More Than Hate You (More Than Words)

“When he first started, I called to introduce myself and advise him that I’d be working on some critical projects under his purview. During our conversation, I’m pretty sure he was having sex with his previous assistant. She wasn’t quiet.”

I grimace. “And no one calls him on that behavior?”

“Who’s going to tell the boss’s son to clean up his act?”

She’s got a point, but Bruce Rawson should have taken care of that long ago. Maybe he tried, and Shane just doesn’t care. Or maybe his health is failing more than Brady led me to believe.

“Wow… It’s almost too bad Brady and Rogan aren’t involved in the organization. At least Brady has drive, and Rogan is smart.”

“Right?” She sighs. “Did Rogan say why he thought you needed to call me?”

Is she wondering if the guy let the cat out of the bag about the fact they’re siblings? “After I explained my fiasco with his oldest brother, he assured me you could help. He was right.”

“I try.” She pauses, then grunts in frustration. “I think this computer is taking a freaking update. Seriously? Now?”

“Never happens at a convenient time, does it?” I empathize with her, but I don’t mind. Our conversation is going somewhere. I want her to feel comfortable with me. No, she’s not being honest yet…but I’ll get her there.

“I can call you another time if you want to leave the office, grab your dinner, and enjoy your evening,” she offers.

“I’m good. I had a late lunch, and I’m not in a hurry to head home and choke down something frozen to the sounds of the nightly news. This is way more entertaining.”

She laughs. “I like a good mystery, too.”

Sloan is a lot more laid-back, even friendlier, than she was during our first conversation. It’s progress. I wonder how she’ll take to some light flirting. “That’s part of it. But I also like talking to you.”

“Thanks. Same.”

Besides hearing a smile in her voice, I also detect the merest hint of something soft and Southern that makes me hard. And it’s mighty interesting that she didn’t revert to professional mode or shut me down.

Yeah, it’s fucking stupid, but Sloan intrigues me. I wish I could see her whole face, not just a profile in her picture.

“My computer is almost done,” she remarks into the momentary quiet. “Sorry for the delay.”

“No problem. Word of warning: I hate awkward silences, so I’m going to fill it with something ridiculous.”

“Perfect. I don’t like them, either. But I’m not convinced you can be ridiculous, so lay it on me.”

“Favorite pizza topping?”

“Oh, we’re getting to the important stuff right away. Okay, it’s a toss-up between spicy sausage and mushrooms, so when I order pizza, I get both. You? I mean, I told you something deeply personal, so…”

“I have to return the favor, is that it?”

“Of course.”

I like this Sloan as much as I liked the sharply professional one—for different reasons. The first one came across as smart, reliable, and capable of handling whatever anyone tossed her way. This one? She’s witty and unexpectedly fun.

Smiling, I settle back in my chair to enjoy the conversation. “Spicy sausage, absolutely. I like a good mushroom, too. Onions, bell peppers, and olives. I love fresh basil, garlic, oregano…”

“Yes! Some of the pizza in New York—”

“With the fresh basil, right?”

She groans. “The best. I haven’t been to the city in so long.”

Since I used to live a mere train ride away, I probably feel its loss more keenly. But that’s not Jeremy’s past; it’s mine. I need to keep that in mind.

“I’d like to go more.” That’s not a lie.