Page 29 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

Will the qualities he likes about me start to bore him? Could my career suffer because I blurred the lines between personal and professional relationships? What will people say about our relationship when it becomes public, and how will I deal with that?

So far, it hasn’t been much of an issue. With his focus primarily on football, Colt and I haven’t seen much of each other. When we have, it’s been mostly behind closed doors or semi-private dining rooms. There have been virtually no instances where we could’ve been seen together.

That suits me just fine. I’m in no rush to share my private life with a bunch of strangers, and I’d prefer to let this thing between us, whatever it is, develop outside the prying eyes of the general public.

At some point, Colt’s popularity will catch up to us, and when that happens, I know people will try to dissect who I am. I’ve never been a stranger to the press. I’ve had to deal with them for work plenty of times, so it’s not the attention that makes me uneasy. I just think his fans are likely to be disappointed when they see plain old me hooked on his arm.

That will sting. Being judged always does--especially when the people judging you don’t actually know you. It’s the disappointment of the woman I'm about to meet that scares me the most. She knows all about my dating history, or lack thereof, and she’s likely to think I’m interpreting the signals wrong and seeing something that isn’t there.

“You started without me?” Delaney pouts as she slides into the booth, rousing me from my thoughts.

“I felt bad sitting at a table and not ordering. Plus, you were late.” Both are true, just not the whole truth. I take another sip.

“Sorry. I thought I had plenty of time to squeeze in a manicure before dinner, but I got a very chatty and slow nail tech. She did a good job though.” Delaney admires her shiny gray nails. “I have to admit I wasn’t sold on the color when the lady suggested it, but I really like it. Not as gothic as black but not as traditional as red.”

“Looks nice.”

“She says with her polite smile.” Delaney takes my glass and helps herself to a sip with a wry grin.

“It does,” I insist. “I just don’t understand the point. It wears off in a week or two, right?”

“Have you ever had someone massage your hands? Or feet? It’s heavenly.” She closes her eyes and sighs, a wistful smile playing on her lips. “And having pretty nails makes you feel dressed up even when you aren’t.”

“Oh, I get it! It’s like when you played dress up as a little girl. Getting your nails done reminds you of that.” I never did that as a child, which mortified Delaney in school, so she put me through the ritual before a party she dragged me to.

I admit dressing fancy was kind of fun, and I do it for fundraisers and galas where it’s expected, although I’ve never gone to a salon for something I can do myself at home.

“You may have a small point there.” She wrinkles her nose, “But the bigger point is you have to take opportunities to pamper yourself a bit.”

“That’s what food is for.” I pick up the menu I’d been too preoccupied to look at earlier.

“Well, unlike you, I have the metabolism of a forty-year-old, so I can’t indulge in food as much as you do. This is my pampering.” She wiggles her fingers. “And mine doesn’t add to my daily calories.”

The waiter takes that opportunity to notice Delaney’s arrival and spends a few minutes answering questions about the dishes we’re considering. Once our orders are placed, I’m expecting Delany to launch into her typical tirade about the perils of online dating, but instead of leading the conversation, she stares at me expectantly. “So?” Delaney prompts. “I’m waiting.”

It’s pointless to play dumb, yet I find myself hedging a bit, anyway. I’m still not sure what to say about Colt. There are parts of what’s happening I don’t fully understand, and parts I want to keep to myself. Pleading ignorance will only make things worse.

“I did it.” I can tell I’m using the polite smile, not the genuine one, though how anyone can be comfortable talking about their private life in public is beyond me.

“Did what exactly? And not with that smile, I hope.”

“I talked to Colt about something other than work.” Delaney’s stare is unwavering. I’ll have to give her more. “I told him about my childhood.”

“Which is directly related to your work,” she points out wryly.

“It’s a prelude, sure.” I fiddle with my napkin where she can’t see it in my lap. “He asked about what life in the village was like and I told him. Without turning it into a conversation about work.”

“That’s a start.” She looks me over critically, trying to determine what I’m not saying. “What else?”

“That’s not enough?” I wonder if she hears the defeat in my voice. I really hoped I’d get away with the childhood thing.

“You’re blushing. There’s more.”

Sometimes I hate the fact that she knows me so well. Or that I blush so easily. “We also talked about his daughter. That did start out about work. I suggested he talk to her school, and he thought that was a bad idea. He said it might embarrass her.”

“Of course, it would,” she snorts. “Even if your dad is famous, he’s still your dad. No child, especially a teenage girl, wants to mix parents and classmates. Besides, with someone like Colt, her classmates probably all have a crush on him. I can’t imagine the thought of my friends having a crush on my dad.” She shudders.

“He didn’t exactly put it that way.” I bite my lip, wondering if I’ve said too much.

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