Wanted

I took it tentatively, feeling strangely vulnerable.

It took me a second to get the letter out of the envelope. My hands were actually shaking. I didn’t yet know what Jahn had said in this note, but I knew that it was important. And, somehow, it affected me.

I unfolded the paper and read the words written in Jahn’s familiar scrawl: I had my reasons.

I read it again, then looked up at Evan. “What does that mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “It means he’s not holding me to my promise to stay away from you. What I don’t understand is why.”

His words seemed to ricochet through my mind. “But—wait. Where does it say that? How do you know?”

“I know,” Evan said.

“How?” I repeated.

He turned so that his back was to me and moved toward the wall of windows and the gray of the lake and sky. “Because that’s what it has to mean.”

I shook my head in confusion. “I don’t get this at all.”

He turned to me, capturing me in the wild gray of his eyes. “That’s what it has to mean, because anything else is unacceptable. I was fine until I touched you, Angie. Fine until we crossed that line. But now that I’ve felt your skin against mine—now that I’ve tasted you—there is no way I can keep that promise. So that is what Jahn’s note has to mean. It’s a Get Out of Jail Free card, sweetheart. And I took it—took you—because I wanted you. It has nothing to do with the goddamn notebook.”

“Oh.”

I sank down to sit on the couch as I tried to organize my thoughts. At the moment, I didn’t exist as a rational being. I was only emotion, and that emotion was joy.

Joy, yes. But confusion, too. “But at Destiny—you put me off. I mean, not only did you put me off, but you put on that whole show with that redhead.”

I heard the jealousy in my voice, and from the way the corner of his lip twitched, I knew he heard it, too. “I don’t get involved with the girls at the club,” he said, as my body sagged with relief.

“Never?”

“I believe I’ve mentioned that I have a code. And not sleeping with my employees is high up on my list.”

“Does that little redhead realize that?” I asked cattily, then immediately wished I could pull back my words when Evan chuckled.

“Careful,” he said. “Green isn’t your best color.”

“Dammit, Evan, I—”

“Hush.” He moved to sit beside me, then gently stroked my cheek before tucking my hair behind my ear. “Christy was putting on a show. For your benefit, actually, though she’s done it before. Sometimes I find it beneficial for colleagues to have a certain impression of me.”

“And she knows it’s all a show?”

“She does,” he said, then gently kissed the tip of my nose. “And so does Maria.”

“Who’s Maria?”

“Her lover.”

“Oh.” I grinned. “Oh,” I repeated as what he said sank in. But then I thought about it more, and had to press. “I still don’t understand why you did that. The whole show to turn me off. All the fighting to push me away. You’d read the letter by then. You had your Get Out of Jail Free card.”

“I know,” he said. He took my hand and idly traced my fingers with his. “I’m still a bad bet, Angie, and for all the same reasons.”

“You haven’t told me those reasons.”

“No. I haven’t. And I don’t intend to.”

J. Kenner's books