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Natasha nodded, making a note on her calendar. "That works. I'll call her this afternoon, then. And...yes, if you would, please let me know as soon as you decide." She ducked her head in acquiescence of his compliment. "Thank you, James. I really appreciate that."

Then he mentioned Alex, and she wanted to groan. But presence was everything, so.

"Oh, please don't apologize about that. It was uncouth of him to even ask, and I promise you, he doesn't really expect anything to come of it. Alex is...well, Alex." She tried to smile through the words. "Most pilots are by nature that brash. It tends to make them very good at their job."

"I just don't like...I don't know. I'm not going to badmouth your partner," Bucky says, spreading his hands out a little. He wishes he didn't have tattooed knuckles because maybe then he'd be someone Natasha was interested in - Alex certainly hadn't had visible tattoos.

"Sort of made me feel stupid, I guess. Maybe that's just my big rock star ego, though, and I need a kick in the ass and a slice of humble pie. Still. Maybe he didn't mean for it to come off as insulting but I felt a little slighted. You know how it is? When you're proud of something and someone cuts it down?"

Natasha sighed, glancing down at her desk and absently picking up a pen, just to have something for her fingers to hold. "He didn't mean it," she tried to apologize for her jackass boyfriend. "I assure you he didn't. Alex just...plows his way through things. Life, included." She tried a tentative smile.

"But don't worry, I don't think he'll 'have time' to attend another get-together. It's the usual story. Once something becomes mundane, or he's done it more than twice, he loses interest and goes on to find the next thrilling thing."

"Well, I won't uninvite him," Bucky says diplomatically. "Because it might mean uninviting you and you're certainly invited to any gathering I have with the guys or my family. Just you wait - you're gonna get a baby shower invitation if you're not careful. The Barnes' don't play about hospitality."

He gives her a soft smile, a true one, and tries to ease things over a little. Natasha shouldn't have to suffer because Alex insulted him. It's hardly her fault.

"I like you. I'm pretty open and friendly with the people who work with me and for me but you're more like Sam, to me. You're someone I want to know better and work with more."

Yes, this was going to be dangerous, any further fraternizing with this man. And despite all of her good sense, Natasha was honest enough with herself to admit that she liked him. This Bucky Barnes wasn't just a metalhead with no common sense or boasted that superior attitude that so grated her with most of her other clients. Quite the opposite.

And it was dangerous, being exposed to more of it.

She needed to stop, and she needed to stop now. Before things got any worse. She better than anyone else in the room knew how things looked, despite the actual intent.

"I...appreciate that, Mr. Barnes." Deliberate, this time. But she couldn't help responding to that lovely smile, damnit. "That's very kind of you to say." Work, focus on work. "So. I'll call this afternoon and get that event set up, and you'll let me know if anything else springs to mind, yes?"

Reiteration never hurt. Natasha prayed he'd forget she'd agreed to his offer about lunch; she didn't need to play with any more fire than she already had.

"Absolutely. I appreciate everything you've done for me and anything you think about doing in the future. I've got to send you flowers or something - girls like flowers, don't they?"

Bucky's teasing and he knows he's edging toward flirting. Knows that he's edging toward trying to steal another man's girl. He personally thinks that man is an idiot but it's not his place to do this.

"I'll look up an appropriate and professional gift, don't worry."

If she indulged him just a little, would that be unfair? Natasha knew the surest way to protect herself, and that was to stop him cold. She wasn't available, after all. But, who said Barnes was even thinking along that route? How could she be sure that he was simply a nice guy under all of that ink, a nice guy who actually gave a damn about people he worked with?

Things weren't supposed to be this confusing, damnit.

"Flowers are fine," Natasha suddenly heard herself say, and wanted to kick herself. Again. "But really, you don't have to send any gifts, Mr. Barnes. It's sweet, but not necessary."

"Well, gifts are never necessary but I send them anyway. It's just what you do," Bucky says. "If they were necessary, they wouldn't be gifts. They would be requirements and part of any civil exchange."

Maybe that's a little...he's got to stop this. It needs to stop. There's nothing he needs more than to forget about any romantic involvement with this woman and stop testing the waters.

"I'm buying lunch, by the way. Part of your gift."

Oh, great. So much for him forgetting. Natasha was at first inclined to protest, then try and back out altogether, but she stopped herself before she crammed her foot right into her mouth. She had been the one to instigate lunch; she'd be horrid if she tried to get out of it. And with no feasible reason, at that.

"...well, if you insist."

After coordinating with her secretary, Natasha collected her purse and left her office with her client, but paused once outside. "Um...shall I meet you there? I take it from the helmet that you came on your motorcycle, and...I'm not really dressed for that, Mr. Barnes." Not in her heels, trim skirt, and pale green blouse.

"Yeah, you probably don't want me to take you out on the bike dressed like that. I'll mess you all up and you don't want to look like that the rest of the day. See you soon."

The restaurant he likes for low key get togethers lets him come in the backdoor and park his bike out there so no one bothers him. He tells them that Natasha is coming to meet him and goes to his table, drumming his fingers idly while he waits on her to show up.

After getting directions, Natasha followed Barnes across town, pulling her sedan into the small parking lot of a rather non-descript hole-in-the-wall cafe that didn't really look like much from the outside. Nevertheless, she stepped in, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the indoor lighting, and was immediately taken to a table in the back, where her client waited, already seated.

"Goodness," she remarked, taking her own seat, "how often do you eat here? I'm getting the sense that you're more than just a run-of-the-mill VIP, James." All right, she couldn't help the slight curve of her lips or the crinkle of her eyes with the gentle tease. Sue her.

"This is where I take people I like so we don't get bothered," Bucky says. He likes it when she calls him James. Other than his mom, no one does, and Natasha is definitely not his mother. Far from it. He grins a little and pushes a menu toward her.

"I always get the same thing so you take a look at that menu and decide. It's on me, I don't care what you get. Order the whole thing if you want and I'll make a valiant effort to help you eat your way through that massive order."

That actually made her laugh, a low sultry sound that she hadn't heard herself make in...years. But she just couldn't help it. The man was so silly sometimes, it was more than enough to pique her humor. After perusing the menu for a few minutes, Natasha finally decided on a salad, the one loaded with grilled chicken, pecans, cranberries, and other goodies, and propped her elbows on the table, chin on her hands, and gazed speculatively at her client across the table.

"And what are you having? If you tell me a ham sandwich, James Barnes, I think I might swat you with this menu." Again, Natasha heard the words leaving her mouth, but it was only after they'd been said that her good sense kicked in and she wanted to immediately make her excuses and disappear. Damn the man, for...for...for being decent!

And sincere, her backbrain slyly pointed out, and sweet, and kind, and utterly gorgeous, let's not forget... Natasha resolutely bit the inside of her cheek, mentally hauling herself back into her chair and out of the gutter.

"It's a club sandwich, actually, and it has turkey and swiss and bacon in addition to that ham," Bucky says, grinning at her. "So there, you were wrong. I won the bet so you have to buy me a drink. You can't do it right now, I'm not drinking today, I'm trying to keep that off the radar right now, but I'll call in that drink in the future."

God, he has got to stop flirting with her. She's taken and she sort of works for him. With him? It's just not wise even if she is gorgeous and smart and has the kind of voice that makes him want to do things.

"So, other than me, how has work been?"

To her absolute horror, Natasha realized she was reaching across the table before she could stop her arm from moving, and she gave Bucky Barnes a small thump on the back of one tattooed hand. "I was half-right," she told him, undeniably cheeky. "So there."

Reining in that involuntary desire to flirt with this man, Natasha sat back in her chair, grasping hold of a safer topic. "I agree, you definitely need to curtail your relationship with alcohol, Bucky Barnes." And bit her tongue. Again. Natasha! she screamed at herself. Stop this madness!

But then he asked about work, and she sighed internal relief. "Oh, not too bad. Thankfully, I'm only working with two other clients, besides yourself." She couldn't discuss details, of course. "I try to keep no more than three at the time. Not enough hours in the day for any more than that."

God, it seems like she's flirting back with him and Bucky just can't fucking help himself. He's really into it and he wants to keep flirting with her, work her up and ask her on a date and not just to Gino's through the back alley so the photographers can't see her. Goddamn it.

"Oh, so I'm taking up someone's spot in your schedule, huh? Better kick me out so you can get someone real hopeless in."

He ducks his head a little and smiles. "But I'll try to keep away from the bottle just for you."

Thankfully, she was able to bite back any innuendos before they escaped this time, and Natasha chuckled softly, ducking her head a little. "I saw both of them on Friday," she assured him. "And their next appointments aren't until tomorrow." She almost said something along the lines of, I kept today clear just for you, but managed to swallow that before it could roll off of her tongue.

Rescue arrived with their order, and Natasha busied herself with her salad, resolutely keeping her eyes off of her handsome companion, focusing on the delicious chicken and vegetables on her plate. The food was good, the service complimentary, and with her mouth full, she couldn't wade any further into those dangerous, dangerous waters.

Bucky, too, can't keep from flirting with her so he decides that stuffing his mouth full of food is a good idea. He tries to be polite about it, at least, and when he finishes half his sandwich and is on to fries he thinks he can manage to speak without getting himself in trouble.

"Oh, well, if they're not seeing you until tomorrow then we've got plenty of time to eat at least. I'd hate to be keeping you from something important. I'm not touring right now so I have more downtime than I'm used to."

"Mmm," she agreed, swallowing her bite. "Mr. Wilson said that you and the band were starting work on the music videos for your latest album releases. That's pretty exciting, isn't it?" And Natasha had to admit, the camera absolutely loved Bucky Barnes. When she'd first agreed to take him as her client, she'd done her research, which included listening to some of his music and watching the videos for those released songs.

And honestly, she'd been thankful she'd been alone during that little interlude, because, grown woman that she was, even her cheeks had flamed at some of the choreography in those videos. She could absolutely see why Barnes' fanbase was so popular; the man cut across the screen like a primal god of sex and rock-n-roll. That dark hair, always tousled, those bright blue eyes, and that sculpted body no doubt garnered all of the attention wherever he went.

That he hadn't been mobbed here was even a miracle.

"I've never been on the set of anything, myself," she remarked. "I can only imagine the hustle and bustle, the noise, and everyone so busy it's almost ridiculous."

Well, he tries to keep it to jeans and t-shirts when he's just out and about and leaves the leather pants for the stage and for the set. It's not exactly comfortable wearing those things all day. Still, Bucky knows he looks good and he isn't going to be shy or self-deprecating about that.

"Yeah, we're working on videos for the new singles. It's annoying, filming, but the visual medium really hits home for some of the demos so you have to give the people what they want. Apparently my fans are female. I figured with metal I'd have more male fans but...can't account for demographics, huh?"

"Oh, judging from Twitter, I'd say you have a healthy male following, too." Natasha chuckled and shook her head; reading some of those Tweets had been...amusing, at the very least. "They're very, um, active, when it comes to defending you. They're loyal, at least." In all actuality, it had mostly been the press who'd taken issue with the altercation at Angel's Share.

"Your fans are also very protective of Mr. Rogers, too, I was impressed to notice. You two must really be very close. Yet he keeps a very low profile, somehow." She filtered through her salad, mentally congratulating herself for making safe and polite small talk.

"Do you have any interest in any other genre or music? Or is it only the harder stuff that appeals?"

"Look, Steve's pretty good at staying invisible. It's kind of a talent of his, actually. As far as music goes - yeah, I'd love to put out a stripped down acoustic album with love songs on it but it's not gonna sell. I'm not gonna sell that looking like this."

Bucky gestures to himself, the tattoos and the biker boots and everything in between. He's developed an image and it's not the kind of image people associate with something besides metal.

"No one is gonna want that kind of album from me."

One eyebrow went up. "How do you know? How can you know unless you try? You said yourself most of your fanbase is female, and trust me, any female would spend the money to listen to just you singing with your guitar."

She bit the rest off, because adding, Well, excluding me, would not only be impolitic, but a total and complete lie. Rather than continue down that dead-end road, Natasha said instead, "You're successful enough to afford one flopped album, James."

Another bite of salad, then she added, "And if it sells, then so much the better. At least you'd be doing something you want to do, right?"

Bucky draws absent little circles on the table with his fingertip while he thinks about it. It's something he'd like to do, something softer, but he doesn't want to fail. It's not so much about the money as it is about being liked but he doesn't know how to explain that to Natasha other than to come out and say it and that makes him sound like a little boy.

"I don't want to fail, is the thing. And it's not about the money. It's about me. It's about doing well. I don't want to fail at anything."

It's a heavy thing to admit, though, and he keeps his eyes down as he says it.

Natasha heard the change in his voice, saw the small circles drawn on the tabletop. She didn't respond right away, and when she did, her own voice was softer, encouraging.

"Hey." And a smile, just for him. "You have a wonderful talent, James. And an amazing voice. Anything at all that you sing would go platinum, I have no doubt whatsoever." She chuckled, impulsively reaching across the table to give his hand a brief, light squeeze.

"Believe in yourself, James. I do."

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