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“What?”
“You didn’t say anything about being married.”
“You didn’t ask. And, I figured Catherine already told you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn’t matter to me if she did. Just assumed that would’ve been a bit of info she’d warn you about ahead of time.”
I figured honesty would be the best policy between us. “She did.”
“What all did she say?”
I didn’t want to lie, and I didn’t want to put Catherine in an awkward position. “She said your story was yours to tell, so she just gave me a quick rundown. Divorced and received the news during the holidays. That’s it.”
“Hmm.” His response didn’t reassure me that he believed me.
“She also said you were a great guy. Glowing review, as a matter of fact. And that anyone Jackson vouched for was a winner in her book.” I peeked at him through my lashes. “So to speak.”
“Huh,” he said with a nod. “So she didn’t tell you about my injury?”
My face screwed up in confusion. “No,” I said with all honesty. “What injury?”
“We’ll get to that later. You had some preliminary questions you wanted to ask me.”
“Oh, right,” I said, circling back around before we got sidetracked. It seemed Tyler wasn’t unfamiliar with evasive tactics. I’d have to keep that in mind.
“First”—his face was deadpanned as he leaned forward, a conspirator’s quality to the glimmer in his fiercely blue eyes. “Lemme ask you something first, though.”
He did it again. Very effectively, I might add. But fair was fair. If he was willing to answer my questions, I should at least be willing to reciprocate. “Sure,” I conceded, knowing we’d get to mine sooner or later.
“Why didn’t you ask me your questions when I texted you the other day? And get them outta the way?” His voice was husky, haughty, and haunting.
“Mostly ‘cause I didn’t want you to think I was rude.”
“Hmm.” Even his voiceless sounds were sexy. “And would it be safe to assume you’re not worried about seeming rude right now? Face-to-face?”
“I wouldn’t say worried is the right word.” I smirked. “I can handle myself.”
“Then,”—he leaned forward onto the table with his arms crossed—“what would the correct word be?”
Fuck me. His voice was so sexy I wanted to scratch the itch I didn’t even know I had. His eyes were so fiercely blue in this light, and the way he was leaning toward me made me feel like he could see deep into my soul.
“I’m just intrigued. Genuinely. But I also want to make sure you’re not some weirdo.”
I wouldn’t lose my composure though. I’d been in tougher and trickier situations than this before. Not with a sex-on-a-stick man like Tyler Sanderson though.
His laughter was infectious. “All right, Marisa. Uh, ask away.”
“So, you’re not married.”
“Correct.”
“Are you currently involved with anyone? A girlfriend? Someone who might create drama.”
“Marisa, why would I ask you on a date if I had a girlfriend?”
I gave him theYou seriously have to ask me that question?look. It was similar to myDon’t bullshit melook.
He held up his hands in surrender, understanding without me having to say that this had indeed happened to me before. And it was true. But I also wanted to make sure I wasn’t out with some manwhore. No matter how much Catherine liked him, I didn’t put much trust into men. Not with what I’d witnessed at work or with how many people I’d arrested, detained, or had to question who were having affairs. Sometimes more than one at a time. Men and women alike.
“Gotcha,” he said. “No need to explain. But, just to reassure you. No. I do not have a girlfriend or anyone else who might create drama.”
