Brady grinned wickedly. “We’re hitting a tattoo parlor. I’m bringing you with me to whisper all sorts of dirty distractions into my ear to take my mind off the pain.”
I rolled my eyes at his usage of tattoo parlor. “I hope you’re not choosing something weird just to prove you’re edgy.”
“Define weird.”
“Getting an actual brand.”
His eyes widened. “Such as a hot branding iron seared onto my skin, like with livestock?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll pass on that one.”
“Good.” I glanced down at his crotch. “I won’t stick around if you choose to get a barber pole tattooed on your . . . well, pole.”
“To be honest, I’m a little scared that you know about that kind of tat.” He paused. “You’ve seen that?”
“No, I’ve seen a couple of different guys who had something similar done. It wasn’t like I dated these dudes; they just felt the need to drop their pants and show me their ink. A friend of mine swore she dated a guy who had his lollipop inked like one of those rainbow-swirl suckers.”
“Not touching that one. But rest assured, no dick tats. No branding. No piercing.” His gaze dropped to my mouth. “Even though I have a new appreciation for them.”
Of course he did. “Where did you decide to go?”
“Zorn.”
“You mean Zorn’s?”
“Yes. Zorn is doing the tat.”
“Zorn himself?”
Brady frowned. “Why? Is there more than one Zorn?”
“No, that’s what I’m saying. You’re having the Zorn do your ink?”
“Yes. He did the design too.”
That must’ve cost him a fortune. Then again, money wasn’t an issue for Brady Lund.
He stroked my cheek. “I’ve wanted to do this for years, Lennox. Being with you just provided the prompt that was already there.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Then let’s go.”
Chapter Twelve
Brady
‡
“Remember,” Lennox warned me, “the phrase ‘tattoo parlor’ is as antiquated as the phrase ‘secretarial pool.’”
“Good to know.”
“You’ve got the design?” she prompted.
I picked up her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “I think you’re more nervous about this tattoo than I am.”
She huffed out a breath. “Of course I am.”
“Why?”
“I’m afraid this is an impulsive decision you’ll regret.”
“Do you regret any of your tats?”
“Just the one on my ass,” she muttered.
“Are you trying to get me hard? Because imagining you naked does have that effect on me¸ Lennox.”
She blushed. I loved seeing that rosy flush on her cheeks.
I opted to parallel park. I’d rather passersby gawked at my car out in the open instead of leaving it to chance in a parking garage.
Lennox got out of the car before I could help her out.
Immediately two guys around my age stopped to check out my car. “Dude. Is that a Maybach?”
“Yes.” I’d ordered it the year I was named CFO. I had to call it an investment to justify the expense, but it was cool as hell to drive such a rare car.
“What’s it got in it?” the surfer-looking dude asked.
“V-twelve.”
“Holy shit.” Then he looked me over. “You a politician or something?”
“Actually, I’m a spy with British intelligence.”
His red-rimmed eyes lit up. “Like James Bond?”
“Exactly.” I slid an arm around Lennox’s waist. “So if you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to be late for my appointment.”
“No problem.” As they strolled away, I heard him say, “The chick he’s with could totally be a Bond girl.”
“See? That’s the ultimate evaluation of your hotness.”
She sighed. “From two stoners.” She stopped and got in my face. “How many cars do you own?”
“Several. Why? We’re not going to get into an argument about the differences in our current financial situations, are we?”
“No.” She started to say something but stopped herself. Then she threaded her fingers through mine and tugged me toward the front door of Zorn’s.
The reception area looked like an upscale salon. Instead of pictures of hair, there were pictures of tattoos and designs. The receptionist sported a head of vibrant blue hair in addition to sleeves on both arms. She was pierced everywhere: lips, ears, nose—even her dimples were dotted with stars. I tried not to stare at the diamond stud piercing below the hollow of her throat, but I couldn’t help but wonder how one got pierced there.