Page 10 of The Love Bandits

In truth, I don’t love beer, other than some of the fruity flavors a few of the breweries around here have gotten creative with, but I won’t be drinking much of it anyway.

I pull out the cans of food, and Professor X gives an excited yowl and scratches at them. So I open three and set them out in a row, and he’s finished the third one before Jake can even pop the tops on the bottles of beer.

He takes in the scene without comment, but I see the questions forming behind his eyes. Not good. I have to speed thismess up. Still, the cat’s mewing, so I open a fourth container, then grab a bowl from the drying rack next to the sink and fill it with water, setting that out too.

Jake hands me one of the beers, his gaze a little shuttered. I can’t imagine what he suspects, but I have a feeling he hasn’t caught on that his ex-girlfriend hired me to steal back the necklace he took from her, so at least I have that going for me.

“Shall we sit on the couch?” I suggest.

“Sure,” he says, leading the way—and my traitorous eyes dip from his broad shoulders down to his ass. He’s several inches taller than me but not huge, like Declan and Damien, and he fills his clothes out well. So what? The same could be said for bodybuilders with protein powder for brains. He certainly doesn’t deserve any props for being good-looking and making the most of what genetics gave him.

We settle onto the couch, Jake a few inches away from me, and it’s only then I realize I forgot to take the beer. I’m off-kilter. Unbalanced. Maybe that’s because of the way he’s sitting—so damn close, his thighs angled toward me, his knee almost touching mine. One arm is stretched over the back of the sofa, his fingers close enough to burrow into my hair.

I take a deep breath to settle myself, ignoring the prickling sensation across my exposed skin and the warmth that seems to radiate from him.

My gaze lands on the coffee table. There’s a sketchbook on it, a pencil layered across the top.

“Oh, do you draw?”

“It’s nothing,” he says. Setting down his beer, he moves his other arm—the one that was nearly wrapped around me—and reaches for the book. He goes to stuff it into the drawer of the plain but serviceable end table next to the couch. But Professor X appears from nowhere like an avenging angel and takes a swat at it.

Jake swears and fumbles the sketchpad, and it falls open on the floor, revealing a hand drawn comic that makes me gasp. I see two little boys with curly hair in one panel, and a pair of foxes covered with fire in the next.

“That’s really good,” I say, surprised.

I’ve never seen such detailed pencil drawings in person before. I want a better look at it, but judging by the way he’s already slapping it shut, he’s not up for sharing. I study him with interest as he tucks the pad away. He’s upset and showing it. For only the second time since I knocked on his door, I feel like I’m seeing something real from him. The first was just before I ended up on my ass next to the dumpster.

“They’re only doodles,” he lies.

And there the moment ends. Rest in peace, moment of truth, you were good while you lasted.

“Cool,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “I like putting dumb little doodles together too when I’m on the phone.”

Get it together, Lainey. Stop antagonizing the man.

But I can’t seem to help myself. I take a minute to consider why, and come to an unwelcome conclusion. I’m doing it because I find Jake attractive, and just now, I found him a little interesting too.

I tell myself it’s no big deal, because I’d probably find a mop attractive right now—if it had a vibrator attached. It’s been a long time since I had sex, and much, much longer since it made me come. A good session with my vibrator is all it takes to send me over the edge. But Todd never did. He was a rich, attractive, white man, he was used to pleasing people simply by existing. So even though he had a big dick, he absolutely did not know how to use it.

I was also hyper-aware of everything I did when I was with him. Which angles were best for my face, my breasts. Which sounds he found the most appealing. I could never lose myself inthe moment. The stakes felt too high. I’d decided to marry him, and I’d gotten lost in that goal, to the point where everything I did was about placating or impressing him.

So here I am, sexually starved, sitting next to a very attractive man whose opinion I couldn’t care less about. It’s natural I feel a little drawn in by him.

But I can’t forget why I’m here. So I offer him a big smile. “What do you do for a living, handsome?”

He’s watching me a little warily, which isn’t great, but I still can turn this around.

“I’m a therapist.”

I nearly snort on the sip of beer I just took, but I clap myself on the chest and say, “Sorry, went down the wrong way.”

He angles his head. “I haven’t seen you around the building before.”

“I like to keep to myself, usually. I’m reserved.”

The doubtful look on his face says it all.

“Around most people,” I add flirtatiously, batting my lashes at him. “I feelverycomfortable around you.”

---