When he slid the phone back to me on the table, I asked, “So…you said checking out each other’s photos would tell us a lot about the other person. What did my photos tell you about me?”
“Family oriented, brokenhearted, and a little bit of a nutjob.”
I wanted to be offended at that last part, but it was hard when he was completely on point. Although I wasn’t going to admit he was right. Instead, I reached for his cell.
“Password?”
He smirked. “Suck.”
“Get out of here. You just changed yours.”
He shook his head. “Nope. It’s one of my favorite words for a multitude of reasons. You suck is grumbled under my breath at people at least once a day. And, of course, who doesn’t love a good suck?”
“You’re a perv.”
“Says the woman whose password is fuck.”
“I made my password fuck because I could never remember what my password was, and every time I entered the wrong one, I would grumble fuck. Baldwin suggested I just make it fuck the last time I was locked out of my own phone.”
“Baldwin?”
Our eyes caught. “The guy in the photo.”
Drew nodded.
For some reason, talking about Baldwin to Drew made me feel uncomfortable, so I changed the subject. Typing suck into his iPhone, I said, “Let’s see what I learn about you, counselor.”
Drew clasped his hands behind his head and sat back in his chair, watching me. “Have at it.”
I found the photos icon and opened it. Seeing nothing, I went to the camera app and opened it. Nothing was there either.
“You have no photos? I thought this was an exercise to learn about each other.”
“It was.”
“And what exactly did I just learn about you with a camera full of nothing?”
“You learned I don’t play fair.”
Chapter 6
Drew
What an ass.
Me. Not the shapely one I was just caught staring at. Although…what an ass.
Emerie had been leaning over the reception desk to reach for my ringing office phone when she caught me leering at her succulent rear end. The polite thing would have been to look away, pretend I wasn’t checking her out. But what did I do? I winked.
Again. What an ass.
And now, Emerie stared at me as she continued to talk on the phone. Things went one of two ways when a woman caught you red-handed ogling her. She flirted back, or…
Emerie hung up the phone and walked down the hall toward me with purpose. Her face was impassive, so I wasn’t sure what to expect.
She stopped at the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest. “Were you just checking out my ass?”
So this was heading the other way, where the object of the ogle calls you out on your shit. I mimicked her stance, folding my arms across my chest, too.
“Do you want me to lie?”
“No.”
“It’s a great ass.”
Her cheeks flushed. “You’re an ass, you know that?”
“Then I must be a great ass. Because it takes one to know one.”
Her stoic face cracked, and she laughed. I liked that she was more amused than annoyed. “Do women tend to find your behavior attractive?”
I shrugged. “I’m handsome and rich. Women tend to find that attractive. You’d be surprised how much I can get away with.”
“You are so full of yourself.”
“Maybe, but it’s true.” I came out from where I’d been standing behind my desk, leaving only about a foot or two between us. “Tell the truth. If I was short, bald, broke, and toothless with a hump on my back, you’d have told me off after catching me looking at your ass.”
Her mouth opened, and she looked adorable trying to come up with a retort even though her face had already told me I was right.
“You’re an egomaniac.”
“Maybe. But an attractive one.”
Emerie rolled her eyes and huffed, but I caught a slight smirk on her face right before her hips sashayed out of my office.
What an ass.
The rest of the afternoon, I was tied up on the phone. Even though I’d cleared my calendar of office consults until next week, word had gotten out that I was back, and all of my miserable clients wanted to update me on their spouses’ latest maneuvers. I worked in an ugly-ass business, but I was damn good at my job. Revenge was what they wanted, and every time I dealt a blow to a wife who deserved it, I mentally got even with my own ex, Alexa, all over again. I probably needed a therapist, but vicarious revenge was cheaper and far more satisfying.
I’d just hung up with a client who wanted a restraining order to keep his estranged wife from burning his porn stash when I overheard Emerie talking on the phone from the reception area. The empty office space carried her voice, and I couldn’t help but listen.
“Queens? That’s the closest you can get me to midtown for under fifteen hundred a month? What if I went smaller? No reception area, just a simple office in a building somewhere?” She paused for a minute. “What’s so funny? Yes, I did think you were quoting me space where more than one person can fit.” Another pause. “No, I’m not from New York. But…but…You know what? Forget it. I’ll call another agent.”