Since the tat was on the inside of my left forearm, I had the ability to adjust the chair from a sitting to a reclining position. For the first hour I sat upright and talked with Lennox about the “getting to know you” stuff we’d skipped. Then the next hour Zorn and I talked. He was an interesting guy. He’d put his art degree to good use in a field where he actually made a great living. Once he learned I was in finance, he picked my brain about investments. Some of my colleagues in the investment world played their strategies so close to the vest you’d think they were guarding the secrets of the universe. But I was more of the mind-set that all businesses needed professional advice from time to time and I was more than happy to pay it forward.
After Zorn took a quick break, he resumed inking the design and I dozed off during hour three. When I woke up, I heard the buzz buzz buzz of another tattoo machine and looked over to see Lennox in the chair next to mine. I lifted a brow at her.
“Just getting the ink refreshed. I figured since I’d be rubbing gel on you, you could return the favor.”
“As long as you’re here, maybe you oughta get the one on your ass touched up too.”
“Brady!”
“Just trying to be helpful, baby.”
Zorn laughed.
“You know, that is a great idea, baby,” she said in that sexy tone that always got me hard—even when she was being sarcastic. “We’ll stick around after Zorn is done with yours. I’m sure it won’t bother you at all when you see Zorn’s hands all over my bare butt. Because one ass pretty much looks like the next one, huh, Zorn?”
“Not even fucking close, babe,” Zorn said. “Some asses are a joy to work on.”
A joy? Oh, hell no. “I changed my mind. The tattoo on your butt is just fine the way it is.”
Lennox smirked. “I thought you might say that.”
Zorn laughed again. “Now you two play nice—you’re blowing my concentration.”
After he finished, he sent Tawny in with aftercare instructions and he disappeared into the back room.
And it was done.
The whole thing was a little anticlimactic, really.
I paid and put my shirt and suit jacket back on while I waited in the reception area for Lennox to finish up. With the aftercare booklet was a photocopy of Zorn’s design with a color key for each section.
“Is that your tat?” Lennox asked, peering over my arm.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“The Jensen family crest and the Lund corporate logo melded into one image. I sent Zorn the two images and he combined them into one design.”
“Brady. That is really cool.”
I pushed a flyaway hank of her hair behind her ear. “You approve?”
“Yes.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed me. “It means something to you, so now I believe you won’t have regrets.” She smirked. “At least until your high-society family freaks that the prodigal son got a tattoo.”
“I’ve got a plan for that.” I kissed her nose. “Blame you.”
“If that’s the case, then I’m skipping the family deal this weekend.”
I tugged her against me. “I was joking.”
“So we’re still on for dinner?”
“It’s almost nine thirty.”
“So?”
I happened to glance out the window and in the streetlight’s glow I saw it had started snowing. “The Maybach isn’t good in this weather.”
“Did you do this on purpose?”
“What? Make it snow?”
She rolled her eyes. “Take the fancy car, knowing the weather was going to turn. And then you’ll be all like, ‘Maybe you should just stay at my place tonight, Lennox.’ Wink-wink, nudge-nudge.”
“And that idea is appalling to you?”
“It’s manipulative. You said you’d take me to dinner. Now you’re trying to turn it into something else. So you know what? Forget it. I’ll just take a cab home.”
Lennox acted possessive in public, but when it came time for the two of us to spend time alone . . . she balked? That made no sense. And since the snow was coming down harder, I didn’t have time to wait around while she waged an internal war with herself.
“If that’s what you want,” I said to her. “Thanks for coming along. I’ll see you at the office.” I popped the collar of my jacket and hustled outside to my car.
*
Lennox
My arm had started to sting from my tattoo touch-up.
At least that’s what I’d told myself when I poured bourbon into my hot tea.
I’d needed a shot of alcohol to calm me down. I hadn’t retreated from Brady because I was afraid of how the night would end. I’d retreated from Brady because I’d known exactly how it would end.