Page 99 of Not That Impossible

Swole?

Liam’s eyes tracked over me thoroughly, lingering on my chest and biceps. “Too unprofessional,” he clipped out.

“I am a personal trainer, DetectiveChief InspectorNash,” I said. “We’re supposed to dress like this.”

“Journalists, however, are not,” he said. He startled me by reaching out to pinch the fabric of my t-shirt. He pulled it away an inch, and let it snap back. “This is very tight.”

I batted his hand away. “It’s sweat-wicking.”

“It doesn’t leave anything to the imagination,” he said.

I gaped at him. “It’s not supposed to, you giant prude. The tighter the better. Both for wicking purposes and to showcase the results of your hard work.” I smoothed the fabric down over my damp abs. “See?”

I heard Liam swallow.

“Are you the fashion police now?” I said. “Or is it the morality police? Should my clothes be baggy?” I leaned my upper body toward him. “Should I be wearing beige?”

He narrowed his eyes. “All I’m saying is, it’s not very professional for a journalist to show up wearing a pink t-shirt sayingPUMP IT!!!to a crime scene, and expect to be taken seriously!”

I glanced down at myself. “Is it because it’s pink?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then what is your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem. I am here as a professional courtesy—because I want you to succeed, believe it or not—to tell you that it wouldn’t hurt, if you want people to take you seriously as a journalist, to take a leaf out of Karen Strickland’s book and present yourself that way.”

I went rigid.

That.

Was.

It.

I said through gritted teeth, “You drove over here to criticise my appearance and to tell me that I should try to be more likeMrs Strickland?”

“More or less,” he said. “Although when you phrase it like that, it makes me sound like a judgmental dick.”

“Imagine that! Are you sure you didn’t mean to say I should be more like Ray?”

“Why would I want you to be like Ray?”

“Because then I’d at least be more your type!”

He frowned. “Jasper—”

“No!” I threw up a hand. “No need to explain. I get it. You will be happy to hear that I finally, finally get it. I am not your type.” I shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Ray the spectacular kisser is your type.”

He laughed. “It wasn’t spectacular, it was fine. And it was one kiss. One date.”

I ignored him. “Of course he’s your type. Ray is everybody’s type. Not mine. But definitely yours.”

“He’s actually n—”

“Unlike me. And Liam, I accept it, okay? You’ve told me before. Over and over again. It never sank in. Well?” I laid a hand flat on his chest, and pushed lightly. “It has sunk the fuck in.”

Liam’s cheeks darkened.

---