Best Man for Hire (Entangled Lovestruck) (Front and Center) by Tawna Fenske Read Free Book Online Page A

color of my underwear?”
    The corner of his mouth quirked. “Fill in that last detail and I’ll confess.”
    “Blue. To match the dress.”
    “And the streak in your hair.” He took a long drink of water, then set the glass down and met her eyes. “Fair enough. What do you want to know?”
    “What was that all about? Why did I just tell you my whole life story before I even knew your full name?”
    “Grant Ulysses Patton. Our parents named us all after military generals. MacArthur, Grant, Sheridan, Schwartz—short for Schwarzkopf, as in Stormin’ Norman.”
    “Your family isn’t messing around with this military stuff.”
    “No doubt. Which might have something to do with my use of elicitation techniques in inappropriate settings like dates and job interviews. I apologize.”
    She blinked at him. “You used military-counterintelligence skills to get into my pants?”
    “Are we still speaking metaphorically?”
    “Yes. Why did you interrogate me?”
    “It would only be an interrogation if I’d detained you, and I’d be using coercion tactics instead of evoking trust and comfort. Technically, this was more elicitation—a skill by which you acquire information without the subject realizing you’re doing it.”
    Anna tried not to grin. “The subject ? And here I’ve been dating guys who called me honey and baby .”
    “I didn’t call you pet names, but I did ply you with a steady flow of refreshments. I also touched your arm and expressed sympathy for your misfortunes. That was genuine, by the way.”
    She shook her head and took another bite of steak. “That is seriously the most fucked-up form of foreplay I’ve ever heard of.”
    He studied her like he was trying to figure out if she was angry, amused, or crazy. It was certainly more of the last two, but she might as well keep him wondering. She picked up her butter knife and sliced into her potato. She felt his gaze on her as she loaded it up with sour cream and butter, along with a sprinkle of the fresh chives he’d grabbed from the potted plant beside the railing. Fresh chives? Christ, who was this guy?
    “Even before the Marines trained me in counterintelligence, I had a knack for getting people to open up,” he said. “It’s always been like that. Even when I was a kid, random people just wanted to tell me things, confess secrets they didn’t tell other people.”
    “I see,” she said, taking a bite of potato. “So your career choices were either spy catcher or priest, and you were too big to fit in the confessional booth?”
    He gave her a smile that looked almost guilty. “Pretty much.”
    “You’re good, I’ll give you that.” She took another bite of potato, surprised by how fast she was devouring her dinner. Good Lord, this man was an amazing cook. An amazing everything , really. It was infuriating. And perplexing. And maybe a bit suspicious.
    But it was mostly just sexy.
    “So teach me something.”
    “What?”
    “A technique. A way of making a bad guy reveal something he doesn’t want to tell you. That’s what you said counterintelligence means, right?”
    “More or less.” He considered her for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, fine. Tell me a story that’s a lie.”
    “What?”
    “A story, but I want it to be a lie. Like maybe give me a detailed account what you did today, but lie about it.”
    “Okay.” She thought about it. “Well, I started off my morning by getting a pedicure from Hugh Jackman. Then I went out and bought a new Mercedes and drove to Hanalei Bay where I made love in the surf with George Clooney before meeting up with Daniel Craig for lunch. After that I went for a ride on the back of Bradley Cooper’s Harley to teach a hula class to a bunch of school children, and then I watched the sunset from my private hot tub with Brad Pitt.”
    “You have a very good imagination.”
    “That’s why I’m a weird wedding planner and not a priest or a spy catcher.”
    He took a sip of wine, his eyes never