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As unreasonable as it was, jealousy lanced through her. “You have a child with this woman?”
He threw her a scowl. “What, were you taking notes?”
“I couldn’t help overhearing.” That was true—sort of. “We don’t have a child together. Thank God.”
But he’d definitely referred to a baby…. “Why all the secrecy, Jonah?”
“It’s not secrecy. There’s just no reason to go into it. These days you and I have a professional relationship, remember?” he said with a facetious wink.
“Fine. Be that way.” Getting up, she went into the bathroom, but by the time she’d stepped out of the shower and brushed her teeth, curiosity had gotten the better of her again.
“I’ll trade you,” she offered, poking her head into the room.
He stood at the desk, shoving his wallet and change into his pockets, but at this he turned. “What are you talking about?”
“You answer one question of mine, and I’ll answer one question of yours.”
Evidently less interested than she’d expected him to be, he powered down his laptop. “What makes you think I have any questions?”
She should’ve dressed in the bathroom, but she’d been so preoccupied she hadn’t thought to bring any clothes in with her, so she pulled the towel she’d wrapped around her higher. “You cared for me so little that you’re not curious about anything that’s gone on in my life since we were together?”
Scowling, he glanced up; he’d been about to slide his computer into its case. “Do you really believe I didn’t care, Francesca?”
She smiled to hide the fact that she didn’t know what to believe. “That’s a question, isn’t it?”
Kneading his forehead, he blew out a sigh. “I know I shouldn’t get involved in this, but…it won’t be the first time I’ve done something I regret.”
“Then we have a deal?”
His obvious suspicion created a marked hesitancy. “What do you want to know?”
“How long were you married?”
“One year.”
“Only one year?”
“Thirteen months, to be exact.”
“How long ago?”
“Uh-uh-uh.” He wagged a finger at her. “That’s two questions. It’s my turn.”
Concealing her frustration with a shrug, she said, “Fine. Shoot.”
“Who’s the man standing with you in front of the Lincoln Memorial in that picture on your bar?”
“His name’s Roland Perenski.”
“I don’t care about his name,” he said with a grimace. “I want to know his significance to you.”
She arched her eyebrows. “Then you should’ve asked, because a second question is breaking the rules, as you’ve already pointed out.”
He came around the bed. “You cheated me on that answer.”
“No, I didn’t. I answered honestly.” But it wasn’t the answer he’d been after, and she knew it.
“Okay, one more question,” he said.
