"You just think you want me. Well, perhaps it's time you realized you don't always get what you want, Declan." Grabbing her jacket she stalked to the door, unlocked it, and turned back. "See yourself out."
She needed some time alone. He'd knocked her off balance with his crazy suggestions. Unfortunately, when she entered her office five minutes later, Jake was seated at her desk. She so didn't need this right now. Stifling a groan, she plastered a smile on her face.
"Anything I can help you with, boss?"
"I just got a report there was a problem with the shooting range. Someone had apparently barricaded themselves in."
"Hardly barricaded." She shrugged and plonked herself in the chair opposite. "Declan wanted to shoot a gun. As part of my new be-nice-to-clients image I thought, why not?"
"And … ?"
"And … " She thought quickly. "And he'd never held a gun before so I thought he might be a little trigger happy. So in the interests of safety I locked the door."
He regarded her for a few seconds. "Nice try, but I'm not buying it."
What a surprise. "You're not? Any particular bit of it?"
"All of it."
There wasn't a lot she could say to that, so she stretched out her legs and examined her fingernails.
"What's going on between you and McCabe? And don't tell me nothing. You couldn't take your eyes off him in that meeting, and then afterward you lock yourself in the shooting range with him. And now, you look decidedly flushed and your shirt is inside out."
She glanced down. So it was. No getting anything past Jake. "We're having a thing."
"A thing?"
"You know a … thing. But you don't have to worry. It's not interfering with the job. I have everything organized."
"Maybe I'm not worried about the job. Maybe I'm worried about you."
"Sweet." Actually it was. "But as I said, I have everything under control."
"Why do I doubt that? Probably because you've never shown any interest in a client before. Hell, in anyone before. Have you any idea what you're doing?"
"Of course I do." Actually, she had no clue. But she was working it out slowly. Declan was obviously going through some sort of weird midlife crisis-being shot and almost blown up would do that to you-and had decided that she was the answer. He was totally deluded. "Actually, I'm doing what you told me to do and putting the past behind me."
His eyes narrowed. "Declan McCabe is your past?"
"My very, very distant past."
No way was she going to act as some sort of antidote just because Declan's perfect life suddenly didn't seem so perfect. Because he'd finally get over his little crisis and then he'd no doubt dump her like he had last time. Well, she wasn't going to give him the opportunity. From now on, she was keeping her distance.
She'd thought that she could have him, at least up until the trial, and then their lives would naturally go different ways. But if he was going to try and delude himself there could be more to this that just sex, then she had no choice.
He was an addiction and the only way to deal with addiction was a clean cut.
So no more sex with Declan.
…
Jess was wrong. He always got what he wanted.
But she wasn't wrong about everything. In fact she was spot-on with certain things. It was scary how clearly she saw him. It was true he'd never had to think about what he wanted before, because he'd always known exactly what he had to do. Except for that one glitch with Jess, he'd done everything his family had asked of him.
And look what that had gotten him.
He was bored. He admitted it-to himself at least. These days the job was all too easy. There was no challenge. And sometimes he felt as though he would explode if he had to sit through one more meeting.
But with Jess in his life, it didn't seem so bad. Except she was hardly in his life. He hadn't seen her over the weekend, and she hadn't answered his calls. She'd popped in briefly this morning to go over his schedule and then promptly vanished again. She was driving him to distraction.
She made him feel alive as he hadn't felt in years. Since he was eighteen in fact. And he wasn't ready to let that go yet. Was pretty sure he would never be ready. But she was fighting the obvious attraction.
He'd hurt her ten years ago when he'd walked away, but he hadn't realized how much. He'd believed her so young that she would get over it quickly. But she hadn't. A core of bitterness was wrapped around her heart, and she was running scared. He'd seen flashes of fear in her eyes when he'd suggested there might be more between them than sex.
She didn't trust him, and she didn't want more. Or at least that's what she was no doubt telling herself.