Nearly forty-five minutes later, I found myself looking at the clock in the living room and wondering if time had somehow stopped.
“Okaaay,” Sean drawled as he flipped several pages of his notepad back in place and tapped his pen on the top page. “I’m pretty sure we have a name here for each letter of the alphabet. So if you could let me know what the next name starts with, I’ll try to keep them in some kind of order.”
“You’re having a really great time with this, aren’t you?”
“By this, do you mean writing down your many, many fuck buddies? Because no. I’m actually getting a hand cramp.”
It was right in that moment that I wondered if killing Sean would be worth the life sentence I would get. Maybe the judge would be lenient if I relayed what a gigantic pain in the ass he was.
“I hate you.”
“That’s so sweet,” Sean said, tossing the pad on the couch beside him. “And I’m touched that I’m the one man in Chicago that you don’t want to—”
“Finish that sentence and I’m going to kick you in the balls.”
Sean snorted. “I mean, they’re pretty big and all, but I doubt even you could reach them from over there.”
Choosing to ignore his dumb ass, I looked out the window. “I told you there was a lot.”
“You didn’t tell me there was enough to fill Madison Square Garden.”
I cut my eyes to him lounging back in his seat with his legs kicked out, his arm resting along the back of the couch. “And I suppose you’re a monk?”
“Hey, I can still count mine on both hands. Twice over, maybe, but at least I can. Can’t say the same for you, Mr. Playerrr…” Sean smirked. “Gotta say, I didn’t know you had it in you.”
One of the reasons I tried to avoid being around Sean on my own was that way I had some hope of reining in my impulse to say something I would regret—case in point, “Who said ‘in me’ is the way I like it?”
Sean’s forehead creased as though he were thinking that over.
“Ugh, forget it,” I said, getting to my feet. “Are we done with this portion of the interrogation?”
“Yeah, I guess. But you might as well sit back down. We’re not done with the rest of it.”
“The rest of it? What else could you possibly need to know?”
“Let’s see…” Sean picked up the pad. “What these guys look like. What kind of clothes they wear. How do they act when they’re with you?”
“That’s easy enough,” I said, and planted my hands on my hips. “They look nothing like you, wear the complete opposite of anything you have in your wardrobe, and they act like they have a brain in their head.”
Sean looked me over and then stood, and something in the way he was inspecting me made me back up a step.
“So, basically, you like to date yourself.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, the opposite of me would be you. No wonder you and Bailey didn’t work. You were too busy searching for yourself.”
Beyond irritated now, I glared at Sean’s smug face. Jesus, he was being an ass this morning, and the more he pushed, the more worked up I got. Like that last comment. I knew he didn’t mean it the way I took it, but he was a little too close to the truth.
Searching for myself? That was a pretty accurate description of how I’d felt during my relationship with Bailey, and about halfway into it, I’d realized I wasn’t going to find any answers with my best friend. It had been too comfortable, too familiar, and I already knew that version of myself. It was all the other parts, the hunger, the darker urges, the unexplainable restlessness within me that I didn’t understand—and still didn’t.
“Bailey is nothing like you,” I said, more annoyed than I could remember being in a long time. “He has more compassion and feeling in his little finger than you have in your entire body. Maybe if you had more, people wouldn’t actively avoid you.”
As my words echoed off the twelve-foot ceiling, Sean’s spine seemed to stiffen, and I took perverse satisfaction in knowing I’d finally landed a blow.
“Trust me,” he said in a quiet voice I’d never heard before. “You’re not the first to point it out. Our father drilled that into my head every day of my life.”
Sean took a step away from me, and my gut twisted with guilt. “Sean—”
“We’re done here.” Sean’s tone was as cold as an arctic blast. It froze me in place. “Let me know when you’re ready to go to work.”
I opened my mouth—to say what I had no clue—but it didn’t matter anyway. Sean was already walking out of the room, which was probably for the best. Any longer in each other’s company, and the likelihood we’d come out alive on the other side was slim to none.
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, I was climbing inside Sean’s SUV, and the tense silence between us was the same as it had been earlier.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. I’d just spent the morning having one of the most uncomfortable conversations of my life, only to wind up in a verbal sparring match that had ended with the two of us nearly killing each other.
I chanced a quick look in Sean’s direction as he pulled out of the parking garage. This was not good. Sean had always been the king of inane conversation, so as he sat in broody silence, I found myself growing uneasier and uneasier. Because how in the world were we going to pull off this ridiculous charade if he wouldn’t even talk to me?
“Do you know where the building is?” I asked, trying to get us back to some kind of normalcy.
“Yep, I Googled it.”
“Okay.” We sat there for a few more seconds, and when the silence started to border on uncomfortable, I said, “When we get there, I’ll take you up to meet Marcus—”
“Marcus?”
“Marcus St. James. He’s the president of the news division at ENN. My boss.”
Sean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “And just how close are you and your boss?”
I frowned.
“Just making sure he shouldn’t be on your list.”
“Marcus? Definitely not. He’s just my boss.”
Sean gave me the side eye, and I could tell he didn’t believe me.
“What?”
“Are you lying?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Why would I lie?”
“I don’t know. ’Cause he’s your boss.”
“So?”
“That would be a sticky situation.”
“I highly doubt it,” I said, and when Sean just stared at me, clearly not understanding my joke, I sighed. “Trust me, he’s the last person I’d ever date.”
“Just making sure I’ve covered all my bases.”
I rolled my eyes, wondering how I was going to get through the next eight hours, and muttered, “Yes. God forbid I have any dignity left by the end of this.”
The rest of the trip we made in silence, and that seemed much more preferable than another verbal go-around with Sean Bailey.
10
Sean