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"He managed to piss off everyone on set by insisting they all listen to Nietzsche on audio the whole day," Calvin informed me, smirking. "Nothing people like more than hearing a German philosopher spouting off about perspectivism for hours."

Apparently, Reagan was right about that kid. I wasn't sure I knew many adults who knew who Nietzsche was, let alone could pronounce his name correctly, and touch on his philosophies.

"Are you here to check in on the campaign?" Krissy asked, eyes keen. "Or just to see Reagan? I don't think she was expecting you."

"She wasn't. I got out of my usual work early." More like I walked out without saying a word. "Figured I would drop in to see how things were going."

"Oh, is that all?" Krissy asked, lips twitching. "Well, you picked a bad time. Reagan ran out. She should be back soon though. Why don't you wait in her office?" she suggested, jerking her chin over to it.

I didn't know why she wanted to hide me away. But I figured catching Reagan by surprise might be a good course of action.

I moved into her office, walking casually around, looking at the peaches piled in a bowl, wondering if that was where her scent came from. Not a perfume, just eating too many peaches, absentmindedly touching her neck or hair before washing her hands. Somehow, that made the scent even more appealing.

Without her there to see me snooping, I picked up the picture she had been looking at the first time I had visited. With the picture of a guy I had felt pangs of jealousy over at first. Her model brother. Who the woman was, I didn't know. Maybe a best friend she left behind in California.

I found I wanted to know why she had left that whole life behind. Why she would choose to settle down in Jersey with its cold winters and overcrowded summers, with its beaches covered in New Yorkers trying to escape the concrete jungle for a weekend.

I also found myself wanting to tell her why we had settled in Navesink Bank. What we had all been doing before then.

She'd been surprisingly receptive toward the fact that the Mallick family were loansharks. I imagined she would be able to accept my siblings' and my past.

I lowered myself down in her chair, watching the door, wondering if I was out of my mind. Why was I going out of my way for this woman when I barely spared others a second thought? It made no sense.

But I decided that King was right. If she wasn't scared off by me yet, and if I found myself so interested, then maybe it was something worth looking into.

"Harvey," Reagan's voice rang through the other room, her heels clicking across the room, something rustling as she went. Bags, probably. "The next time you place such an asinine order, you have to go pick it up. You should have seen the looks those people were giving me. I'll be right back. I just want to kick out of these shoe--"

"Hey, babe," I greeted her, feeling my lips curving up at the shock on her face, the way it made her eyes go round, made her lips part.

She was wearing another pair of those high waist slacks, this time in a bright royal blue color, paired again with another white top. But this one teased at playfulness with a short hem that showed off a sliver of stomach under her breasts. Just a couple inches. That would be all it would take to expose her to me, to take her nipple into my mouth, to her my name sigh out of her mouth as my teeth sank in.

Fuck.

I needed to focus.

"Nixon," she said, sucking in a breath. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to proof Harvey's headshots," I told her in a loud enough voice to be heard by the eavesdropping Krissy.

Seeming to sense my reason, Reagan walked closer, came toward the desk, but stopped when she was at the side of it.

I wondered if she placed the distance there because she genuinely wanted it, or because she didn't trust herself close to me any more than I trusted myself close to her.

"The real reason," she told me, voice low.

"I don't have a passable answer for that," I admitted, shrugging.

"And yet I am supposed to accept that?" she shot back, brow raising, but her dark eyes were dancing.

"I told your staff I was here to proof the headshots," I told her, side-stepping her question.

"I gave your idea some thought. I figured it was worth a try."

"I hope it shakes out for you," I told her, meaning it.

"Harvey is dragging his feet, kicking and screaming the whole way, but I think there is a small part of him that is actually enjoying it. He would never admit it, but it's the truth. We are doing a commercial in a week. Marley and Calvin actually worked together to come up with the script. It's surprisingly hilarious in a very self-aware sort of way."

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