Page 80 of Mr. Flirt

Maybe I really wasn’t the relationship type. The idea of being used and abused by someone wasn’t my idea of fun, and I certainly couldn’t imagine pulling myself up by the bootstraps and signing up for more.

But Danni always left me in awe. She had a heart of gold and believed in something I just couldn’t bring myself to believe in.

Regardless, I walked over to the kitchen and put in a tray of enchiladas that I’d picked up from the deli on the way home. I tossed some lettuce, cherry tomatoes, and sliced cucumber together and shoved it in my fridge and went to sit at the dining table where my laptop was open.

Before I left the office, I’d sent a scathing email to the legal team for Danni’s ex. I could feel it in my bones that they were concerned about their client’s behavior and what more he’d pull out of his hat as a trial neared.

My team had combed through the financials that the forensic account handed over, and I felt really good about the fact that Danni would be handed two rentals free and clear, along with the house she was currently in.

I think his side knew those concessions were more than fair, considering what else I could throw on the table if we chose to do so, which could make things far more painful for him, but Danni wanted this done quickly. I scanned my inbox and had no new emails from them, which led my mind to worrisome places.

The infamous magazine with Shep’s smiling mug stared at me from the table. I tapped my finger and debated whether or not to dabble before he showed up.

My stomach tightened, and I glanced around the room like I was doing something I shouldn’t. But he even said I should read the article.

As I slid my fingers along the glossy pages, I landed where I’d last left off, and my heart sped up a little.

I stared at the last sentence I’d read and started again.

Shep: I can promise you that love isn’t looking for me, either.

Interviewer: Indulge me. Let’s pretend your heart was ready, and you wanted to find that forever person.

Shep moved uncomfortably in his seat and flashed his boyish grin. (Editorial insert: If this interviewer wasn’t already taken, I’d probably bat my lashes and wish for a hotel key.)

Shep: Fine. She’d beat me at my own game. I want a partner who’s ready to tell me when I’m out of line. Knock me down a few notches when I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t mind a little friendly and not-so-friendly banter thrown at me. I want someone intellectually stimulating, but she doesn’t mind if I take control once in a while. Someone who asks me where I’ve been all night or what I did in my day. I want someone who asks questions and delves deep for answers. In a perfect world, I want someone who hates love as much as I do while miserably loving every part of me, flaws included.

Interviewer: Sounds like you should find yourself a divorce attorney.

Shep laughs.

Shep: Is that so?

Interviewer: You perfectly described my own.

Shep smiles.

Shep: Yeah? What’s her number?

Interviewer: I would never have guessed that you wanted someone so challenging.

Shep: You forget one key piece of information. You asked me about a hypothetical woman, and I’ve already pointed out that I’m not interested.

Interviewer: Right. Yet, you had an answer.

Shep: Indeed, I did.

My pulse pounded wildly as I reread the repartee. Was that what he saw in me?

The doorbell chimed, and I sprang off the chair to answer the door. A shiver of delight ran through me at the thought of getting to see Shep again.

Last night was incredible and steamy and filled me with something I still couldn’t put my finger on.

And now this article, which I still hadn’t finished, got me all wound up like a Jack-in-the-Box.

Everything that happened at his condo last night was unexpected and completely unlike me, but Shep always managed to pull out that side of me. The only thing I could attribute it to was that I knew neither of us wanted much of anything.

Right?

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