Relationship had not been the word he’d meant to use.
He also hadn’t meant to infer that he expected—or wanted—her to give anything back. He didn’t need to know Ava Sims.
Didn’t need to know what made her tick.
Other than her career ambition, but he suspected even that came from a deeper, dark place. Probably having to do with her messed-up family.
But beyond that?
He didn’t know Ava Sims at all.
And it bothered him more than he liked to admit.
Ava slung her purse over her shoulder. “Okay then.”
Luc gave her a wary look. “Okay what?”
“I’m buying you dinner.”
Luc shook his head as he followed her out. “Not exactly what I meant.”
Ava spun around and put a hand against his chest to stop him. “Maybe I wasn’t clear. I’m taking you to dinner…and you get to ask whatever questions you want. About me. My company is asking you to be an open book, with essentially no choice in the matter. I can’t give you that choice back. But I can, at least, make this a two-way street.”
Luc studied her. It was an unexpected move. Every vibe he’d gotten from Ava so far was that she was fiercely private. Sure, she could have a conversation with anyone, flirt with anyone, wrap anyone around her finger, and yet he’d have sworn that the real Ava was on lockdown.
And here she was practically volunteering transparency? There had to be a catch.
But he could handle the catch.
Luc shrugged. “You’re on.”
Ava blinked. “Really? You’ll have dinner with me?”
He maneuvered them so that his hand was on the small of her back as he ushered her toward the door. “Sure. Hey, does your cell have a camera built in?”
“Um, sure?”
“Good.” He ushered her out into the night air. “Get it ready in case I just happen to catch any babies falling from burning buildings, or throw myself in front of an elderly person to protect them from a runaway cab. Gotta document that shit.”
“Crap,” Ava said, skidding to a halt. “We forgot your cape. I was up all night sewing sequins onto it.”
“There goes your whole story,” Luc said with a shake of his head. “I don’t suppose this means we can call the whole thing off?”
“No, although now you know why Clark Kent had multiple Superman outfits on hand,” she said, linking her arm in his and pulling him toward the curb to hail a cab.
“I hardly think he called them outfits,” Luc said as he followed her into the taxi.
“West Village?” he asked skeptically after hearing the address she gave the cabbie. “That’s your neighborhood?”
“Nah, I don’t make enough to live there. Yet,” she added with the sort of firmness that told him she fully expected to make enough someday to live in one of Manhattan’s trendier neighborhoods.
“So where do you live?”
“A tiny box in the Financial District,” she said. “When I first moved to the city, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, and the broker assured me it was the best I could do while still living in Manhattan, which at the time, I was hell-bent on. You’re in Upper West, yeah?”
He turned to see her watching him in the shadows. “Dying to know how I can afford it, huh?”
“Nope, your grandma filled me in. Roomies! That must be fun.”
Luc grunted. “This morning I woke up to her shouting at the window washers across the street asking them to, and I quote, ‘shake it.’”
She laughed softly. “You love her.”
“I love my whole family.”
Ava’s smile faded a little. “As you should. They’re great.”
The restaurant Ava picked was tiny, trendy, and crowded, even on a Wednesday night, and definitely not a typical NYPD hangout.
“Don’t worry,” she said, catching his expression as they claimed a spot at the bar to wait for a table. “I’ve got this handy thing called a corporate credit card and a hefty spending limit. So what can CBC get you from the bar?”