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“Steeple,” she said, warning him his teasing was growing old.
“Okay. Okay,” he said, laughing as he pushed back in his chair. “You ruin all my fun.”
He didn’t know how close he was to a raw nerve.
“What did you need me for?” she asked.
“I don’t need you, I… How close are you and Immie these days?”
“Imogen?” she asked. “Stratford? Imogen Stratford?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Because of her relationship with Lachlan?”
“Yeah, she was with your brother for years,” he said. “Do you hang out?”
She frowned. “Why? What’s going on?”
“Nothing…” He sealed his lips and puffed out his cheeks. “She’s got a wild theory about something… kind of in your field.”
“You want me to talk to her about it? What field are we talking?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
“If I ask Lach, will he tell me?” she asked, though it was kind of a hollow threat.
Given her recent life developments, and surprise connections, she was in no hurry to converse with her too-smart-for-his-own-good older brother.
“I don’t know. If I ask him about Daly, will he tell me what’s going on there?”
“You’re going to call my brother?” she asked not believing he would. “You’re not going to call him. What’s this about?”
“You know I think you’re great,” Steeple said, linking his fingers when he sat up to lay his forearms on the desk. “I’d print every word you ever wrote…”
“If this is about my article yesterday—”
“This is about you not following up on your exposé. You worked for months gaining the confidence of people in the Manzani network. The family, your insights… you know it got national recognition.” Yeah, and reignited Evander’s interest in her. Hence her residency at Stag. “You could’ve had a series of them. Could’ve gone deeper. With your connection to law enforcement and your penetration of organized crime… Why do I feel like you stopped listening?”
Because she wasn’t the one doing the penetrating last night. And damn if she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
He’d got up and left her the minute he climaxed. Connel. Ire. He’d gone into a closet and reappeared from what she thought was a bathroom, fully clothed, without so much as looking at her before returning to his office.
Not only would it have been rude to loiter, she also didn’t want to clash with whoever might come next. Ire McDade was a virile guy. He’d gone from the blondes to her to… whoever he next made a move on.
“Sersha, hello?” Steeple asked, waving at her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, fighting to push the flashbacks aside.
“I’ve gotta say, when I heard a McDade was following you around… Are they next? Are you switching your focus? Going deeper into McDade territory?”
Oh, way further than he knew. “I hear you,” she said, pouncing to the front of her seat then to her feet. “Let me think about it.”
“Ser—”
“I’ll do it right,” she said, “not for the sake of it. Let me make some calls.”
Wasn’t she supposed to be getting the Manzanis out of her life? Yeah, she could maybe write about the McDades, but who hadn’t? Since the trial and the testimony… It had died down. Maybe that was the right time to take a look at the family from a different perspective.
