Page 20 of Rumor Has It

“What’d you order?” I ask.

“Was he cheating?” Frowning now, he sets his smaller cup aside.

“Worse,” I confess, my voice cracking the slightest bit.

“What’s worse than cheating?”

“I guess we’re really doing this,” I grumble against the plastic lid. After a fortifying drink, I set my cup next to his and slump in the tattered office chair. Literally slump. My arms are on the chair’s arms. My knees together, lower legs splayed. I’ve sunk down so far that my neck is uncomfortably bent. I stay that way.

This is what I’ve felt like doing all week but couldn’t. I’m in the bullpen with the rest of the journalists. I’m the no-nonsense reporter with an important job to do. I’m in charge of writing Mia’s pet project and earning the majority of advertising dollars for the quarter.

I chew on my lip while I consider where to start the sordid tale.

“North has been working longer and longer hours tending to one client or the next. Things between us were okay but not great. I saw him, but not enough.”

“And the sex?”

“That’s none of your business!” I straighten in the chair, the heels of my Louboutins digging into the ugly brown carpet.

“No sex?” He lifts his eyebrows and whistles. “Had it been long?”

“I never said—”

“Was it longer than a week? That’s when I start getting itchy.”

“I’m not—”

“Two weeks? Damn, Kitty Cat.”

I shut my eyes and shake my head, trying to will away the flush creeping up my neck. Damn my pale skin.

“When is the last time you had sex?” My attempt to reclaim the upper hand has me turning the color of a candy apple.

He considers, his lips moving while he studies the ceiling. “Three weeks ago.”

“Three weeks ago? Are you ‘itchy?’” I ask with a disbelieving grunt.

“I’m dying.”

His tone is sincere, and I can relate so much I don’t know what to say.

“Are you?” he asks softly.

“It’s been two months, what do you think?” I mumble.

I expect him to overreact to the length of time I’ve been celibate, but he doesn’t. “You saw him but not enough. Go on.”

“One night he mentioned his new associate Maria who was helping him sell an apartment building. I was certain that’s who he was cheating on me with.”

Barrett gestures with a hand. Obviously.

“Saturday night I decided to show up at his office.” I pick at the material on the chair’s arm while I talk, the burn of shame igniting my cheeks. Embarrassment I can handle. Shame is more challenging. “And he was there with Maria. She was pretty, blond, and they were sitting very close.”

“This all sounds like cheating to me.”

“I followed him Sunday afternoon. He picked up Maria at the office and drove to the apartment building where they were supposed to go. I showed up Monday in his office at seven A.M. when he was working early, and she was there again. They were drinking coffee and poring over contracts.”

“The plot thickens.”

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