Page 203 of The Last Good Man

38

MELODY

Igo backto work after an hour of incessant questions about Jax––he has that effect on women, and my mother is no exception.

He’s never looked my way.

Theywere still in the restaurant when I walked out with my mother, and we said our goodbyes in front of the restaurant and went our separate ways.

Entering my office moments later, I do the most unexpected thing. I callhim.

Hedoesn’tanswer. I knew he’d do that. My irritation only grows as I call him again. And again.

Okay.

I give up after scolding myself for acting silly.

I won’t fix this by talking to him on the phone.

I drop my cell phone into my purse and impatiently wait to go home.

The real estate agent calls me after six and asks me if I’ve made up my mind, putting more pressure on me.

It’s not only that.

I believeherwhen she says the property won’t be available forlong.

But I still need to get my financingin place, and my head is simply not there.

Seven o’clock finds me at home in the bathtub with a glass of wine and a storm of ideas in my head.

A loud knock on the door makes me spill my wine when I toss my drink on theedge of the bathtub.

Startled, I rise to my feet, ignore the towel, and slide my bathrobe on.

With my hair still wet and dripping, I run my fingers below my eyes and make a beeline for the door.

I have one man in mind, and my heart jolts in my chest like a puppy.

Luckily, I tiptoe to the door before peeking through the peephole.I havea hard timeidentifying the man in front of my apartment because of the dim lights. Not to say he has his back turned to me.

Who does that?

This is not Myron Smith. He is shorter than the man in front of my door.

And it’s not Jax.

Jax is taller than this man.

And then, a crazy idea pops into my head. Shoot. This is Marlowe Jones.

It’s Wednesday, and it’s seven o’clock. He thought I’d have drinks with him and maybe sleep with him later.

A hand slides over my mouth.

The thought of having a conversation with him now, which might turn into aconfrontation,makes me stealthily back away.

He knocks on the door again, and I’m sure he knows I’m home.

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