Page 2 of Diamonds & Deception

It’s not until our third pass that I see him exit the back door of the casino. I don’t want to interrupt his run too soon, so I wait to see which direction he heads, then go the opposite, knowing I’ll meet up with him halfway around the loop.

Unless he chooses an alternative route this morning. For the past two weeks, he’s taken the outside path as his warm-up, then runs down Commonwealth Avenue. I’ll intercept him before he does his second lap.

Daisy is more than ready to pick up speed. We continue our run, and when I see him in the distance, I crouch down and loosen the laces of my right sneaker and crank the music in my Air Pods. Thankfully, there aren’t many runners out right now. I want to sideswipe Drake but not take out any innocent bystanders.

As he nears, I move to the middle of the lane, forcing Daisy to get in his way. I stumble over my feet, hoping my acting skills are on point, and bump into Drake.

Damn, his chest is hard. I’ll be surprised if I don’t have a concussion from the impact. Drake, however, barely moves.

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry.” I cover my racing heart with my hand and pretend to be embarrassed. “My dog tripped me up. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“I’m fine.” He chuckles, and I realize he’s holding on to my biceps, keeping me upright.

Hell. His dark eyes are even more mesmerizing in person. The pictures I’ve stalked don’t nearly highlight the intensity behind them. Sweat dampens his scalp, making his pitch-dark hair curl around his face. Yeah. Pictures lie. Drake Reynolds isn’thot.He’s freaking on fire, and I’m so going to get burned.

“Are you okay?” He gives my arms a gentle squeeze before releasing me.

“Other than being humiliated? Sure.”

Drake bends to one knee and rubs Daisy between her ears, and I wish I was her right now. Only his hands on my...No. Stop. Gah!

I immediately curse my hormones. Women are extra horny when on their period, right? That’s got to be the reason I’m clenching my thighs right now.

“What’s your dog’s name?”

Dog? I don’t have a... oh yeah. “Daisy.”

“I had two boxers when I was a kid. They’re great dogs.”

Yeah. I know. It’s why I selected Daisy to foster for the next month.“She’s my lifeline.”Dumb. Stupid. Lifeline? Seriously, Nora?“I mean, basically, she’s my best friend. Love her to death.”

I’m not even two minutes into executing this plan, and I’m already blowing it. Daisy was supposed to catch his attention, which she has. I’d read about his childhood, growing up in a poor area of the South End and finding some sort of refuge with his dogs. That tidbit came from an article his high school wrote about him.

His high school was one of the lowest performing in the state, yet Drake was a shining star, staying out of trouble when trouble lurked all around, focusing on his academics and his dogs.

“Favorite flower, or did you name her after the book?” I’m about to tell him I adopted her with this name when he adds, “I’ve always loved hearing stories behind a pet’s name.”

I frantically search my memory bank for a character named Daisy. There are loads of titles, storylines, and characters stored away in the recesses of my brain. I’m not sure which book he’s referring to, so I go with the most popular one I can think of.

“The Great Gatsbyis one of my favorites.” I loved reading the book in high school and gained a deeper understanding and appreciation when studying Fitzgerald’s language in college.

Drake stands, an almost frown forming on his lips. “Is that the kind of love story you’re into?”

“Love story?” I snort. “It’s a tragedy. I mean, Daisy was a bitch and Gatsby was too single focused to see her for what she was.”

“I can’t argue with you there. I hated the characters and the storyline. I opted for the cliff notes and the movie instead.”

“Oh, you’re one of those who take the easy way out?”

This time Drake is the one who snorts. “I wish. My friends accuse me of doing everything the hard way.”

Bingo. It’s the opening I’m looking for. “What is it you do?”

He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back out of his eyes, and my gaze traces the muscles in his biceps.

“I work with numbers, mostly.”

“I assume in the financial district? Boston is a great place for working numbers.”

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