Page 9 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

On that note, I probably should have said I couldn’t help him. I don’t have enough experience with men to know how to control my responses to him. The fact that I agreed to put my reputation on the line because he held my hand and looked deep into my eyes is proof of that. I didn’t know how to say no to that penetrating gaze, and that doesn’t bode well for my ability to contain myself going forward.

But I don’t go back on my word, and I’m not a quitter, so somehow, someway, I have to get through this.

A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s time to pack up to meet Delaney. I’d really like to skip it. I can’t keep secrets from her, and if she asks about my new client, there’s a chance she might read my emotions on my face. But I had to cancel last time because of a last-minute problem with one of my fundraisers, and I can’t bring myself to do it again.

She’s at our usual booth next to the front window, where we can see both the world outside and the one in the restaurant. It’s one reason why she’s my closest friend. She knows I never tire of watching the world around me, and even though she thinks that after eight years here I shouldn’t be so awed by everyday life, she indulges this quirk I have to take in all the things that weren’t commonplace where I grew up. Like fashion...and billboards.

“I gave you that side so you can ogle the new ad across the street.” She smirks as I sit.

I glance to my left and find the one she’s talking about, a woman mid-stride carrying a bright red leather bag. She looks both edgy and poised, and for a moment I get lost in the image, imagining where she’s rushing off to.

“Such a waste,” Delaney mutters, shaking her head. “How can you sit there salivating over ads all the time and never indulge in the things being advertised?”

“I’m not salivating. I’m admiring.” That pastime never gets old for me, because I grew up watching women create beautiful things from nothing, and it fascinated me. Of course, those beautiful things weren’t as flashy as what’s on the billboard across the street, but they were creative in their own way.

“Stopadmiring. Buy the bag.”

“I don’t need the bag.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have it.” Delaney grins mischievously. It’s the same conversation we’ve been having since college. She thinks I covet the items being advertised because I grew up without them, and I’m denying myself by admiring without indulging. But the truth is I don’t covet them, I just appreciate the artistry behind them.

Our waiter arrives to take our orders, and after he leaves Delaney launches into a tirade about the date she had the night before. She’s the eternal romantic so she keeps trying despite having horrible luck in that department.

“He talked about his ex-wife half the time,” she grunts. “I get that he’s just starting to date again, and that got him a free pass on our first date, but I draw the line after that. No way I’m going out with him again.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean, if all he can talk about is his ex, it makes you question whether he’s over her, and I have no interest in sharing a guy with his ex-wife.”

“Yeah.” I nod heartily, though I have nothing else to add.

“If a guy spends more time talking about his ex than he does trying to get to know me there’s no point in a third date.”

I’m on the verge of agreeing when I hearhisname. Turning in the direction of the bar a few feet away I see his picture on the TV. It’s too noisy to make out exactly what’s being said, but it must be something to do with the upcoming season because several men at the bar start talking about what a great year he had last season, and how they’re expecting more great things.

“Hello, earth to Sam.” Delaney waves her hand in front of my face. “Since when do you follow football?” She glances between me and the TV.

“Oh, sorry. I just recognized the name.” I apologize, hoping she’ll leave it at that.

“Colt?”

I brace myself to answer, hoping my expression comes off as neutral.

“Yeah, I met him today. He’s my new client.” I wave my hand dismissively.

“Get out!” Delaney leans forward with wide eyes. “Is he as hot in person as he is on TV?”

“I guess.” I squeak, hoping I’m not blushing.

“Wow. I’d make an exception for that one.”

“An exception?”

“Well, yeah. He’s a total player with a new girl every year, but I mean, look at him.” She gestures to the TV. “Even if he’s a manwhore I’d take my turn with that one. A man that tall and sculpted, I bet he doesn’t disappoint.” She grins wickedly.

“Delaney,” I hiss, hoping to sound more shocked than hurt, because the last thing I need is my observant friend to suspect I thought we shared a moment. Or that I believed those moments might have meant something.

“What?” She feigns a pout. “A girl can’t fantasize about a romp with a piece of eye candy like that?”

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