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Utterly confused, Tessa leaned to the side to look past Jamie to the hallway beyond. “Am I being Punk’d? I thought that show was canceled a long time ago.”
“Damn it!” he shouted. Tessa jumped an inch out of her chair when his fist thumped her desk.
“Sheesh. Calm down.”
“I won’t calm down. He’s not someone you should be hanging out with, much less dating.”
“Oh, really? Who is? A priest? Luke’s a friend of yours. If he’s good enough for you to hang around with, why not me?”
“Because I’m not a woman.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. Her brothers didn’t like her hanging out with any male over twelve and under eighty. “We just went out for dinner. We didn’t participate in a Roman orgy, I swear.”
Jamie’s face flamed red immediately. “Tessa!”
Sometimes she felt she was living in the middle of a Jane Austen novel. “I like him, all right? Just leave it alone.”
He crossed his arms. “I like him, too. He’s a great guy. How else would he have gotten so much action in college?”
“Oh, really? As much as you?”
He raised an eyebrow in silent acknowledgment.
Tessa cleared her throat. “That was in college.”
“Sure it was. And his current nickname is Magnet.”
“Magnet?”
“Yes,” he bit out. “As in Babe Magnet. I heard one of the other cops call him that when he wasn’t listening.”
Tessa tried not to smile. She could understand the reputation. The man had a lethal attraction.
“And,” Jamie continued, pointing his finger at her, “have you not noticed the fact that his partner is currently pregnant up to her damned ears?”
“So?”
“So, the kid is his, Tessa. Jesus. Pay attention.”
She felt all the air leave her body in a whoosh, and it took all of her little-sister outrage with it. “What?”
“He knocked up his partner, and now he’s letting her swing in the breeze.”
“How do you know that?”
Jamie spread his arms out in her small office. “I’m a bartender, Tessa. I hear things.”
“So…” Tessa’s mind flailed. That was why he’d been so awkward when he’d talked about his partner. “So maybe she’s the one who wants him to keep his distance.”
“I don’t give a damn what the reason is. His life is all fucked-up, and you don’t need any part of that.”
“Like my life is so un-fucked-up right now?”
“Watch your language,” he muttered.
Tessa closed her eyes and tried to call up the patience of a nineteenth-century noblewoman.
“And,” Jamie continued in a lower tone, “it’s my life that’s messed up, not yours. By the way, what the hell did you post on Twitter last night?”
