Page 8 of Feel Me

“Excuse me?” he asks.

Okay, here we go. Boob appreciation hour is officially over. “I’m not trying to step on your toes.”

“But?” he asks, leaning back against his chair.

“But nothing. I respect that the decision is ultimately yours. I’m only asking for the opportunity to provide input.” He keeps his expression neutral, and I can’t be sure he’s listening. I force myself to continue. “There have been a few new hires, and a few D.A.s looking to be challenged. I’d like to observe them in court and see how they perform on their feet. More importantly, I want to observe how they interact with victims of the more violent crimes.”

Declan appears anything but pleased. Either I’ve pissed him off or I’ve pushed him into something he’s not ready for. “I’m going to lay it right out for you,” he says, his tone matter-of fact. “SACU is the unit attorneys least want. I’m surprised the A.D.A.s currently there have lasted as long as they have.”

All right. I did annoy him. “They’ve lasted because it takes a while to become acclimated,” I counter. “But once there, they realize their importance and how much the victims and their families depend on them to help them through the process.”

“I’m not saying the work or the victims aren’t important. What I’m saying is no one is exactly begging to work there.”

“I realize SACU is the last place our attorneys want to be placed,” I say, staring straight at him. “Especially those who enter this office strictly to make connections and jump start their political careers. But it’s one of the most important unitsbecauseof the sensitive subject matter and the degree of violence we see.”

I don’t mean to be so blunt, and maybe he doesn’t either, but here we sit with our gazes locked and the tension between us escalating.

Damn it. Dad wants us to work as a team. But the more we speak, the more I’m reminded Declan doesn’t want to be a part of this unit, and nowhere near me.

I inadvertently trail my fingers above the collar of my dress, it’s a nervous habit, much like when women tuck a strand of their hair behind their ear. But I never tuck my hair with my hearing aids in place. Any sound that brushes too close to the receiver such as the movement of hair, putting on a hat, resting my head against a pillow, even an intimate whisper, creates back noise similar to nails on a chalkboard.

My fingertips stroke close to the swell of my right breast as I think our situation through. I freeze when I realize Declan’s stare is following each subtle movement.

This is too weird. No way can Declan O’Brien be eyeing me like he wants to take a lick.

I ran into him at a restaurant a few weeks back. I was picking up takeout following a five mile run, still wearing the shorts and sports bra I ran in. Of course I had to see him. And of course he had to look good . . . and so did the blonde on his arm. She was a total stick and all legs, wearing a dress I don’t think I could have shoved my left breast into. I’m sonothis type. So then why . . .

“I’ll allow the input,” he says.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ll allow the input,” he says, a little louder.

This time I don’t correct him. I didn’t hear him, too busy watching him watch me which is absolutely ridiculous?ludicrous even?and good God, why does he have to look so good in that damn suit!

“Thank you,” I say, tripping over the word.

I start to stand, but then think better of it, sensing we’re not leaving on the best note. I promised my father I’d try to get along with him, so the least I can do is explain where I’m coming from. “I have a good relationship with Governor McAdams,” I begin.

He frowns like I’m rubbing it in his face. “I know,” he says, his features sharpening. “I’ve heard you’re close to her and a few representatives.”

The representative comment throws me off. It’s just one rep?Trevor Stone?who I know, and we’re not exactly friends. We slept together once following a fundraiser . . . and then again after another political event. Of course, I’m not telling Declan that.

I relax my stance, placing my hands out in front of me. “I’m not trying to drop names to impress you, Declan, nor am I trying to challenge your position in any way.”

“Then what are you trying to do?” He arches a brow when I don’t initially answer and adds “Just so we’re clear, I don’t respond well to threats nor do I bow down to anyone because of who they know.”

It’s taking all I can not to slump in my seat. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“Then you need to explain, Melissa. Because believe it or not I’m trying here.”

“I’m just letting you know where I’m coming from.” I sigh, when the air thickens further between us. “What I mean is I’ve met a lot of people doing what I do. And in fighting for victim’s rights as much as I have, I’ve earned a great deal of attention. Some of it’s not good,” I admit, thinking of all the people I’ve pissed off. “And some of it is, like the relationship I have with Governor McAdams. But the strong relationships I’ve made, I’ve earned from trying to help those who’ve been hurt.”

I stand because as much as I’m trying to leave on a good note, Declan’s tightening jaw is like a red flag warning me that I’m going down in flames. “Just understand I would never use who I know against you or disrespect your position. But if I need to help a victim who’s been wronged, I’ll do what it takes to make sure justice is served.”

When he says nothing more, I turn to leave. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

I pause with my hand inches from the knob.Yeah. Me, too.

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