Page 8 of Start With A Slap

“He’s gonna be an asshole,” Jason said quietly. “Don’t take it personal.”

She felt hot and exposed as he approached. Could he see her nipples through her camisole top? CouldJason? It wasnotcold in there…

Jason stood up as if Sever were a drill sergeant. She’d never seen anything like it.

“Sit down,” said Sever, “and introduce me to my daughter in law.”

Phrased as if they’d never met.Small favors.

Jason sat. “Sever, this is Ivy. Ivy, Sever Mark.”

Eyes never leaving hers, Sever extended his hand. Ivy took it and felt that buzzing electricity travel from his hand to hers, lighting up every sensitive area of her body. Why was he making her feel this way? It was maddening. And embarrassing. Much like his opener: “Come round to blondes again, have we?”

Oh that’s right, he’s an asshole. She shot Jason a glance. He was sighing, about to rev up a response, but Ivy couldn’t help but speak up. “I love being reduced to a hair color. Jason, you didn’t tell me he was so charming.”

She caught a twitch of a smile on Jason’s lips.

“I see it now,” Sever said, and sat beside her. “She’s sardonic.”

Offering to sit between Jason and his father was a poor decision. His proximity and naked eye contact made her heart pound, and their positioning dredged up suppressed images of her threeway dream. “I’ve been called worse. And better.”

“I’ll add clever, then.”

“She’s more than clever, she helped me win a huge case last summer,” Jason said, and Ivy knew that the intended takeaway wasI won a huge case. “She’s smarter than half the lawyers in the office.”

Sever asked her, “Are you smarter than him?”

“Depends on the subject,” she said, thinkingStop looking at me like that.

“Hm,” Sever said. “Did you sign a pre-nup or will you be taking all of my money when I die?”

Ivy knew that question would be coming sooner or later, but she hadn’t planned such a testy response: “You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Mark. All your money will die with you.”

“Then I guess you’re not very smart after all.”

Jason said, “Neither one of us care about your money, Sever?—”

“So, tell me,” he said over his son. “How did he land a peach like you? You must have a kicky little meet-cute.”

Jason gave her thigh a gentle squeeze, a message of solidarity. Probably because she’d just been called a ‘peach’, and he knew how much she hated it when opposing council gave her condescending pet names.

Not sure what he was looking for, Ivy gave Sever the Cliff Notes version of how they met: Young paralegal meets idealistic rookie lawyer, office romance blooms, secret Mexican wedding, enter rescue dog named Huey, a loft downtown, happily ever after,voila.

She left out the most important detail: that she fell for Jason the night she discovered that he moonlighted as a coffee house singer-songwriter, and it was an especially heart-wrenching song about never getting his father’s approval that did her in.

“Interesting,” he said, and followed with, “Which one of you doesn’t want a family?”

She was gobsmacked. How in the hell had he surmised that from her storytime? “I never said anything about…”

“It’s the dog,” he explained. “Means one of you wants to put it off for at least ten years.”

He was technically right—she’d suggested a dog when Jason started talking about kids. She hadn’t ruled it out completely,she just wanted to postpone for as long as possible. They’d agreed they were too busy with their careers right now, but Jason occasionally brought it up as a ‘joke’ when she took her morning pill. Either way, bringing that up was completely uncalled for. “I feel like that’s none of your business.”

“My potential heirs, my business,” he said, tugging on his suit cuffs. “I’d like to know if you’ll be producing them soon.”

“I’m not a production machine, and I’m not on a schedule.”

He lifted his chin to regard her. “So it’s you.”

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