Page 40 of The Arrogant's Redemption

I’m about to put it down again when it starts ringing, and the screen shows the number I just dialed.

I’m tempted not to answer, then feel like slapping myself for being so scared.

"Hello."

"I got a call from this number."

Jesus, he didn’t recognize my voice.

"Um . . . LJ, it’s Alexis."

"Alexis?" he repeats, like he can’t believe it.

"Yes. I need to ask you something. When you said I might get hurt if we got involved . . . what did you mean? Do you have a girlfriend?"

Lazarus

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

"What's the right answer?"I ask, feeling even more off-balance than I’ve been all week.

"I don’t want the right answer. I want the real one."

"When I told you there was a chance you’d get hurt, I meant that I don’t do long-term relationships," I begin, unsure for probably the first time in my life whether that’s still true.

I haven’t stopped thinking about Alexis since the second I left her town, and that has to mean something.

At the very least, it means I need her mouth on mine again. Actually, her entirely.

"This isn’t the kind of conversation I want to have over the phone," I go on, glancing at the open planner on my office desk.

I check quickly—no surgeries scheduled until next Tuesday.

I haven’t operated daily for over a year. Nowadays, I only take on cases that are particularly challenging or who request me by name, like that European leader last week.

"I’m not sure I follow."

"Have dinner with me. Just dinner."

To my relief, I hear her laugh. I’m completely out of my depth here. It feels like Alexis could slip through my fingers at any moment, and until I figure out what the hell this lack of control around her means, I’m not letting her go.

"Do you always give women that kind of warning? 'Just dinner?'"

I don’t tell her that, most of the time, dinner isn’t even on the table. I get involved with women who want the same thing I do: physical satisfaction, no strings. Only with Jodie—who, at first, seemed to fit my preferences—did I show up at a few social events. Even then, I made sure no one got the impression we were in a relationship.

She kept things discreet too, which was one of the reasons I misjudged her. In the beginning, Jodie didn’t bring drama—something I always ran from. We seemed like a perfect match, like hand and glove?1.

"No," I answer simply.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"I don’t know how to answer that without scaring you off."

"Try."

"I don’t usually have to chase women. It’s the other way around. You’re an exception."

"Because I’m poor?"

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