For a moment, all I can do is stare out of the wall of glass. Four levels down, pedestrians hustle through the busy Philly streets and aggressive drivers blare their horns in protest. Those scrambling below can see us, but are blind to my insecurities and deaf to my words. I shouldn’t be so nervous, and yet I am.
Curran intimidates the hell out of me—not because of his imposing presence, or that virtual arsenal clipped to his leather belt. Oh, no. He’s intimidated me since the first moment I met him—back when he wore a backward baseball cap and sweats, long before he’d carried a badge and gun. His easy smile and confidence brought women to their knees…including me.
I lower my chin. Daunting physique aside, Curran scares me. He’s seen a side of me no one else has, one I want to keep hidden. After all, I did a lot more than bask in his glory while I was down on my knees.
“You didn’t answer me,” he says. “Why didn’t we head to court first?”
“I needed to shut down my computer,” I respond, wishing my voice held more conviction.
“That could have waited. You hauled serious ass out of Deck’s office. Don’t tell me it’s because you couldn’t wait to get back to numbnuts back there.”
“No, of course not.” I blink up at him. Curran’s as tall as I remember, but his athletic build has widened to resemble more of a boxer’s physique than the soccer player I knew. I suppose with his line of work he needs more bulk, and that his days of fun and games are long over. “I needed a moment,” I admit.
“Why?”
My brows knit tight. “What do you mean, ‘why’? Because, well, because of—” His grin causes me to trip over my words. If memory serves, I awoke somewhat intelligent this morning. I clear my throat, the flicker of amusement lighting his eyes making it clear he’s enjoying my torment. “Your presence caught me by surprise,” I manage.
“Believe me, I almost fell off that damn chair when I realized who you were,” he says, chuckling. “Which leads me to ask, why the hell are you so pissed?”
“I’m not pissed.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“I am not!”
“Then why are you yelling?” he asks, laughing harder.
“I’m not yelling,” I say, quieting. I glance around. “Listen to me, Officer O’Brien—”
“It’s Curran. But I think you remember that.” The edges of his mouth lift. “And my guess, based on how you’re acting, is you remember a lot more than that.”
My lips part and heat spreads along my body. “You…cad.”
“What?”
“I said you’re a cad!”
He removes his hat and sweeps a hand over his closely buzzed hair. “I heard what you said. I’ve just never heard anyone aside from Bugs Bunny use that word. You gonna call me a scoundrel next?” He holds up his hands in surrender when I all but stamp my feet. “Look, lighten up. I was just as shocked to find you here as you were to see me. But so what? What’s the big deal?”
I take a breath, willing myself to remain calm. “The big deal is, I’ve worked hard to get where I am. This internship can open doors, or it could close them tightly behind me. I don’t want my morals or position questioned because of my past, ah, indiscretions.”
“Indiscretions,” Curran repeats. “So you don’t want anyone to know we…went to college together.”
My attention falls to the soiled concrete that makes up the landing. “Yes. Please don’t tell anyone that we, ah, attended the same college, as you put it.”
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay?” I repeat. “Really?”
“Yeah. I get it,” he assures me.
My shoulders relax as my worry lifts and dissipates in the coolness of the stairwell. Once more, my eyes sweep over his physique, stopping to scrutinize his face. I focus on each feature: those light blue eyes, his square jaw, and the curve of his nose. Miles Fenske was right. While glimpses of the young college student I knew remain, his visage reveals a man familiar with the rough city streets and the madness that comes with surviving them.