Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,156
off in all his I’m-in-charge, NFL-quarterback glory.
It took her thirty seconds to calm down, and another thirty to realize what she’d just done.
She asked the receptionist, “Where’s the ladies’ room, uh … Kristen?” A good assistant always remembered names. She’d barely pulled that one out. She was also lightheaded.
“There’s one in the hallway,” Kristen said. Jennifer recognized the expression on her face from eighteen years of Dyma. That was “Oh-my-god-I-can’t-believe-it! How awesome was that?” And probably something about the Tao.
She told Kristen, “The snow goose need not bathe to make itself white. Neither need you do anything but be yourself. That’s the Tao. I’m just getting in ahead of you.”
“Uh … okay,” Kristen said.
Jennifer said, “I’ll be right back. If Blake comes out again, I did not run off in tears. I went to the ladies’ room for a minute, and I’ll be right back.”
Harlan was at the gym, working out with the amputees, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He finished his set of chest presses, then sat up and pulled out the phone.
“Hey,” Julio Vega said. “If you’re not going to work out, bounce.”
Harlan said, “I’m going. Keep your shirt on.”
“Yeah,” Julio said, sliding into place a little awkwardly, since his prosthetic leg was still new. “Some of us got a schedule, man. Some of us got to get jacked. Can’t impress the ladies without definition.”
Harlan wasn’t listening. The call had been from Jennifer, and she hadn’t left a message. He was pressing the redial button even as the thoughts flew through his head like startled birds.
She should be at work already, starting the first day of her new job. She’d never call him at a time like that. Not Jennifer. So, what? Her car had broken down? She’d had an accident?
No answer. Voicemail. He called again with the same result, then a third time, his heart pounding now.
Pick up, he thought. Pick UP.
“Hey, ’mano,” Julio said, finishing his set. “You OK?”
Harlan barely heard him. Jennifer’s real-live voice had finally come on the line, saying, “Geez, Harlan, I was going to the bathroom.”
He laughed. He also got a little weak in the knees. Relief would do that to you. “Yep,” he said. “It’s you, and the kidnappers don’t have you, either.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. I was a little worried. Not like you to call me, not once you’d got there. Not Miss Nose-to-the-Grindstone.” Might as well work on the leg press while he talked, he decided, and moved over to do it, switching the call to his Bluetooth earbuds. “So what’s up?” he asked while he racked the weights a little higher, then seated himself and started working.
“Is this necklace some kind of BDSM thing?” she asked, and he just about let go of the weight stack.
“Uh …” He looked around. Julio looked back at him, eyebrow raised. “No. It’s edgy, that’s all. Got a little edge to it. Plus, you took the padlock off before you wore it.”
Now, Julio wasn’t the only one looking. Harlan didn’t care. “Why?” he asked. “Did somebody say something?”
“Yeah. Blake. Harlan, it didn’t cost twenty-five hundred dollars, did it?”
“Uh …” He couldn’t very well lie. All she had to do was look it up.
She said, “It’s sterling silver.” It was more of a wail. “And I’m an idiot. Look, I’m taking it off. Except then Blake wins. Also, he implied that my skirt was too short. It’s not any shorter than anybody else’s, I’ll bet. What, just because my knees are showing? You said I looked great! It’s Portland! The receptionist has blue hair and a pierced nose!”
“Baby,” he said. “Hang on.” She was practically hyperventilating. He wasn’t sure if she was mad or scared or … what. “You did look great. You do look great. And, yeah, you can look great and still look pregnant. You look classy, is what it is. He’s just not used to you being hot. And he’s out of line,” he decided to add. “I’m going to come over and tell him so. He doesn’t get to talk to you about your necklace and your hemline. Screw that.”
“Oh, boy,” she said. “He just walked in. Hang on.” He heard her say, “Blake. It’s the ladies’ room. There’s a reason they call it that. It’s for women.”
“I wanted to talk to you in private,” Harlan heard Blake say.
He said, “Jennifer.” Then he shouted it. “Jennifer.”
“I have to go,” she said.
“No, you don’t. Put him on. I need to talk to him. Now.”