Stay With Me (7 page)

I was sorry I’d snapped at him. God, he understood being gay better than Trevor ever did.

“I understand him.” I shrugged helplessly. “I understood him, anyway. It was hard to come out to my parents. My dad, anyway. My mom passed without ever knowing. I don’t think he ever felt the same about me.” God, why did just saying that make me feel a little choked up? “You don’t want someone you love to go through that.”

My phone buzzed on his desk, and he finally asked, “Are you going to get that?”

“Not really.”

He looked at the screen and then laughed aloud. “Well, according to this log, someone named Asswipe called four times.”

I grinned cheekily, glad for the distraction. “I changed a few things around in my address book.” His amusement gave me the courage to answer the next time it buzzed.

“What?” I answered, as Jordan busied himself on his computer.

“What kind of game are you playing?” Trevor sounded a little pissed. “You said you’d give me five minutes, and then you run off with Channing. What could you possibly have to speak about with him?”

“Business, Mr. Smith, nothing for you to worry about.”

“The firm has its own PI agency on retainer,” he snapped. “What business could you possibly have with Channing?”

“Business,” I repeated. “Did I stutter?”

“What kind of business? Business with his dick and your ass?”

My face went red-hot. For God’s sakes, I wasn’t some sort of office ho, hopping from associate to associate, I ranted silently, forgetting that I had just had convenient buddy sex with Asher. Okay, fine. But that
still
didn’t make me an office ho. Asher was clearly not an associate of the firm.

I wouldn’t expect Trevor to understand the difference. I settled for, “I don’t have to explain anything to you.”
So there.

He was silent for a moment before continuing. “You know he has a girlfriend, right? Fiancée, actually.”

“Get bent, Trevor.”

“Real mature.” His voice went lower. “I’m only looking out for you.”

I snorted. “Great job so far.” I hoped my tone was sarcastic. Hoped I managed to minimize the hurt. His murmur said I didn’t succeed.

“You looked good.”

“Oh for heaven’s sakes—”

“Come and talk to me. You know where my office is.”

I knew that tone. Knew what it meant. After two years of wheedling, I knew exactly what that tone led to.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I hissed. “Does Laura know about this?” Jordan had stopped pretending to work and was looking at me with his brow furrowed, fingers steepled.

“Know about what, exactly?” Trevor’s tone went cold. Hard. And I suddenly knew what it was like to see him across the courtroom. It was what made him such a great lawyer. Such a great liar.

“Should I be more specific?”

“Do it and it’s going to take more than Channing’s secretary to stop me from coming in there.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Stop being such a brat.”

“You wanted to talk? Let’s talk. About the
one
thing that I care to talk to you about. I want Finn back,” I snapped. “He’s my dog.”

“Dream on,” he shot back. “I’d rather give him back to the pound.”

“God, you’re such a fucking—”

“Call me when you grow up, Mackenzie. You know where to find me. And tell that fucker Jordan where to find me after he’s done playing Sir Lancelot. I can give him some tips on how you like to be—”

I hit the end button so hard I’m surprised I didn’t crack the screen, then growled. It wasn’t enough. Man, I missed the days of slamming home an actual receiver. I glared at the window, my fist threatening to clench the phone into dust.

Jordan tsked, looking at the thundercloud of my face. “Don’t do it. This glass is so thick you’d only wind up needing a new phone.”

“I can’t believe I ever loved that moron.” I began to pace, treading a path through Jordan’s thick carpet. “He’s being completely unreasonable and won’t give me back my dog.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I know
exactly
what I’m going to do,” I said, my face a mask of determination.

Jordan sat back in his chair. “Wow, I can practically smell the lock-picking equipment.”

I made a face. “You heard him,” I said, forgetting the fact that he, in fact, did not. “He’s going to give him back to the pound.”

“He’s just being a dick,” Jordan said, shaking his head. “He won’t do that. Give him some time to cool down. We did, after all, just slam the door in his face.”

“I don’t have time for that idiot to cool down. He’s determined to make sure I don’t get my dog back. I may be a PI, but if he wants to hide Finn good enough, even
I
won’t be able to find him.”

“You need to go through legal channels,” Jordan insisted, and really, what else did you expect a lawyer to say? “And will you please sit down? You’re giving me a migraine.”

I gave him a derisive look and flopped down in my original chair. “See where that’s gotten me.”

“Not in jail?” He pushed out of his chair with a smooth motion and rounded the desk.

He leaned back on the edge, folding his arms. I wondered briefly, off topic, if he knew how crazy sexy he looked. If he realized how ridiculously inappropriate our positions were—him at the perfect height to unbuckle his pants and me at the perfect height to…. Damn that Trevor for putting such ideas in my head (like they weren’t there before). I
was
an office ho.

“Look,” he said, raising his coffee cup to his lips and pausing to take a drink, “I think this thing with your dog could be moot anyway.”

“Finn is
not
moot.”

“The point is moot. Not your dog.”

“Can we stop using the word moot?”

His laugh was tinged with frustration. “Will you listen to me?”

I shut up for a moment.

“The point would be… a nonfactor if you guys got back together.”

“Apparently the rumor that straight guys don’t listen is true,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Let me refresh your memory. Me gay. Trevor straight. Me like boy. Boy like girl.”

He rolled his eyes at my caveman impression. “Yeah, I heard what he said. I also heard what he didn’t. You ever notice that people say the most when they’re not talking at all?”

“Glad I was present the exact moment that you turned into Confucius.”

“Fine, Mackenzie, use your sarcasm to keep me at arm’s length. But you know I’m right. It doesn’t sound like he’s done with you. And you certainly don’t look like you’re done with him,” he added.

I didn’t debate the point because really, I was realizing something new and scary myself. I was
mad
at Trevor. Frustrated with him, certainly. He’d owed me more as his friend and boyfriend both. But he wasn’t the one I desired right now. He wasn’t the one who’d been on my mind all night. And he certainly wasn’t the one I’d imagined fucking me at Asher’s. Nor the one whose package I was covertly staring at, conveniently at eye level.

Suddenly his hand appeared in my line of vision as he laid it on mine and squeezed. My eyes shot up to his, and we looked at one another, his expression surely as confused as mine, before he yanked his hand away.

“Give him some time. Maybe he’ll come around. I’ll bet he’s confused.”

I gave him an eyebrow. My gaydar had the occasional fritz, but I knew I’d felt a vibe. “Seems to be going around.”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand me and flushed adorably.

“Mr. Channing?” The voice was back.

Jordan answered the intercom, looking absolutely relieved to not have to field that one. “Yes, Susan?”

“Rachel just arrived in the lobby. Should I ask her to come up?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I’m on my way down.”

Feeling dismissed, I stood. I didn’t offer my hand. It was just as well that I wouldn’t be feeling the sparks from Jordan Channing’s hand in mine again. What the hell was with me and straight guys lately?

“Want to walk with me to the lobby?” he asked, and I declined.

“I know my way down.”

“Sure,” he said, nodding. After a moment, he cocked his head and asked, “You’re not going to listen to me, are you?”

Not a chance.
The one guy
I
wanted to come running didn’t even play for my team. I didn’t say that, though. I waved instead on my way out. “Thanks for the save, Jordan.”

I
SLAMMED
the door of my pickup with certain force, and it threatened me back, nearly falling off. I was still pissed at Trevor but not pissed enough to miss lunch. I’d planned to be at my desk today, and to avoid Drew’s evil eye when I usually sauntered out for lunch break, I’d brought my lunch with me.

Or at least that’s what I called my sad sandwich and apple this morning. I shook out the paper sack, disbelieving I’d packed so light. Lunch always seemed less important in the morning, and you’d think I would’ve learned my lesson by now. Usually I was stuck staring at Drew’s expertly packed meal—leftovers from the night before—complete with side dishes and silverware. I dug up an old bottle of apple juice from the cab and took a swig.

“Ugh!” Apparently old apple juice tasted a bit like urine.

I listened to random stations in my car, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. At this rate, lunch wouldn’t last long at all. I looked at my clock. I probably even had time to get in a little surveillance on the lovely Blakes. Suddenly the door of my cab opened, and Jordan stood there, holding my phone in his left hand.

“You forgot this.”

“Thanks.” I took it and tossed it on the dash.

His lips twisted wryly. “Glad to know it’s so important to you. That I saved your very life.”

My responding grin died as Jordan heaved himself up into my dusty cab. He shut the door behind him, squeaking on its rusted hinges, and settled down on the cracked vinyl.

“So what’s up?”

I looked at him in confusion. “What
is
up? What happened to Rachel? Do you no longer need my services? A lot of my clients
do
just choose the put-her-feet-in-concrete-and-dump-her-in-a-lake option, but I never get used to it.”

“Cute. Rachel came to tell me she has a meeting and can’t meet for lunch.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Should I be punching the clock, or what?”

“Nah, she really has a meeting. I think.” He looked around, eyeing my cracked dash. “I came to find out what makes this so preferable to going to lunch with me. So far, I’ve got nothing.”

I stared at him, nonplussed. I wasn’t prepared to answer why, exactly, eating with him was such a horrible idea.

“I’m even paying,” he said, his fingers resting lightly on the door handle. Which promptly fell off. “My God,” he said, raising disbelieving eyes from the slain door handle to my defensive gaze. “Surely the PI business can’t be that bad. Even in this economy.”

“Is there something wrong with saving?” I demanded, taking a bite out of my PB and J sandwich. “And this is PB and J by
choice
. Not necessity.”

He grinned.

“Besides, I was saving… we were saving. For a house.” The sandwich suddenly tasted like dust in my mouth.

He looked sympathetic for like a millisecond before he was on my case again. “I hate to tell you, but Trevor makes more than enough for any kind of house you have in mind.”

“I wanted us to be equals,” I said defensively. “Especially in our own home. I have more than enough for the kind of house
I
had in mind, but Trevor…. Trevor has different tastes.”

“You should teach a class in euphemisms. That your way of saying he’s a stuck-up, social climbing snob?”

Even after all he’d done to me, I felt disloyal nodding.

He laughed softly, almost to himself. “And this is the person you’re still pining for?”

“Pining may be too strong.”

“Pining seems just about right,” he said, almost affectionately. I thought if he was my brother, he might have ruffled my hair.

“It’s so odd how he’s just… moved on, you know? It’s like some crazy part of me is waiting for him to come to his senses.”

His smile was gentle. “And his senses would be loving you?”

I flushed. “I know I’m no prize, but… yes.”

“I guess it depends on what the game is.”

I think I almost gave myself whiplash turning to look at him that fast. I found him staring out at the passing traffic, expression closed, and I turned back to the front. Did he just say I was a prize? I couldn’t take it anymore, and I figured there was only one solution, really, a novel idea. I had to ask. “Jordan, I don’t like to assume anything, so I need to be frank.”

“Shoot.”

I could feel his eyes on me, measuring, assessing, but now I couldn’t look in his direction. Otherwise, I would never believe I was about to ask Jordan, unbelievably gorgeous and put-together Jordan,
straight
Jordan, if he was hitting on me.

“I’d like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character. And I don’t think you’re the kind of guy who would play with someone’s feelings.”

He nodded. “Yeah?”

“Nor do I think you’re particularly oblivious, which leads me to believe you’re well aware of all those signals you’ve been sending me.” I waited for some sort of denial, but there was nothing. My heart started to trip a little off beat. Was I right, then?

He blushed, and suddenly
I
was embarrassed. What was wrong with me? Why did I put him on the spot like that?

“I have a fiancée.”

“I know.”

“I’m not gay.”

I covered my eyes. “I
know
.”

“Maybe I just like you. Maybe you should stop analyzing everything to death.” The sunlight hit his eyes, making them impossibly beautiful.

“Do you wear contacts?” I blurted, almost mesmerized. It didn’t really matter if he did, but as usual, I had to say the first thing that came to mind.

He reached through the open window and opened his door from the outside. As he exited my truck, he looked amused, as if he wanted to laugh. “I’ll see you later, Mac.”

“Am I fired?”