He sighed. “Then I’ll give her a call. Thank you for your time.”

Aria was dozing off in the back corner of a workshop about public transportation when her phone rang, jolting her back to consciousness. Leaping at the chance to escape the workshop, which was going nowhere fast, she excused herself and accepted the call.

“Hey, there,” she greeted cheerfully.

“Aria, this is Eli.”

His smooth voice sent a ripple of desire down her spine, and she flashed back to their kiss last night. Her body temperature ratcheted up a couple of degrees.

“Hi, Eli,” she greeted him, doing her best to sound nonchalant despite her racing heart. Was he calling about last night? Did he want to talk about it? Apologize? Ask for more? She wasn’t sure which option she’d prefer. “Can I help you?”

“Davy the bartender tells me you’re a ‘bloody good cook’. His words, not mine.”

She laughed. Typical of Davy to talk her up to an unattached man. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” she replied, tucking a curl behind her ear as she pressed the phone closer to prevent anyone around her overhearing. “I’m a passable cook.”

“Are you free tonight?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” she teased. Sensing his awkwardness, she said, “I’m sorry. I was joking.”

“I need a caterer.”

Oh. Not quite a date, then. Couldn’t blame a girl for dreaming. “What for?”

He paused. Sighed. What was bugging him? “My parents are coming to dinner.”

Aria laughed out loud. “And you need a caterer for that? Seriously, roast some potatoes and a chicken, and they’ll be happy.”

“I wish it were that simple.”

Aria shook her head. He made it sound like he belonged to the Addams Family. Even if they weren’t like her family, they couldn’t be that bad. Was this a ruse to see her again? She hoped so; otherwise, he seriously needed to relax.

“It’s always that simple with family,” she advised. “Make a little effort, and they’ll appreciate it.”

“Not my parents,” he said shortly. “I didn’t call to get your opinion. I need a caterer. Will you do it?”

His tone was snappy, and she couldn’t help feeling hurt. “Well, I could have been, but now I’m not so sure.”

“I’ll pay you.”

She groaned and raked a hand down her face. “Not everything is about money, Eli.”

“Then name your price.”

She hesitated, seeing the opportunity that had dropped into her lap. “Information,” she replied, in control once more. “I need a killer article. Something big. Exclusive, but not scandalous. Can you help me with that?”

For twenty seconds, she thought he’d tell her to go to hell. Wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“What kind of story?”

He was listening to her, at least. “Anything that will sell papers.”

“You don’t care about the content?”