me that he was leaving me to go to Ashley? I’d just moved to the head of the jerk class. Where was my dignity? When did I turn into the kind of person who shared? I am an idiot.
“You should get going,” I said, my tone blissfully even.
“Thanks for everything.”
“Not a problem.” I’d started to walk around the car when he spoke to me in a low, sexy tone of voice.
“We’ll pick this up again, Finley.”
By the time I got back home it was nearly ten and I was tired thanks to my middle-of-the-night escapades. I was followed inside by the memory of Liam’s brief kiss. Like so many of my past relationships—not that Liam and I had a relationship per se—I was wading into dark, swirling waters. Well, not wading so much as drowning.
“Why can’t I find a nice, uncomplicated man?” I muttered as I changed into my pj’s while the coffeemaker brewed a fresh pot. Maybe there were no complicated men, just complicated relationships. I was definitely no expert. With the exception of her twelve-year marriage to Jonathan Tanner, I’d spent my life with men flitting in and out of our world while my mother indulged her need for serial marriage. My sister seemed to have overcome the family curse, so what was wrong with me? Why was I always attracted to the wrong guy? Worse, even when I know the guy is wrong I still want him.
I gave the salad a fleeting glance before going to the pantry and grabbing the Lucky Charms. Lord knew I needed some hearts, stars, moons, and clovers about now. Box in one hand and mug in the other, I went to the sofa and reclined on the pillows so I could turn on the plasma television mounted on the wall. I set the box down long enough to pull my hair back in a ponytail, get up and grab my laptop, return to the sofa, and then settle in for some much-needed me time.
The television was a secondary distraction for the moment. I was looking forward to checking my eBay bid and surfing around for some more parts for my build-it-from-scratch Rolex project.
Yes! I was still in the running for the bezel. After about five minutes, I’d started to look at some watchband links when the newscaster’s voice cut through my concentration.
Liam’s photo from years ago filled all fifty-two inches of the screen.
“. . . Liam Rory McGarrity is being sought by the Palm Beach Sheriff’s Office in relation to a shooting in the Riviera Beach area of the county. Anyone with information on Liam Rory McGarrity should contact the sheriff’s department immediately. The public is being warned not to approach Mr. McGarrity but rather to call the number currently on your screen.”
God, please don’t let anyone be watching the early news.
No such luck. My iPhone belted out my Aretha Franklin ringtone. “Hello?”
“Want to tell me what the hell is going on?”
I cringed at Tony’s angry tone. “Going on with what?” Stall tactic number one.
“Don’t play me, Finley. I just caught the news. Why was Liam at your house last night?”
“Technically it was this morning, not last night.” Stall tactic number two.
“Goddammit! Stop screwing around.”
“I . . . um . . . think I need . . . Maybe I need an attorney.”
I heard him let out a long breath. “Meet me in my office in an hour.”
The line went dead. A lot like my career, I feared.
Finding the right outfit for a reaming was a challenge. I decided demure was the best course of action. I went with a gabardine sheath dress in a bold shade of cobalt with an asymmetricalneckline and V-shaped seaming in the back. I’d gotten the dress at the Vero Beach outlets for a fraction of its normal retail because the slender belt was missing. Replacing the belt was simple. I paired it with my brand-new Jimmy Choo Luna peep-toe platform pumps in nude.
Next I carefully reapplied my makeup, going a little heavy on the concealer since I was definitely sleep deprived. A quick run-through with a flat iron and I was as good as I was going to get. I
“You should get going,” I said, my tone blissfully even.
“Thanks for everything.”
“Not a problem.” I’d started to walk around the car when he spoke to me in a low, sexy tone of voice.
“We’ll pick this up again, Finley.”
By the time I got back home it was nearly ten and I was tired thanks to my middle-of-the-night escapades. I was followed inside by the memory of Liam’s brief kiss. Like so many of my past relationships—not that Liam and I had a relationship per se—I was wading into dark, swirling waters. Well, not wading so much as drowning.
“Why can’t I find a nice, uncomplicated man?” I muttered as I changed into my pj’s while the coffeemaker brewed a fresh pot. Maybe there were no complicated men, just complicated relationships. I was definitely no expert. With the exception of her twelve-year marriage to Jonathan Tanner, I’d spent my life with men flitting in and out of our world while my mother indulged her need for serial marriage. My sister seemed to have overcome the family curse, so what was wrong with me? Why was I always attracted to the wrong guy? Worse, even when I know the guy is wrong I still want him.
I gave the salad a fleeting glance before going to the pantry and grabbing the Lucky Charms. Lord knew I needed some hearts, stars, moons, and clovers about now. Box in one hand and mug in the other, I went to the sofa and reclined on the pillows so I could turn on the plasma television mounted on the wall. I set the box down long enough to pull my hair back in a ponytail, get up and grab my laptop, return to the sofa, and then settle in for some much-needed me time.
The television was a secondary distraction for the moment. I was looking forward to checking my eBay bid and surfing around for some more parts for my build-it-from-scratch Rolex project.
Yes! I was still in the running for the bezel. After about five minutes, I’d started to look at some watchband links when the newscaster’s voice cut through my concentration.
Liam’s photo from years ago filled all fifty-two inches of the screen.
“. . . Liam Rory McGarrity is being sought by the Palm Beach Sheriff’s Office in relation to a shooting in the Riviera Beach area of the county. Anyone with information on Liam Rory McGarrity should contact the sheriff’s department immediately. The public is being warned not to approach Mr. McGarrity but rather to call the number currently on your screen.”
God, please don’t let anyone be watching the early news.
No such luck. My iPhone belted out my Aretha Franklin ringtone. “Hello?”
“Want to tell me what the hell is going on?”
I cringed at Tony’s angry tone. “Going on with what?” Stall tactic number one.
“Don’t play me, Finley. I just caught the news. Why was Liam at your house last night?”
“Technically it was this morning, not last night.” Stall tactic number two.
“Goddammit! Stop screwing around.”
“I . . . um . . . think I need . . . Maybe I need an attorney.”
I heard him let out a long breath. “Meet me in my office in an hour.”
The line went dead. A lot like my career, I feared.
Finding the right outfit for a reaming was a challenge. I decided demure was the best course of action. I went with a gabardine sheath dress in a bold shade of cobalt with an asymmetricalneckline and V-shaped seaming in the back. I’d gotten the dress at the Vero Beach outlets for a fraction of its normal retail because the slender belt was missing. Replacing the belt was simple. I paired it with my brand-new Jimmy Choo Luna peep-toe platform pumps in nude.
Next I carefully reapplied my makeup, going a little heavy on the concealer since I was definitely sleep deprived. A quick run-through with a flat iron and I was as good as I was going to get. I
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