“I just found out you know a friend of ours,” Hardin said.
“Oh?” He slung an arm along the back of the booth, his fingers brushing Sarah on the neck. “Who?”
“Samantha Smyth.”
His smile slipped a little, but I had to give it to him. He was as cool as a fucking cucumber.
“Excellent doctor.”
“Really?” Hardin asked, leaning forward so his arms rested on the table. He pushed Mark’s coffee mug out of the way.
“She said you’ve got issues about her performance you want to discuss.” He paused, then added, “Over dinner.”
Sarah suddenly looked uncomfortable.
“I’m sure she was mistaken,” Mark replied.
With that response, I had my answer. Holy fuck. Mark was a lying sack of shit. He’d done everything Sam had said.
Hardin pressed on. “So it was just a stethoscope in your pocket when you pressed up against her?”
Sarah squirmed, brushing Mark’s hand away. “I think… I think I need to go.”
Mark looked to her, sighed, but climbed from the booth to let her out. She scurried away without saying another word or offering a backward glance. The woman, as far as I was fucking concerned, had lucked out.
Mark sat back down, gave us his patented grin. “You two are total cockblockers.”
“You’ve got a thing for blondes,” Hardin commented, lifting his chin to indicate the way Sarah had fled.
He shrugged. “Every guy has a type.”
Yeah, mine was a curvy genius with glasses who had a thing for lingerie and sexy toys.
“Did you tell Sam about my past because you want her for yourself?” I asked.
Hardin remained quiet, kept his gaze on Mark.
A waitress came up, not Sarah. “Would you like menus or coffee?” she asked.
I looked up at her, smiled. “No, thanks. We’re not staying long.”
She nodded, then left.
Mark was dressed as if he belonged at the Cutthroat Country Club. Crisp pants, dress shirt, a fucking sweater. In a flannel, Hardin looked like he’d just come from cutting trees in the woods. I had on jeans and a black T-shirt. Definitely the bad boy of the bunch. But I didn’t fuck with women.
“Dr. Smyth is an impressionable woman,” Mark began. “You do know she finished medical school at twenty-two? She needs guidance, someone to show her the ropes.”
“And that’s you,” I said.
He shrugged. “She hasn’t said yes. Yet.”
Hardin stood, looked down at Mark. I slowly got to my feet, followed his lead. Clearly he’d gotten all the info he needed.
“Sam’s off-limits,” he stated plainly.
Mark looked from him to me. “Mac can’t speak for himself?”
“She’s not just Mac’s. She’s mine, too.”