“That’s good. That’s very good, Mr Stark. What would coax you to spill some of those secrets?” she asked. Something in her voice seemed to whisper, Go on, you can trust me, I’m safe, share your secrets.
“I can tell you one thing; it’d be a lot more than batting your eyelashes.”
“Besides, pretty sure spilling those secrets would aid those people who are supposedly trying to kill me. You know, the ones I may or may not need a bodyguard to protect me from.”
“Shouldn’t a bodyguard know those secrets, so they know when you’re most in need of protection?” she countered. Batting her eyelashes! Inwardly, she rolled her eyes. “Though you have a point about the current public nature of the discussion. If you’re interviewing me for a position, might be better to move to a more, hmmm,” she sought a non-threatening word, “secluded space?”
Damn, he was tough. She wasn’t even entirely sure why she was pursuing this conversation, except that hint of ‘broken’ that she sensed. And there was just something about him that — compelled, far beyond the simple fact that he was Tony Stark, with all that implied.
Flirting with this man would be courting a broken heart, she suspected. Though it might yet be worth it.