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I’ve got her. Of course I’ve got her. Sarah will pretty much do anything I ask of her, and I’m taking advantage of that right now. “Ski stuff, clothes.”
“Fine.” She stands. “I have an appointment at five in the city. I’ll head over after.”
Perfect. “An appointment for what?”
“None of your business.”
Which means she’s having something tweaked. Probably her lips. “Thanks. You still have the spare set of keys?”
“Yes.” She wanders past John, and he nods before going back to his hard drive. “By the way,” she says over her shoulder, not looking back. “If I revoke a member’s membership, don’t reinstate it without talking to me.”
I wilt slightly. “I gave her a couple of weeks. Give the woman a break.”
“Willyougive her a break?”
“What?”
“She’s only here for you, you fool. You’ve made your life more difficult and given her the wrong impression.”
She wouldn’t say that if she’d seen what happened Sunday night. “I can handle Coral,” I mutter, going back to my emails.
“Good. Handle her now. She’s in the bar.” The door closes.Fuck, fuck, fuck.And John’s laughing again.
“Fuck off,” I snap, earning a deadly glare. I can literally see the burn holes through his wraparounds.
“You’re a stupid motherfucker,” he rumbles, tossing the hard drive on the coffee table and rising to his full, intimidating height. I should be buttering him up, not pissing him off. Because I need a favor from him too. I give him my dazzling smile. “No,” he says, walking away. “Whatever it is, no.”
I’m out of my chair fast, going after him. “John, please.”
My beseeching tone halts him in his tracks, and he turns, looking over his glasses, giving me a rare peek of his eyes. “What the fuck have you done?” he asks, wary.
Good question. “I have someone coming at seven. I need you to handle it.”
“Who?”
“Ava O’Shea.”
He laughs. Then he stops abruptly. “No.” He takes the handle of the door, as I rummage through my mind for more pleas, anything to convince him to help me. I find nothing.Fuck it.
John comes to another sharp stop, his big body facing me. “Whatever you’re planning, unplan it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about her,” I admit, the frustration apparent in my words. “Fucking hell, John, she’s embedded in my brain, and I’m fucked if I can dig her out.”
He frowns, dropping his hold of the door handle. “Why have I got to handle it?”
I look away a little sheepishly. “Because she only agreed to come back if she can deal with you.”
“Why?”
“I may have come on a little strong.”
“How?”
Yeah, I’m not telling him that. I’m ashamed. “It doesn’t matter.” I shove my hands in my pockets, feeling the stress rising. “I just need you to escort her to the extension so she can measure whatever it is she needs to measure. And don’t let anyone talk to her.”
