Page 3 of Need

“So he is stalking you,” Jonathan said, frowning. When I didn’t answer right away, his expression hardened. “Sharon, is he stalking you ornot?”

I nodded and he exhaled, running his fingers through his hair. I could almost imagine what he was thinking–he’d just been paired with someone with baggage he didn’t need. But it wasn’t Debbie’s fault. I never told anyone. It was bad enough I’d chosen this lifestyle and I didn’t need anyone’s judgment over my sexual preferences.

“What about the apartment in the Mission District? Does he know you’re staying there?”

“I don’t think so,” I replied, touching his arm. “I’m so sorry, Jonathan.”

He didn’t say anything for a few minutes as we stood there waiting for the car. When it arrived, he opened the door for me, not waiting for the valet. I got in and Jonathan slipped behind the wheel, not speaking. He looked thoughtful for a moment before he shifted the car intogear.

“Sebastian Lowery. That’s his name, isn’t it?” I nodded before he continued. “I knew I recognized him. He heads the tenant advocacy group I’m meeting with tomorrow over one of my latest developments. He’s also a fuckingass.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault that he is what he is, Sharon. I just hope you don’t plan on seeing him again,” Jonathansaid.

I scoffed. “I don’t plan on it, ever.”

“Good.”

We drove in silence for the next few minutes and as the streets flew past me, I realized he was driving me back home. So much for Debbie’s recommendation that I’d be perfect for him. I hadn’t expected Jonathan to take me back to his hotel room but the night was still young. Clearly, I’d assumed too much. “I’m so sorry this didn’t work out. Thank you for the lovely dinner. I had a wonderfultime.”

“It’s not what you think, Sharon,” he said, reaching for my hand on my lap and squeezing it. “I like you. I do. And Debbie’s hardly ever wrong.”

“But…?”

He shrugged, turning right at the intersection. Five more lights and the night would be officially over. “I’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning with your ex-boyfriend and he’s one of many people who’ve wanted my head on a stick.”

“I’m so sorry, Jonathan.”

“Stop apologizing,” Jonathan said sternly. “And definitely not on his account.”

“Yes, Sir.” The honorific slipped from my lips before I could stop myself. As Jonathan looked at me, frowning, I panicked. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry.”

Then he laughed and I laughed, too. He had a smile that could light up the night sky, a perfect row of teeth set against a handsome face. Suddenly I didn’t feel like such a loser for failing to impress him enough. Like Debbie said, even if we didn’t hit it off, he’d be a valuable friend, and I believedher.

Already, I could tell. Jonathan Drazen wasn’t like all the others.

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