Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Pete 'Monty' Montgomery 1)

Devon would have leaped off the sofa if she hadn’t been fully aware it would make James suspicious. Fending him off wasn’t a concern. Monty had taught her self-defense when she was ten. But the wire—if James found it, she was screwed.

“Excuse me for a minute.” She said it calmly, without blurting it out. Easing away from him, she rose. “I’ll be right back.”

Anticipation glittered in James’s eyes. “Of course.”

Great. He thought she was readying herself for wild sex.

Devon went to the powder room, checked on the microphone and transmitter. Still in place.

Fruit and cheese was not going to deter James. This interrogation had gone as far as it could. Time to call it a wrap.

Prepping for the last act, Devon pasted a contrite look on her face and walked back out.

James was lounging on the sofa, a suggestive gleam in his eye. “Welcome back.”

She remained standing, launching into her speech without prelude. “We need to talk.”

He patted the cushion beside him. “Didn’t I just say that we’ve talked enough?”

“Yes. But trust me, we haven’t.” Devon rubbed her palms together. “This is my fault. I let it go too far. It’s just that I really like you. And I’m not good at drawing a line in the sand.”

One brow rose. “Are you about to tell me you’re still not ready?”

“Yes. No. Not in the way you mean.” She swallowed. “James, you’re a fantastic guy.”

Now he was frowning. “Why do I sense a ‘but’?”

“Because there is one.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I have to tell you something, now, before this gets totally out of hand.”

“I’m listening.”

“Blake and I…we’re…we’ve become involved.”

Icy silence permeated the room.

James just stared at her, his expression a literal version of the phrase if looks could kill.

“Since when?” he demanded.

“It just happened.” Devon gave a helpless shrug. “We didn’t plan it. It—”

“Yeah, I heard you,” he bit out, rising from the sofa. “It just happened. When did you plan on telling me—in bed?”

Devon felt like kicking him in the groin. “Of course not,” she forced herself to say as he glared at her. “I planned to tell you now, while we ate. It didn’t occur to me that you’d move so fast.”

“Obviously not as fast as my cousin.”

“Don’t be that way.”

“Which way should I be—understanding? Next you’ll be saying you want to be friends.”

“The thought had occurred to me.”

“Then get rid of it. I’m not ready to be that magnanimous. Not yet.”

“I understand.” Devon’s tone was pained. “I’m sorry if I handled this badly. It wasn’t to lead you on; it was to try to salvage some kind of relationship with you.”

“Does Blake know you’re seeing me tonight?”