“And we have to place the same kind of trust in them to see us for what we really are,” Noah continues. “You never know . . . if we really want to transform Tate & Cane, honesty might turn out to be our greatest strength. A smart client would appreciate our frugality and efficiency.” He winks at me. “And don’t worry, I’ll still show them a great time, budget or no budget. They won’t miss the Caribbean one bit when I’m through with them.”

“Okay, sure. I’ll leave it to the master party animal.” Sipping my drink, I wave my hand. “Looks like we have a consensus. Motion passed. Now it’s your turn.”

He says, “I’ve been debating whether to pitch our new service style to Acentix Telecom. They’re kind of old-fashioned . . .” One of the few regulars that Dad and Bill managed to hang on to over the years, in fact. “And they’ve always been happy with our work in the past.”

“So you’re wondering, should we even bother trying to update them?” I clarify.

“Right. I figured you’d say, ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’” He turns his palms up. “But I thought I’d ask anyway.”

I stare into my glass as I weigh our options. Noah knows me well; my first instinct is to avoid spending resources on non-vital work. Pulling together a pitch meeting won’t take a huge amount of effort, but it’s not very likely to yield much of a return either.

For some reason, though, I’m feeling bold. Something inside me whispers why not? And that voice sounds a lot like Noah.

The man himself sips his drink and watches me, keeping quiet, giving me all the time I need to think.

Finally, I reply, “I think we might as well try. At worst, Acentix says ‘no, thanks’—which is always a risk when pitching anyway—and we continue the services we’ve been providing them all along. So why not? The whole reason Dad made us co-CEOs is so we could shepherd this company into the digital era, right? We shouldn’t be shy about trying new things.”

Noah smiles, locking eyes with me. “Experimenting with new things has sure worked out pretty well for us.”

The meaningful glance we share is broken by a ding from Noah’s phone. He checks it, his smile fading away with every second his dark eyes scan back and forth across the screen.

“What is it?” I ask.

Please no shitstorms for at least another half hour. I know it’s a bit selfish of me, since this lunch is for business and not pleasure anyway, but I’m irritated that my one-on-one time with Noah is being interrupted.

“Just an e-mail from our Parrish Footwear project leader,” he grumbles. “Don’t worry, it’s not an emergency. Apparently Estelle has been making noises about how long we’re taking to finish their first round of deliverables.” Noah gives a wry twist of his full lips. “Even though she was fine with our proposed deadline when she signed the contract.”

“We’re not liable for late work if it’s not actually late. So, legally, our ass is covered. But . . .” I chew my lip thoughtfully. “We should probably still try to smooth her feathers. This relationship could make us a lot of money in the long run.” And if working with Noah has taught me anything, it’s that there’s more to maintaining good vibes than just what’s on paper. “You should pay Estelle a visit. Invite her to a business lunch, bump into her at a party, something casual like that. Just smooth things over and reassure her about our progress.”

Noah blinks, surprised. “You’d really be okay with that?”

“She likes you. We might as well put that rapport to good use.” Not too long ago, I would have dismissed this kind of elbow-rubbing as a waste of time. But it’s hard to argue with the effectiveness of Noah’s charismatic approach.

He cocks his head and I realize what he’s really asking.

“Besides, I know nothing would ever happen between you two,” I say, smiling warmly at him. A flash of something daring prompts me to add, “She can look all she wants, but only I get to touch.”

Noah gives a low, pleased noise that’s half chuckle and half murmur. “Damn right. By the way, Snowflake, I like this side of you. Any chance of that touching happening anytime soon?”

I return his smoldering stare. “If you play your cards right.”

He stretches in his chair with a stifled groan, offering me a tantalizing hint of the taut body under his suit, then leans back with arms crossed over his broad chest. His smirk tells me that he knows exactly what he was doing. “Well, that’s the last item on my agenda. You have anything else?”

Sipping my drink, I shake my head. “Not really anything pressing. Camryn asked me the other day about how we should bill content marketing. But I just offered my opinion and let her make the final decision.”

Noah’s eyebrows quirk. “You, delegating?”

“Her team got the in-depth social media training, not me,” I reply with a casual shrug. “And she’s handling everything great so far.”

But I know why he’s surprised. I’ve finally managed to chill out and hand over the reins—at least, where my loyal, responsible BFF is concerned. Other than giving feedback on her weekly reports, I’m making an effort not to butt in.

“That was easy. All our issues discussed and our food hasn’t even arrived yet.” Noah grins at me. “Looks like our business lunch will be just a regular lunch.”