Page 61 of Speak of the Devil

With a grin seated squarely on his face, Shane anchors his hand on the railing, pulling us both to our feet in one swift action. His other hand lingers on my hip. I look up, not sure what to say. I don’t care about his hand. I like his touch and his warmth. I remember it all so vividly, which makes me hate myself for being so easily manipulated.

He’s so tall in front of me. So tempting to cling to. . . I don’t because what’s the point? And because I got distracted enough to forget he has someone special in his life. This divorce isn’t coming out of nowhere.

I had fun . . . I’m still having fun.

Damn him.

Why did he go and ruin a good thing?

Feeling sick to my stomach from the thought of Shane with another woman, I move away from him, pressing a palm to the wall to steady myself. “Why can’t these stupid doors just open?”

“How are you, Cat?”Cate . . .We’ve come full circle as if everything between the question he asked earlier and then again just now has been erased. “Are you okay?”

“I’m . . . good.” I’m not at all, but we’re here for one thing, and that’s to get a divorce. My feelings don’t matter anymore and shouldn’t to him. This is just a formality before we return to our own lives again. “You?” No need to be rude when he so chivalrously let me sit on him.

“We’re about to find out.”

I stare at him, wondering what the hell that means. “Don’t worry, your bank account is safe from me.” I don’t bother to laugh. It wasn’t a joke anyway.

Willing the doors to open for us, I’m so close to banging and yelling, but I’m positive that won’t help in this situation. So I chant it inwardly instead of out loud.

“Money is the least of my concerns.” His voice is so smooth, so confident that I’m trying to read between the lines as if I’m missing something.

Why am I suddenly feeling paranoid?I’m sure he wants to get this over with and back to his fantastical life as much as I want to get to drinking margaritas with Luna. “Okaaay.” I glance up at the floor indicator, noting that we are forever stuck on the fourth floor. “That feels showy, but you are an entertainer.”

Offense narrows his eyes as he stares at me. “I’m a musician.”

“You’re an entertainer, though.” I shrug, missing his point. “Comme ci comme ça.”

“What?”

“It’s French.”

“Oui, parlez-vous français?”

“Non.” I waggle my finger. “I took Spanish in high school.”

Running his hand over his head, he looks up at the stalled number like he’s ready to escape as well. “I don’t even know how this conversation started.”

“I was basically saying it must be nice to never want for anything.” I dare to look his way again, catching him studying me like prey.

Should I be worried or—I pluck at my shirt again, hoping to cool off in the hot elevator.Damn.Why do I react so easily to him? He knows I do, too. I can just tell by the wry grin resting on his face.

He says, “I want?—”

The doors open. I throw myself into the lobby of the law offices just in case it decides to trap us inside for another round of battering my heart.

Shane’s exit is much cooler. He swaggers off like he owns the place. According to him, money flows like water right into his bank account, so I guess he could buy the place. I can’t get caught up in his chaos again. We didn’t have a great ending the last time. This meeting will make it final.

No use in delaying our destiny.

20

Cate

“I’m hereto see Mr. Whittier,” I say, whispering to the receptionist. “I have a meeting scheduled. We were caught on the elevator. Long story short, we’re late.”

She checks us in, and we follow her down the hall to the conference room. I stay close, needing to get my head off Shane and into the divorce game we’re about to play. The proximity of his presence caresses my backside, which I swear I didn’t imagine until my feet falter, and his hand keeps him from running into me.

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