Page 14 of Save Me the Trouble
I sat back and linked my hands together, holding her eyes as I answered, “I enjoy photography. Nature photography in particular…because I don’t make it out of the office very often.”
Her eyes lit up, and damn, if it didn’t make it easier to keep talking.
“I do likeThe Fountainheadmore thanAtlas Shrugged,but my favorite books are the Sherlock Holmes mysteries.”
Her brows lifted, and it was like a punch of want to the gut.
“And my deepest…darkest…secret,” I said, lowering and slowing my voice until she started to tip forward in anticipation, “is that I like pineapple on my pizza.”
Her jaw dropped and then snapped shut, realizing I’d been leading her on. Still, she tried but couldn’t fight the smile that tugged on her full lips.
Damn, did it feel good to make this woman smile.
In my world, smiles came cheap. There were a billion reasons for women to smile at me
“See?” She cleared her throat. “Was that so hard?”
I smirked. “Your turn.”
Grace shifted in her seat. “Ask away.”
I let my eyes roam over her, confirming for the umpteenth time that she was far too overqualified for this job, and I didn’t need to know her academic background to see it.
“I want three things in return that few people know about you.”
Her lips pursed. “I like to sew—to create things with my hands since I’m usually in my head all day. My favorite book isA Court of Thorns and Roses.Romantasy, if you’re not familiar. And my deep, dark secret is…I love anchovies on my pizza.”
“Fair enough,” I replied, leaning forward. “What’s next?”
Relief swept through her, making me even more curious about what happened.
“Please tell the camera who your ideal partner would be.”
“Someone who doesn’t ask too many questions.”
She shot me a pointed look. “You promised.”
“I did,” I conceded, my teasing tone fading. “For a wife…I’d want someone independent and intelligent. Someone who challenges me and…supports me. I’d want someone not easily swayed by external influences.”
“External influences?”
“Money. Power. Image. Prestige. In my world, everyone has an angle, Miss Johnson. You’d be surprised how rare authenticity is.”
Grace’s eyes softened momentarily, and for a beat, I wanted her to ask more; I wanted her to know more… about me. And then my spine stiffened like there was a knife held to my neck, warning me how dangerous that would be.
“And you, Miss Johnson? What are you looking for in a partner?”
“Who says I don’t already have one?” she said so casually I wasn’t prepared for the surge of anger that lashed through me.
My fist tightened, my pulse thundering against the side of my neck. “Do you?”
It felt like the whole world stopped while I waited for her answer—an answer that shouldn’t matter but somehow seemed to have the power to stop my heart.
She stared at me for a second, swallowed, and then replied, “No, I don’t.”
Slowly, I uncurled my fingers, sure I’d hear them all crack with the effort to break their tension.
“Then it’s your turn to answer.”
