The mall is bright, clean, totally void of personality. Dark tile floor, high ceilings, big windows letting in the desert sun.

My eyes stay glued to Tom's jeans, to the pocket where he keeps his phone. Hard to remember what we're doing here. Hazel still hasn't returned his call.

She needs to say yes.

I have no clue what I'll do if she doesn't say yes.

The air conditioning sends goose bumps over my flesh. I rub my biceps with my palms to fight a shiver. It doesn't help. A brrr escapes my lips.

Tom slides his arm around my waist, pulls my body into his.

It's not cold anymore.

It's scorching.

This is not at all appropriate for platonic friends, but God knows I'm not about to point that out. His body feels good.

Too good. My mind goes blank except for this loud voice screaming more.

I step aside. It's the only way to keep my wits about me. We're ten feet from a chain department store. I guess we're here for clothes. So I can look like the proper kind of hit-the-clubs woman who belongs on Tom's arm.

My gaze goes back to the front pocket of his jeans.

"Willow. Hello." He waves his hand in front of my face. "What's interesting in my pants? Besides the obvious."

I say nothing.

"If you want me to whip it out, you should ask. Staring won't get you anywhere."

Whip it out? Seriously? The man is deranged if he thinks I'd actually ask that.

"You okay?"

I shake my head. "What if Hazel says no?"

"She won't."

"How do you know that?"

"You want me to call her again?"

"Of course."

"Hmm... I don't know. What's in it for me?"

"Please."

He lets out a soft groan but says nothing about it.

"Please." I press my palms together. Self-respect is much less important than working with Hazel Alexander. "I'll beg."

"Don't beg. I'll get ideas." He slides his arm around my lower back and holds me in place. His other hand goes to his phone. He dials and brings the thing to his ear. "Hey, Hazel. It's Tom."

Success! I can just barely hear her on the other line.

She's no-nonsense. "Yes... if you know she's dependable... Lot of grunt work... Look forward to meeting Willow tomorrow."

"Later." Tom hangs up his phone and slides it into his pocket. He releases his grip around my waist then looks at his arm like he's not sure how it got there.

"She said yes?" I ask.

He stares back at me with a wide smile, clearly enjoying tormenting me. "Did she?"

"You're killing me."

"Yes, she said yes. She's looking forward to meeting you."

I throw my arms around him and squeeze tight. Tom steps back, surprised, then he moves forward. Hugs me back.

He feels good. Hard. Safe.

"You that excited?" His voice is apprehensive.

"Yeah." I pull my arms to my sides. "Sorry. I shouldn't have jumped at you like that."

"It's all right. Just surprising."

It is? But he's experienced. "You've slept with 500 different women."

"Don't really stop to cuddle." He runs a hand through his hair. "I just... uh." He shoves his hands into his pockets. "You're going to stay through the tour?"

Fuck yes. I'll stay anywhere to work with Hazel Alexander. I nod.

"Then you'll need clothes. You only have that." He nods to my messenger bag. "You need help picking out stuff for clubs or you have that covered?"

"I can manage." Probably.

"Just, uh, make sure you pick out some lingerie."

Say what? I stare back into Tom's eyes but it doesn't help me figure out what he's getting at. "Why?"

He pulls out his wallet and counts out a thousand dollars in hundreds. "It's a surprise."

He is incredibly obvious about handing me the money.

I shove it in my purse before anyone can get ideas about mugging me. "What is this?"

"An advance on your salary. We're going to take our first set of pictures today. Get everything you need for the rest of the tour. Plus at least one set of matching lingerie."

I raise an eyebrow. He just smiles and nods to a bench outside the department store. "I'll be here."

* * *

It takes two long, exhausting hours of shopping to get everything I need. After I finish, Tom leads me to the parking garage, back to his flashy red convertible. It's a bright contrast against the beige concrete walls and the dusty asphalt.

Tom unlocks the trunk, stuffs my bags inside. Something in his expression changes. The softness in his eyes is disarming.

He leans against the car next to me. "Listen, kid. I hate to risk ruining the mood but I need to know what it is you're running from."

"Why?"

"A deal is a deal."

It's true. A deal is a deal. I take a deep breath. The air smells of gasoline. It's quiet. I can hear my heart beat.

"You're not okay," he says.

"Yes, I am."

"You're running from something bad, huh?"

"No. Just..." I pull my hands into my lap. "Just the normal stuff."

"Normal. Is that why you're cringing?"

"I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. Whatever it is, it's not normal."

I turn to face him. "It's very normal."

"Bullshit. You want me to call Hazel and tell her you're a liar?"

"Would you really do that?"

"I might." He stares into my eyes. "Been known to do whatever it takes to get what I want."

"You swear you won't tell Drew?"

"Why should it matter if—"

"Swear or I'm not telling you."

He nods.

Panic fills my stomach. I stare back at Tom. There's something earnest about him, something trustworthy. But that's not enough. I need to be sure.

"Seriously," I say. "If you tell Drew, everything is going to be fucked. You have to promise."

"I won't tell him. We're friends. Any secret of yours is just between us. Same goes for any secret of mine."

"Okay."

His shoulder presses against mine. He's warm.

"I live in an apartment in Berkley. A little studio in a six unit building. Mom didn't take me changing my major to photography too well. I moved out before she had the chance to kick me out. The place is a great deal and about all I can afford. I don't really have a choice about moving. Not without some serious cash."

He stares back at me. "I get that."

"My ex-boyfriend showed up as my new next door neighbor. Convinced my landlord that he's a nice, dependable guy I guess."

"He hurt you?"

"Someone always gets hurt when a relationship ends."

"He hit you?"

I can’t answer that. "I don't want to be around him. That's all."

"Yeah, sure."

His fingertips brush my wrist. The touch is soft and delicate. How can someone who comes in like a God damn wrecking ball have such a delicate touch?

I say nothing. He responds with silence. We lean against the car, him looking at me, me trying hard not to notice how he's staring.

Minutes pass. My heartbeat, my breath—both slow to something normal. Until the only thing mixing me up is how badly I want the comfort of Tom's arm around me again.

I step sideways, adjust my clothes, anything to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied.

"You have a picture or something?" Tom asks. "For our head of security. I'll make sure he keeps it from Drew."

I nod. There are lots of pictures of him online, from his college football days. I pick the most recent one.

"Thanks." Tom borrows my phone for a minute then hands it back. "It's okay. I'll make sure he's not around."

"It's nothing."

"Yeah. Of course."

I nod. Of course it's nothing. But I'm not selling that story. Not even a little bit.

Tom studies me. He must decide I'm okay, because the serious look drops off his face.

He slides his arm around my waist. "You're probably caffeine deprived. Let's get a coffee or something."

* * *

After an almond milk latte and a one-sided conversation about horror movies, I am over-caffeinated and sufficiently distracted. It's clear why Tom runs around like a monkey on cocaine. The man drinks an ungodly amount of iced coffee.

His fingertips skim my palm. He's back to his usual bouncy self. No cracks, no softness, no signs he's ever been hurt.

He looks me in the eyes. "You feeling properly energized?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I have an idea. Want to indulge me?"

"Depends on what your idea is."

"The tabloids need to know about my new fuck buddy," he says.

I'm not following. "You don't have a fuck buddy."

"Sure I do." He nods to me. "She's a mystery girl with an edgy hairstyle and great taste in men."

He means me. Okay. This might work.

"You're game?" He asks.

Maybe. I nod anyway.

"Then let's take a picture of us fucking."