Page 118 of Deep Tide

“I heard about Sean Moran,” Joel said.

She kept her face blank. “What about him?”

He gave her a stern look.

“Is that why you’re really here on your first day back? When you’re bound to be up to your eyeballs in work?”

“You need to be careful with him,” he said.

“Joel, seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“What, because he’s some big, tough FBI agent and has a dangerous job?”

Joel nodded. “That’s part of it.”

She tipped her head back against the booth. “I can’t believe you. And Owen. This is déjà vu all over again.”

“What is?”

“All this macho bullshit. How does Miranda put up with this crap?”

He frowned. “What does she have to do with it?”

“Joel, do you even hear yourself? You’re warning me off Sean Moran because you think his job is dangerous.”

“It is dangerous.”

He still didn’t get it.

She leaned forward. “Joel, your job is dangerous. So is Owen’s. You’re both cops. Most of your friends are cops. Half the people who attended your wedding are cops. It’s ironic—and patently absurd!—for you to be sitting here telling me I shouldn’t hang around cops.”

“Not cops in general. Sean Moran. He’s working on something sensitive right now.”

Leyla never enjoyed arguing with her oldest brother, but she particularly didn’t want to do it now. She hadn’t seen him since his wedding, and he should still be floating on a cloud of newlywed bliss.

She scooted around the curve of the booth. “I have to get back.”

“Leyla, I’m not joking around with this. You need to steer clear.”

“Too late.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I don’t want to steer clear. I like him.”

He looked genuinely perplexed. “Why?”

“What do you mean why? Because I do.”

“That doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t even live here. He lives in Washington, D.C. You know that, right?”

Irritation needled her. “Yes, I’m aware. What does it matter? We’re just having some fun. And by fun I mean sex. Get over it.”

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