Free Bargaining with the Boss by Allison Gatta Page A

Natalie and gauge her reaction, but her poker face was better than expected.
    The contestant chose the etiquette category, and Brooks glanced at Natalie again as Alex read the question: "In this country, it is considered rude to cut your potatoes."
    "Germany." The answer shot from her before he'd had the opportunity to open his mouth.
    "How the hell would you know something like that?" he asked.
    She shrugged, and he fought the urge to scratch his head like a confused cartoon character. Dumb luck, maybe.
    That had to explain it.
    "Haven't you done business in Germany?" she asked.
    He shook his head. "Not yet. We have talks there in a few months.
    "It's the best. I love eating in Germany. They have the noodles and the gravy and the chocolate." She smacked her lips, and he repressed another laugh.
    "The best part," she continued, "is that it's a compliment to burp at the end of a meal. It's pretty much the best place ever."
    "I'll keep that in mind. So, now your list of international travel expands again. Paris, Asia—"
    She hushed him. "Next question."
    On the TV, Alex cleared his throat and then asked a question about newspapers and circulation.
    " New York Times ," Brooks guessed
    "No, it's The Wall Street Journal ."
    "I'm telling you, I'm right."
    The buzzer sounded, and Alex said, “That would be The Wall Street Journal . When we come back from the break--"
    Brooks clicked off the television. "That's it. I quit. You're clearly cheating."
    "How could I cheat?'
    "You've seen this episode before."
    "Oh, that's it. Because I'm a woman and I'm smart, you think I must be cheating?"
    "No, because I've seen your sad attempt at typing, I know you must be cheating."
    She tsk ed, then pulled her knees up to her chest and shook her head. "How little you know, sir. How little you know."
    "Apparently. This place looks like you've got some kind of secret life. You've been to Tokyo? Beijing? And then Germany"
    "Or I'm really good at Photoshop. And etiquette. Isn't that more likely since I'm such a big cheater?"
    "Either that or you're with MI6 and you've got a license to kill."
    "Oh, you'd be in big trouble then, wouldn't you?" She laughed and this time he joined her.
    It was too hard not to. When she laughed, it was like Natalie was a whole new person. Not better or worse, but different. The lines around her face would smooth and the little trill of joy sounded softer than the hard edge that was always behind her voice when she spoke.
    He wanted to move closer to her, to make her laugh again and again. He scooted slightly, but not so much that she might notice, then asked, "You'd kill me if you had a license to kill?"
    "Oh no. Besides, you're the one living the double oh seven life. All those Bond girls and the fancy car."
    "So you admit it. You think my car is fancy."
    She held up her hands in mock surrender. "You've got me. I guess you win. Now does that mean you're going to tell me why you're here?"
    He hesitated. It was always so hard to know the right answer with Natalie, and if he did know what she wanted to hear, that didn't mean it was the right answer either. So, he opted for the truth.
    "I'm sick of you hiding from me."
    "Hiding?"
    "Yeah, you don't look at me when I talk to you. You make excuses not to see me. The only reason you went to the hotel without prompting was to save your friend, and even then you bolted when that was off the table."
    "Seems like a pretty clear message to me."
    "It might be if you didn't always look at me like you want me to rip your clothes off."
    "I think you're confusing the two of us again." Her speech was as feisty as ever, but there was a hesitation behind her voice that he knew she couldn't hide.
    "Oh no, see, the difference is, you look at me like that. I have no problem simply telling it to your face. Natalie, I want to rip your clothes off."
    Her jaw ticked, and the tip of her tongue peeked out to swipe across her upper lip. With every passing second, his heart beat faster, wondering if now