Page 56 of About that Fling
“Are head shrinkers required to be patronizing assholes?”
“Touché,” he agreed, glad she was smiling when she said it. “Anyway, it’s easy to fall prey to that sort of fantasy. That maybe all the bad stuff happened for a reason, and now we can live happily ever after with the right person who just magically appeared out of the ashes of the affair.”
She nodded and flipped the lever on the gun to make it so it wouldn’t fire. At least that’s what Adam hoped it was. He had no idea what any of the parts were called, so he settled for watching her hands move over the intricate pieces of metal and wood. The clerk had called this one a .22 Mark III Hunter with a fluted five-inch barrel, and Adam had flinched at the word Mark.
Then he’d felt stupid for doing it, and forced himself to choose that gun just to prove he wasn’t bothered by it. That his ego could handle using a firearm that shared a name with the guy his wife left him for. Christ, did the echoes of ex-lives ever get quieter, or was it a matter of learning to ignore the noise?
Jenna picked up the other weapon and slid the clip into it, and it occurred to him this was the weirdest setting he’d ever had for a heart-to-heart discussion about relationships.
“So things didn’t work out with you and Ellen?” she asked.
“Not even close. Like I said, it only happened a couple times. It wasn’t long after that she moved away, so we really never talked about it after that.”
He waited for more questions, for a reaction that would tell him how she was feeling. She had every right to be weirded out by this. How often did a woman get together with a guy and discover she’s surrounded by females who’ve shared his bed or his heart or some combination of the two?
Still, they both had histories. She’d said it herself. Wasn’t this what modern dating was like most of the time?
She slid the clip into the other gun, seeming to decide something. When she met his eyes again, there was an odd sense of calm there.
“Come on,” she said, adjusting her earphones before fitting the gun into her palm. “Let’s blow the shit out of something.”
It was close to midnight by the time Jenna pulled the car to the curb outside Adam’s hotel and turned to face him. He watched her in the dim glow of the streetlight, a fresh pang of longing sliding over the current of adrenaline still pulsing under the surface of his skin.
“That was hands-down the best unromantic non-date I’ve ever had,” he said. “Maybe we should give the Marxist discussion a try next time.”
She laughed, leaning back against the headrest to reveal the smooth column of her throat, and Adam ached to kiss her there.
“You did great for your first time,” she said, and for a moment, Adam was still hung up on the kissing thing. “Once you got the hang of it, your aim was pretty good.”
“Thanks. If this mediation thing doesn’t work out, I can always fall back on becoming a sniper.” He unhooked his seatbelt and turned so his whole body was angled toward her. “Seriously, Jenna. I had a really great time with you.”
“Me, too. Spending time with you is just?—”
She didn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t have to. She was smiling, albeit a little wistfully, but that was enough.
Adam sighed and reached out to lay a hand on her knee. “I know when we first hooked up, we thought it was just a quick fling. When we realized it couldn’t be more than that, I figured it was no big deal. There are other fish in the sea and all that. But every minute I spend with you?—”
He stopped there, not sure what he meant to say. Not sure what he could say that wouldn’t make this whole thing harder.
“I know,” she said, swallowing. And he felt certain she did know. For some reason, words seemed to be failing both of them now. Perhaps it was the late hour, or maybe it was that there was too much they could say.
“We won’t be working together forever,” he said, reaching up to brush a lock of hair off her cheek. He left his hand there, and she leaned into it like a cat craving the touch.
Her cheek felt smooth under his palm, and for a moment they just sat there connected by only the lightest feather of contact.
“My contract with Belmont will end in a month or two,” he said. “After that, we wouldn’t have to worry about the professional side of things. About your employer claiming it’s a conflict of interest or anything like that.”
He waited for her protest, but it wasn’t the one he expected.
“You live in Chicago,” she said. “That’s a long ways away.”
“I don’t suppose you have a whole passel of relatives in the Windy City that you’d love to reconnect with?” He was trying to sound glib, but realized quickly he just sounded desperate. “Sorry, I?—”
“I don’t really have any relatives.” Jenna bit her lip. “No one but Gertie.”
He’d never asked about her family, but now didn’t seem like the right time. “I travel all over the country for my work,” he said instead. “It doesn’t matter that much what city I call my home base.”
“What are you saying?”
