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Brett smiled. “Don’t go anywhere.”
He bounded off. Cary and I walked over to the tent bearing the Vidal Records logo. Protected from the crowds by private security, it was a tiny oasis in the madness of Times Square.
“Well, baby girl, you’ve got your hands full with him. I forgot how it was with you two.”
“Was being the operative word,” I pointed out.
“He’s different from before,” he went on. “More… settled.”
“That’s great for him. Especially with all that’s going on in his life right now.”
He scoped me out. “Aren’t you even the slightest bit interested in seeing if he can still bang you brainless?”
I shot him a look. “Chemistry is chemistry. And I’m sure he’s had plenty of chances to bone up on his already fabulous skills.”
“Bone up, ha! That’s punny.” He waggled his brows at me. “You seem solid.”
“Ah, now that would be an illusion.”
“Well, look who’s here,” he murmured, turning my attention to Gideon, who was approaching with Ireland at his side. “And heading straight toward us. If there’s a brawl over you, I’m watching from the bleachers.”
I shoved at him. “Thanks.”