Page 23 of Heated
I loose an abrupt, humorless chuckle. “How’d I do?”
She stretches out an arm and wags her hand back and forth. “Meh. Seven for the content but five for the delivery. You didn’t make mebelieveit.”
I snicker. “You’re crazy; you know that?”
She sighs. “That’s the rumor.”
A beat of silence passes between us.
“Thanks, Miriam,” I murmur. “I really appreciate it.”
“Enough to let me take over the advertising campaign?”
“Hell no.”
“Damn.” Then she says, “You’re welcome.”
Smiling, I twist the volume knob, and Lizzo singing about haters doing what they do carries us on into the office.
CHAPTER SIX
CYRUS
“Sooo seriously, you’re just friends with her?” Jordan presses, his skepticism clear in my ear. “Because if that’s the story we’re going with, I’ll pretend to agree, but from my perspective, there was nothingfriendlyabout the way you looked at her. Or that conversation, for that matter.”
I lean back in my office chair, tossing my pen to the desk. As long as he’s on the phone, work is a pipe dream. And when he’s on a roll, it’s best to let him get whatever is on his mind out or this could go on and on ... and on. It’s been only a day since our meeting in the parking lot of the Bacon Social House, and I’ve been waiting on this phone call. Frankly, I’m surprised it’s taken Jordan this long.
“Yes, we’re friends,” I grind out for the fifteenth time in the last eight minutes, skimming my email to ensure nothing pressing has come through.
“Cool. So you should have no problem with me being friends with Miriam too.”
“What the hell?” I scowl at my monitor as if it’s Jordan. “Is that why you’re bugging me for her phone number?”
If so, I’m kind of outraged on her behalf, even though I’ve met Zora’s sister only once. Although, part of me is a little worried forJordan if he plans on treating Miriam like one of those nameless women he fucks, then never bothers calling or seeing again. Again, met Miriam only once, but something tells me she’s not the type to go quietly into the good night. Fuck boiling a bunny. She looks like she’d go straight for his nuts.
A heavy sigh echoes in my ear. “No, goddammit. Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been saying? I can’t explain it, but she’s different. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to hit it, but she’s cool as fuck. I want her as a friend. She’s funny, crazy smart, and just plain crazy. But I still want to hit it.” Another sigh. “That’s why I’m calling your ass. I need advice.”
“What about me says I would be good with relationship advice?”
No, I really want to know.
“You the only motherfucker I know who’s been in one that’s lasted longer than three months or who isn’t cheating on his wife. I don’t need advice from those assholes.”
I snort. “And yet you’re the one who claims to believe in love.” I shake my head, even though he can’t see it. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jordan. You see how my relationship with Val turned out. Ours wasn’t based on a friendship and damn sure not love. And sex isn’t enough to make it survive.”
“You are absolutely no help and a fucking killjoy to boot,” he snaps. Then he says, “What are you doing tonight?”
“I—” I look up from my monitor at a knock on my office door. “Hey, let me call you back. Someone’s at my door.”
“Yeah, do that. Later.”
Setting my cell on my desk, I call out to the person on the other side of the door to come in. And as soon as it opens, regret for my haste fills me like bad moonshine. The law firm of Ryson, Dare, and Gregerson LLC boasts a stable of thirty associates and then partners, including junior and senior. Since I joined right out of law school, my goal has been to become the youngest junior partner in the firm’shistory. I’ve billed no fewer than two thousand hours a year and not only brought in new business but also retained existing clients. The partners have counted on me to do the legal heavy lifting, as I don’t depend on my paralegals or colleagues. My work ethic is above reproach. But that’s what happens when you’ve been fighting for scraps since you were twelve. You’re no longer satisfied with crumbs; only the biggest, most satisfying smorgasbord of a meal will do. And you don’t stop until it’s set in front of you.
Now, that goal is within my grasp. Gossip runs through this office faster than an STD in a frat house. I’m on a short list of names being considered for junior partner. And one of those people standing between me and that partnership is the man lowering his ass into the chair across from me. Without an invitation.
Derrick Warren.
I can’t stand the asshole.
