After a two-hour meeting where, after the fact, I had to change out of my shirt because I was sweating so much, Ren decided that I was brilliant.

My strategy was simple—plaster Reid and our relationship everywhere. Make people believe he was a dedicated actor who was truly trying to seduce the socks off me while making me approachable for other men, and well, what could go wrong? Nothing. Again, I controlled the narrative, not the other way around. Besides, it could have been a nightmare, because who knew what kind of crazy broad Reid could have ended up with? And even though I’d dug my heels into the ground and nearly strangled him to death when he said my name, the ball was going to always be in my court, so I had nothing to worry about.

I even had a staged breakup planned after a few weeks that I’d be able to spin in Reid’s favor. Reid gave me confidence, he made my heart soar, it’s just meant to soar in another direction. Blah, blah, blah.

Brilliant.

“Damn,” a voice whispered in my ear, lips grazing the edges, making my body shiver with excitement. “You look killer in black. And don’t even get me started on those heels. Your legs would look so good . . .” He stopped talking and flipped me around to face him. “Sorry, finishing that sentence would have been borderline inappropriate due to our publicist-client relationship.” Reid winked.

While I nearly choked on my spit and begged him to finish what he was going to say.

I didn’t realize my mouth was open until he nudged it closed with his thumb and winked.

“Er.” Oh, good, lots of brilliance coming from my end. “How was work?”

Shoot me now.

Reid gave me a curious stare, then waved the bartender over. “Well, you’ll be happy to know the kiss was awesome, thanks to your tutelage.”

“Mama’s so proud,” I teased.

“Yeah, poorer words have never been chosen.” Reid nodded. “Seriously, you kissed me, you didn’t make my lunch, Jordan.”

I winced. Did I really just compare myself to his mother? After visually assaulting his body with my eyes?

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

“Rum and Coke for this one.” He pointed to me. “Make it a double, and I’ll have a gin and tonic with two limes.”

I purposefully ignored the fact that he remembered my drink and crossed my arms. “Two limes. Go wild. That’s what I always say.”

“I almost said three but didn’t want to freak you out.” Reid casually leaned against the bar and gazed out at the patrons. “This place is pretentious and filled with trust fund babies, you know this, right?”

“All part of the plan.” I eyed all the twentysomethings and their inability to put down their phones. “Trust.”

Our drinks arrived.

“Shall we?” Reid held out his arm. “I mean, I take it we are eating, right?”

“Dinner and a show.” I nodded. “It’s what we promised.”

“We?”

“Me.”

“To?”

“Does it matter?” I fired back, enjoying our little exchange. “That is the mission, if you choose to accept it.”

“Somebody’s been watching too much Mission: Impossible, but I’ll bite.” He turned his aqua eyes in my direction.

I stopped walking and took a slow sip of my drink. Top-shelf. Did I mention he remembered my order? Yes?

“Just do what you normally do during a date. The mission is to get you trending on Twitter. The only way to do that? Be THAT date.”

“That?”

“Yup.”

“I don’t understand whatever language you’re speaking. You’re cute as hell when you get that I want to take over the world look on your face. But I’m completely lost.”

“Grand gestures,” I explained. “Doing something out of the ordinary. Making girls swoon and guys want to punch you in the throat.”

“Guys always want to punch me in the throat.” Reid shrugged.

“Have I mentioned how much I love your humility?”

“Fine.” Reid ignored me and looked around the restaurant as we made our way to the hostess stand. “Big gestures, like roses?”

I frowned. “Reid, roses? Roses are for pubescent preteens who have acne and headgear! I’m talking flash mob, breaking out into song, getting down on one knee, reciting a freaking poem!”

The more I talked, the more Reid paled.

“You have done things that like before, right? To get the girl?”

Reid tugged at his collar while my hand clenched tighter around my glass. “Reid?”

“Hmm?” he croaked, then downed the rest of his drink as his shifty eyes glanced at the door. If he made a run for it, I was going to throw my shoe at his head; that would at least get something going on social media.

“Reid.”

He motioned me to step closer. I did.

He motioned more.

Rolling my eyes, I leaned up on my tiptoes while he whispered in my ear. “I’m slightly . . . shy.”

“What?” I roared, jerking back so fast I nearly became one with the potted tree behind me.

“Shh,” Reid snapped as he tried to stabilize my drunken movements. “Keep your voice down!”

“How are you shy?” I smacked him in the arm. “You’re Reid Emory!”

“Shout my name a little louder. I don’t think the grandpa sitting outside on the park bench heard you!”