She peeked at him out of the corner peripheral vision. “I have a business, Jake. Not a hobby. It’s legit—mostly.”
“Yeah. Sure,” he scoffed. “And I’m the president of the United States.”
She clunked her coffee mug down. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He tapped the pen on the side of the notebook. “What did you do after you used your nifty little homemade app?”
“I got the vase and got the hell out of there before I got caught.”
“Too bad I caught you anyway,” he said, his voice hard. “How many times have you been caught?”
“None.”
“One,” he corrected.
She took another sip, ignoring him. “Can we go now? It’s the last day the carnival is in town.”
“You’re like a child who won’t give up.” He picked up his own coffee. A surge of irritation at her behavior hit him, but he fought it back. “What is it going to take to get you to concentrate?”
“Easy. A carnival trip.”
He dropped his head against the back of the couch, amusement at her steadfastness warring with his irritation at her insistence that they go to the carnival. “Jesus, Tara.”
She laughed and set her mug down. “What? It’s true.”
He slammed the notebook shut. “If I take you to the carnival will you actually work tonight? If we don’t get this finished—”
“I go to jail. Yeah, yeah. I know. I heard you the first million times. And, yes. I will.” She held one hand up and placed the other on her heart. “I solemnly swear that as soon as we get home, I’ll try to remember what I did. And tomorrow, I’ll wake up early and be at your beck and call all day long. Happy?”
“Yeah.” He had a tic in his cheek. That’s what she did to him. “Fucking thrilled.”
She arched a brow. “You curse a lot more than you used to.”
“Yeah.” He stood carefully, making sure not to put too much pressure on his left leg. “Is it open yet?”