The Love Experiment (Stubborn Hearts 1)

“She knows it too.” Unlike the woman in front of him, who had no idea the effect she had on him. Honeywell’s hand was so close to his pec he could imagine her placing it there, stroking his skin.

“Here.” He put the cat in her arms, and Honeywell laughed when Martha said, “Foof,” then he snatched up a zippered sweatshirt and shoved his arms into it. He should move things, tidy up, create room for her to sit, but he didn’t want her here.

He pointed to the messenger bag. “How come you have this?”

She looked up from Martha, who waved a paw in the air for more pats and said, “Marah, marah.”

“You were ignoring me.”

Oh sweetheart, how I tried. “You didn’t read my email.”

“I read it.” She rubbed her chin on the top of Martha’s head and the cat said, “Yip,” making Honeywell smile. “I didn’t know what you wanted me to do with it.”

“It was my apology for the way I’ve treated you since the beginning.”

Martha squirmed. Honeywell looked equally uncomfortable. “That’s all?”

He’d messed this up. Thought it was obvious. He took Martha out of Honeywell’s arms and put her on the floor. “What did you think?”

“That it was a test.”

“Of what?” They watched Martha saunter over to a row of folders on the floor, select one—Sophia Arrugia, head injury—and sit on it. “And what cliché? There was no cliché.”

“That was just to get your attention.”

He played with the zipper on the jacket. It only went up part of the way before it jammed—there was too much of his chest on display. He tried to work the snag out, but made it worse. Now it wouldn’t go up or down.

“You’ve got my attention.” She’d gotten it the first time she’d smack-talked him, called him an asshole, back when he’d thought she was an intern, a cadet, too farm-fresh and pretty to get herself dirty with him.

“It’s the way you wrote it. First person, feature style. You didn’t use any swear words or long paragraphs or ten dollar words. But you outed yourself. I’m not sure what you wanted me to do with it.”

“I gave it to you to even things up between us. You were generous in what you told me and I was a—”

“Superior twerp. I read it. More than once.”

“I didn’t expect you to do anything with it. I wasn’t sure you’d read it.” That was a lie. He knew she’d read it. He’d written it with an eye to what she might choose to do with it out of spite, knowing he’d have to live with it. “And I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your messages. I was—” he looked at his folder system “—busy.”

“Is this the Keepsafe story?”

“This is one hundred and ten cases of fraudu

lently denied claims that we know about so far.” Martha stood, circled, chose another folder, circled and then sat. “Martha is now sitting on the Yang file. Amelia Yang, crashed through an embankment. She broke her jaw, nose, brow and both arms. She lost the sight in one eye. Her insurance claim was rejected.” Honeywell looked at him aghast. “A simple but terrible accident.”

Many of them were.

She tapped a file on the ironing board. “Oscar Hernandez, went through his windshield,” he said. She tapped another. “Abdul Yemani, got his hand caught in an extruding machine, lost his fingers.”

“Is there a file for the Shenkers?”

He picked up the messenger bag and opened it. The first file he pulled out had Shenker handwritten across it.

“You know all of these. All one hundred and ten of them.”

He nodded. “I’m scared to move them. I know that doesn’t make sense.” She was still looking at him as if she suspected he’d lost his mind. “This is what I do.”

“You’re amazing.”

Not what he’d expected her to say. The way her voice, breathy with an edge of cheerleader, licked up against his body as if it had a physical presence was unnerving. “Come on, not every room looks like this.”