The Beast (Black Dagger Brotherhood #14) - J. R. Ward Page 0,142

platter with a cloche was placed in front of him.

“Wassup, Hollywood?” someone said. “Our food not good enough for you?”

“Yo, Rhage, you get your own cow or something?”

“I thought you were on Jenny Craig,” another voice called out.

“I think he’s eating Jenny Craig—and that shit is just wrong. Humans are not food.”

He gave everyone the middles, and popped the lid—

“Oh, come on!” he barked as laughter exploded in the air. “Seriously? You guys are serious. Really.”

A snorkel and a diving mask had been arranged with care on a porcelain platter, little sprigs of parsley and lemon wedges tucked in around the edges.

Mary started laughing, and the only thing that saved his brothers was that she threw her arms around his meatheaded neck and kissed him.

“That’s a good one,” she said against his mouth. “Come on, you know it is.”

“You flood one goddamn bathroom, and suddenly, it’s a theme—”

“Shh, just kiss me, okay?”

He was still grumbling, but he did what his shellan told him to. It was either that or ruin his appetite … by commiting murder.

FORTY-EIGHT

“You realize that he’s married.”

It was around midday that Jo jumped in her receptionist chair and frowned. Bryant was leaning on the counter over her desk, his face dead serious, his bow tie so perfectly done, it looked like it was a sculpted piece of plastic rather than anything made from silk.

“What are you talking about?” She handed him a file. “And this is for your one-thirty.”

“Bill. He’s married.”

“What are you—excuse me?”

“Look.” Bryant made a show of running his manicure around the edges of the legal-size folder. “I saw you, okay. At a stoplight. You were in his car. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

For the first time in recorded history, Jo sat back and really looked at the guy. Funny, his aura was actually a good eraser of some minor flaws that she’d missed before: His eyes were a little too close together; his upper lip had a curious overhang; that nose had a bump at the end.

“I’m only worried about you,” he concluded. Like an older brother.

Jo crossed her arms over her chest. Come to think of it, his voice had a reedy quality that was kind of grating.

“Hello?” he prompted. As if he’d banked on a specific reaction and was determined to get it. “Jo. Did you hear what I said?”

It was definitely time to move on, she decided. Polish up her résumé. Get on Monster and the CCJ website. Do something else.

She had spent a good year and a half mooning over this narcissist, living off of a wink or an implication from him, bending over backward to make his professional and personal lives run smoothly—and, ultimately, checking her libido at the door because this one-sided sexual tension with a jerk was a safer bet than trying to find a real guy of her own.

“I’m giving you my two weeks’ notice.”

“What.”

“You heard me.”

“Wait, are you crazy? You’re quitting because I tell you your boyfriend has a wife? When you already knew it? The closing was here in this office. You met her—”

“It’s got nothing to do with Bill. He and I are working on a story together.” Okay, that was a stretch. “I just need more than you can give me.”

“Is this about the real estate exam? Fine, if you insist on taking it—”

“It’s really not anything like that.” She glanced at her computer. “And it’s noon, so I’m taking lunch.”

With quick work on the office phone, she routed the main number to voice mail, picked up her purse from the floor, and walked around the partition. Bryant moved into her path like he wanted to argue, but she just shook her head.

“You’d better start looking for a new receptionist if you want me to have any time to train her.”

“Jo. You are acting in a really unprofessional way.”

Dropping her voice, she said, “You have me lie to the women you’re dating so they don’t find out what a douche bag you are. I pick up your dry cleaning. Make your haircut appointments. I’ve taken your car in to be serviced how many times? And don’t get me started on your condominium association’s complaints for your noise violations, your pool boy, your HVAC issues and the bug man. All of that is unprofessional. But don’t worry. You’ll find yourself another sucker. Men like you always do. It’s just not going to be me anymore.”

Jo walked out the glass doors and into the October sun—which was too weak to move