Page 22 of Challenge Me

“Yeah, I don’t want to date you either.” He wrinkled his nose as he looked me up and down. “You’re too put together.”

“I assure you, I’m not.”

“‘I assure you, I’m not,’” he repeated mockingly.

“Your plan is stupid. I’d rather accept the fallout than deal with whatever’s wrong with you.”

There was a smirk on his face when he lifted one shoulder. “Sorry you wasted a trip.”

“Good thing it’s only a few miles.”

His lips parted and his brows went up. “I thought you lived in Boston.”

“Of course not. Who wants to live there?”

“Guys who play for the Red Sox. Not cryptic, secretive guys, I guess.”

“You didn’t tell me much either. Like where you’re from.”

“Not important.”

“It is if you want to do this.”

Even as I said it, I wanted to take it back. He was right, though. I could let things simmer down on their own, which probably also meant allowing him to continue with the interview once I left, or I could take control of the narrative. Maybe it didn’t matter all that much, but I was pissed that my decisions had been taken from me.

Smear campaigns weren’t all that rare; I just never thought I’d be a target for one. It was part of why I’d been careful in planning how to go about revealing things in my life. It was why I’d refused to make comments about my divorce, and it was why I kept Mal out of the public eye as much as possible. The world was cruel. The press was crueler. Jaywalk once, and suddenly you were the poster boy for vehicular homicide.

Sure, I wouldn’t be ruined if I let Clara run with her ridiculous articles. But why should I?

“Damnit, I shouldn’t have offered,” Remi grumbled.

“What, now you don’t want to?”

“I did. But now you want to.”

“That’s ridiculously childish.”

He examined his nails with a contemplative expression. “Who says? You and your Maserati?”

“Definitely not you and your fake marble floors.”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t look up at me. “I liked you better after dark.”

“Believe me; the feeling is mutual.”

“Cool. Better get this shit over with.”

Before I could stop him, he flung open the door and left the office. I hurried after him, but he was already marching up to Clara. With her attention on both of us, I was right back where we’d started: no plan, no clue what was about to happen, and no positive thoughts about the whole thing.

“Mrs. Kessler, darling,” Remi drawled with more fake nicety than I’d ever been witness to. He took both of her hands, which made her nose wrinkle. “I’m so sorry to have to do this, but we’ll need to reschedule.”

Her eyes went behind him and locked with mine. I lifted a challenging brow as a bit of petty anger rose to the surface.

“Oh, that’s terrible news,” she returned with a similar artificiality. “There must be some emergency.”

“You could say that.” Remi let out a sigh, then played off his implied disappointment with an airy laugh. “I forgot about our date.” He nudged his chin in my direction. “He’s taking me somewhere really nice. Really expensive. I’m sure you understand that time with my man trumps this interview for now.”

“Your . . . man.”