Page 30 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

“How did he put it?” A skeptical crease furrows her brow.

“He said the attention his private life gets would embarrass her.” I can’t bring myself to look at Delaney as I say this, because I don’t want her to sense I have empathy for him despite his colorful past with women.

“I suppose manwhore isn’t exactly the image a kid wants her dad to have.” Delaney reaches for the glass our waiter just delivered.

“He’s not a manwhore,” I blurt before I can stop myself.

“Do we have different definitions for that? I’m not sure what else you call it when a guy runs through approximately a woman a year.” She arches a brow.

“We talked about that too, actually.” I twirl the stem of my wine glass, wondering how much to say in his defense. “Did you know he’s never broken up with any of those women?”

“You’re defending him?” Her eyes grow wide.

“I’m telling you the facts as he explained them to me. He’s a football player first, and he hasn’t found a woman that could handle all the focus he puts on the game.”

“That sounds an awful lot like you’re defending him. And why did you talk about his dating life, anyway? Flirting doesn’t usually involve talking about past relationships.” She shakes her head like she can’t believe I wouldn’t know that.

“You told me to be friendly and talk about stuff outside of work.”

“I told you to practice some harmless flirting with a guy who’d be easy to flirt with. You broached a lot of personal topics. The kind of topics that would endear someone to…oh god, you didn’t?” She covers her mouth to hide the fact that her jaw has dropped open.

“Didn’t what?”

“Didn’t fall for him.” Her expression is a mix of panic and concern, and while I know her intentions are good, that puts me on the defensive.

“I didn’t fall for him,” I state, which is mostly true. I like the butterflies he gives me, and knowing that he sees the real me, and I really like how it feels when he touches me. None of that means I’ve fallen for him, just that I’m intrigued by him. “I just think he’s not that bad of a guy.”

“Which means youcouldfall for him.” She surmises, probably correctly. “Shit. What have I done?” Delaney rests her head in her hands.

“What do you mean, what have you done?” I set my lips in a firm line, though she’s too busy staring at the table to notice.

“I set you up to be the man’s next conquest,” she says to the menu. “A man like that? I should’ve known he’d sense you respond to meaningful conversation. That he’d exploit your desire to form a connection and sweet talk you into his bed.”

“I haven’t been in his bed.” I say curtly.

“I know he’s good looking, but I didn’t think you’d fall victim to that.”

“Weren’t you the one who said you’d make an exception for those looks?”

“I didn’t expect you to break your no client rule.” She continues as if I haven’t spoken. “Or that he’d really try to charm you.”

Understanding dawns, and with it comes the realization that Delaney, no matter her intentions, doesn’t see me the way Colt already does. She doesn’t think a quiet and composed introvert can attract a man as charismatic as he is.

Yes, as little as a few weeks ago, I shared her assumption. Whether it was Delaney’s influence spilling onto me, or something I gleaned from my meager and unsuccessful experiences with men, I thought someone like Colt was beyond my reach.

Because of that, I should overlook what Delaney just said. Chalk it up to good intentions executed poorly, but not with malice. Except the factor she’s not considering, the factor she doesn’t know, is that Coltisinterested in me. Me, just as I am.

She’s assuming I’m a conquest, and that any attraction has to be one-sided. That hurts. And even though we both thought it improbable that Colt would be interested in me, hearing her say that he wouldn’t want me even as a notch on his bedpost means she still sees me as the charity case. She’ll nudge me out of my comfort zone under the guise of trying to help me, but she doesn’t think it actually will. She doesn’t think anyone could like me for me.

“So, what were you expecting?” I ask coldly. “I’d talk about something other than work and he’d smile, but walk away since I’m so disinteresting?”

“I…what?” She drops her arms to the table and looks up at me, blinking rapidly.

“Or maybe that I’d bat my eyelashes and pet his arm, but he wouldn’t reciprocate because I’m not pretty enough?”

“Sam, I never said you weren’t pretty.” She shakes her head adamantly.

“You said he wouldn’t actually try to charm me.”

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