My laugh is faint and semi-hysterical. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
He jerks his head to one side. “Come in my office. I’ll get us some coffee.”
Coffee, ha ha. Maybe that’s not such a good idea. The last time I had coffee with a man, I went insane and turned into a giant, pulsing clitoris.
I rise, walk unsteadily into his office, and sink into the nearest chair. Hank returns in a few minutes with two Styrofoam cups and hands me one. Then he sits behind his big mahogany desk and looks at me.
“So. Give it to me. Who, what, when, where, and why?”
I laugh despite myself. He’s such a reporter. Taking a sip of bitter coffee to buy a moment, I look at all the framed awards hanging on the wall behind his desk. The office is small but comfortable, decorated all in beiges and creams. Conspicuously absent are any photos of family.
I say, “Do you ever regret not having children?”
His brows shoot up. “The question assumes I’ve ever met a woman I wanted to have children with.”
Embarrassed, I look down at the ugly white cup in my hands. “I’m sorry. That was rude. It’s none of my business.”
After a moment of silence, Hank says, “I’ll answer it in a sec, but first I want to point out that this is a momentous occasion.”
I glance up at him from under my brows.
He smiles, dimples flashing in both cheeks. “In the five years since you became my assistant, today’s the first time you’ve ever asked me a personal question.”
“It’s not because I don’t care.”
“I know.” His voice gentles. “It’s because you don’t want any personal questions asked in return.”
Oh god. I’m that obvious?
His tone turns brisk. “Anyway. To answer your question, no. I don’t regret not having children. They absolutely terrify me.”
That makes me laugh. “Kids scare you?”
“Their sole purpose is to grow up and replace us. We’re breeding our replacements. Have you ever thought of that?”
“You’ve been watching too many alien movies.”
“My sister has six of the little monsters. Six.” He shudders. “Visiting her house is like descending into Dante’s seventh circle of hell. Half a dozen violent, miniature tyrants going around smashing things and screaming like a bunch of Vikings on crack. It’s total chaos. She’s forty-two but she looks a hundred and two. If I hadn’t gotten a vasectomy in my twenties, watching her raise those future criminals would’ve definitely sent me running to the doctor.”
I feel a cold pang of panic. “Do you think people can be born bad? Like they come out that way, pre-programmed, and no matter how they try to be good, they’ll always be rotten?”
He cocks his head, frowning at me. “No. I’m being hyperbolic. My sister is a very good mother. Her kids will turn out fine. What are you really asking?”
I look down at the cup in my hands, horrified to discover it’s blurry. My eyes are watering. I clear my throat and blow out a hard breath. What the hell. Just say it. You’ve got nothing to lose.
“I’m asking for advice.” When Hank doesn’t say anything, I glance up at him. “I need a man’s opinion. An older man. Someone smart. Worldly. Like you.”
“Okay. That’s flattering, thank you. But couldn’t you ask your father?”
“We’re not close. Actually, we haven’t spoken in years.”
He digests that information for a moment. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. He’s a bad guy. The kind of bad that’s malignant, like cancer.”
I can tell by his expression that he’s dying to sit forward in his chair and interrogate me, because that’s his instinct. His reporter’s instinct kicking in, the way a dog’s instinct to chase kicks in when it spots a squirrel. But he restrains himself and simply nods, indicating he’s listening.
“I met a man.” I stop and take another breath.
“Go on.”
I look down again. This is way too hard. “Um. He’s…” Beautiful. Complicated. Aggravating. Interesting. A king among criminals. Sexy beyond compare. “I can’t decide if I like him or I hate him. I mean, I should hate him. He’s everything I shouldn’t want. But he’s also…unexpected. Intelligent. Fascinating.”
I close my eyes and think of Killian’s face. “He’s by far the most interesting man I’ve ever met. And—aside from my father—also the most dangerous.”
“Dangerous?”
I open my eyes to find Hank staring at me with lifted brows, his expression incredulous. “Like how dangerous? On a scale of driving while intoxicated to Darth Vader.”