When It Hooks You (It #1) (6 page)

The drinks arrived, and Adam took a long, slow sip. When he finished, he leaned back and let his eyes droop closed. “That was heaven.”

Trish pressed her lips together in a satisfied smile, not disturbing his quiet moment. The taut line of his mouth softened. She couldn’t quite hear it, but she swore he was humming along with the instrumental melody that floated in the background. To her, he looked elegantly aristocratic. Despite Adam Helms being a major client at her law firm, she knew very little about him. Unless one of the paralegals ever needed help drafting a letter or organizing his files, Trish wouldn’t be privy to any information except for the time of his appointments.

Her study of him ended when the waitress clinked their plates onto the table and he opened his eyes. While Trish busied herself with moving shrimp and a mussel to her plate, he lifted a palm to his forehead and wiped it all the way down his face.

“That bad, huh?” Trish asked.

“Isn’t it always?” He loosened the knot of his tie further, pulling it down another inch.

“Did whatever it was at least get straightened out by the end of the day?”

He ran his fingertips up and down the spine of his fork and sighed. “This gesture, this place, is lovely, so I hope it won’t come off as rude for me to say that I don’t want to talk about it. Not only have I been advised by legal counsel to keep quiet about certain aspects, I’ve spent all day dealing with it and am desperate for a mental break.”

Trish nodded. “That’s fine by me. To be honest, I find legalese pretty boring.”

“Yet you work at a law firm.”

“Getting to do the fun stuff, like making people feel welcome, keeping schedules straight and files organized.”

“That’s fun?” He looked over the cheeses and spread one onto a slice of gingered pear.

“I guess. But you know what? I don’t really feel like talking about my job, either.”

“What are we going to talk about, then?”

“Your suits.” She arched an eyebrow in challenge.

“You approve of the new color?”

“I do. I’m also wondering where you manage to get such an interesting palette.”

“I have poor fashion sense and complete faith in my tailor in Hong Kong. He makes it; I wear it.”

“You have a guy in Hong Kong?”

“In London, too. But he’s a bit more sedate in his choices.”

“So you travel a lot.”

Adam took another sip and nodded as he swallowed.

“Where did that tan come from last time you were in?” she asked.

“When was that?”

“Near the end of April.”

“Central America. Honduras and Guatemala.”

She wanted to ask what he’d been doing there, but figured that might enter into the business talk he wanted to avoid. “So, where’s home when you’re not jet-setting.”

His mouth tightened before he answered. “Maryland, I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

He shrugged. “I’m away more than I’m there, so I’m not really sure it can be called a home, anymore. How about you? Do you travel?”

“Not as often as I’d like to. I’ve been to both US coasts and to Germany on a family trip during high school. I went with friends on a vacation to Greece after college graduation. That’s it.”

“How long has Chicago been your home?”

“Forever. I grew up in the suburbs and have lived in the city since college.”

“How long have you been with River South Partners?”

“The same—since college, so five years.”

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“You take a decidedly longer term approach to work commitments than to romantic ones.”

Trish stopped mid-chew with her eyes slightly narrowed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s information from a conversation I wasn’t supposed to hear.”

She shook her head and swallowed. “It’s fine. I was just trying to recall exactly what you overheard.”

“I heard that you no longer go on fourth dates.”

“You’re an excellent eavesdropper…and rememberer.”

“I don’t often hear women put time limits on relationships, especially women too young to be so jaded.”

“I’m not jaded. I’m realistic about who I am.”

“And you’re someone who doesn’t want to be in a committed relationship?”

“I’m someone who doesn’t believe she’ll ever be lucky enough to meet another someone who’ll make her want to commit.”

He swirled the olive in what was left of his drink, pursing his lips.

“What?” Trish asked.

He lifted his eyes to her, pausing to take her in with a long, appraising gaze. “You sound jaded.”

“Am not!” She tossed her crumpled napkin at him. It bounced off his shirt and onto the floor. “I enjoy being single, and I’m going to stay that way until someone comes along to change my mind. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“Not at all.” He leaned over the arm of his chair to pick up the napkin, laying it on one of the empty plates as he settled back onto his chair.

“What’s your story?” Trish asked. “Do you have a girlfriend in one of those ports?” She’d noted he didn’t wear a wedding ring.

“My story is that I’m nobody to be laying judgment on anyone else’s approach to romantic relationships.”

“Aha! You have a girl in
every
port; is that it?”

“That’s not it.” His expression clouded, and he looked down at the table.

“You said I’m too young to be jaded about love. Aren’t you a little young to be so morose about it? How old are you, anyway?”

“Thirty-four. Which I agree is too young to be so morose.” He sighed, scrunching his mouth into a sad attempt at a smile. “But sometimes we have little control over these things.”

Asking about his life seemed to be a minefield. Trish took a gulp of her martini and switched the subject back to herself. “Tell the truth—you think my three-date plan is nuts, don’t you?”

“Nuts? No, not at all. I think it’s rather brilliant.” When Trish tilted her head and quirked a disbelieving eye, he continued. “I’m serious. What question do people always ask a couple that’s been together for a long enough time? ‘How did you meet?’ They may eventually inquire about the things beyond third dates, but that’s not what they’re most curious about. By limiting every romantic relationship to its tingling beginnings, you’re keeping the sweetest part and sloughing off the tedious, difficult, heartbreaking aftermath. Like I said, it’s genius.”

“You said brilliant, actually.”

“So I did.” His eyes stayed steadily on her as he lifted his glass to his lips.

Under his scrutiny, Trish showed an uncommon instance of shyness, dropping her gaze to the table. It wasn’t normal for her pulse rate to increase this much from just a look.

“There’s one element missing from your plan, though,” he said. “Assuming I heard correctly.”

“What’s that?” she asked, watching her fingertip circle the rim of her glass.

“Sex.”

Trish let out a shocked squeak as her eyes snapped up and onto him.

He flushed immediately. “I’m sorry. That was too bold.”

“No, no. I’m impressed. I’m usually pretty tough to embarrass, yet you’re shockingly good at doing it.”

“Since you’re smiling, I guess I’ll push my luck.” Eyeing her cautiously, he ventured forth. “Are you serious about not sleeping with any of the men you date?”

She nodded. “I know my hiatus won’t last forever, but I’m not interested in racking up a big number while I figure this out, so I consider myself revirginated for the foreseeable future. It’s freeing in a way. The decision’s automatically made for me, none of that nagging questioning: should we? Shouldn’t we?”

He pressed his mouth into a small smile, seeming pleased by whatever assessment he was making of her. Sitting back, he looked more relaxed than he had since emerging from the corporate wing.

Noticing his glass was already empty, Trish drained the rest of hers. “Have I successfully helped you unwind from your horrible day, Mr. Helms?”

“Yes, I believe you have.” He pulled out his phone and looked at it. “Now it looks like it’s time for me to turn into a pumpkin. Where’s our waitress?” He slid the phone back into his jacket and pulled out his wallet.

“Nope. This is on me.” Trish hopped off her chair, not giving him a chance to stop her from going to the bar to pay their tab. When she returned to the table, he was standing with his blue jacket back on and his hands in his pants pockets. He stuck out his elbow in invitation, and Trish accepted, looping her arm through. “Will you be back in Chicago anytime soon?” she asked as they moved toward the escalator.

“My business here is nearly wrapped up, but I’ll likely have to return next month.”

“Give me your phone,” Trish said, stepping next to him on the descending step. When Adam raised a skeptical eyebrow, she explained, “The way I figure it, we’ve got two dates left. I want to add my number to your contacts so you don’t have to send me smoke signals from behind the giant plant.” In case he wasn’t catching her drift, she added, “It’s probably best for me to be covert around the office about spending personal time with clients.”

He hesitated, but when they emerged onto solid flooring, he pulled out his phone, pressing the screen a few times before handing it to her. It was open to a blank contact form.

Chapter 6

T
HE
P
ROSPECT
O
F
A B
LIND
D
ATE
no longer carried the same level of anxiety it used to for Trish. As she and James stepped into the cramped entryway of the Turkish restaurant where they’d arranged to meet Cliff, she didn’t worry about how her side of the date would go. There were no long-term ramifications, either way. She was more interested in how Cliff and James would hit it off.

A beaded length of fabric shielded the rest of the restaurant from view. “Reservation for Walsh,” Trish said to the hostess.

The woman smiled. “The rest of your party has already arrived.” Holding back the curtain, she gestured them through.

Trish immediately spied Cliff as he half stood and waved. She tilted her head toward him. “There he is. He’s cute, right?” she whispered to James as they wove between the tables.

“Adorable,” James answered. “You sure do know my type.”

“Your verbal observations at the gym make it difficult not to.” She wasn’t sure whether Cliff had a type, but she couldn’t imagine he’d be disappointed in toned, six-foot-two James with his smooth, dark skin, beautiful smile, not to mention his abundance of personality. It wasn’t until they were at the table that her attention drifted to the person who Cliff thought would make a good match for her. Redhead.
Interesting
. Attractive.
Nice
. Female.
What the…?

Cliff and the girl sat next to each other on one side of the table. Trish supposed she should let James sit across from Cliff, but she instinctively stepped to that chair and let James pull it out for her. Her mind scrambled to identify any signals she might’ve given to her college friend to make him think she was gay.

She noticed her three companions looking at her, apparently waiting for introductions. The strain in her cheeks indicated her smile was blessedly still in place. “James, this is my friend Cliff.” The men shook hands, and James took his seat next to Trish.

“Nice to meet you, James,” Cliff said. “This is Abby. Abby, this is Trish.”

Trish was careful to not make her nod of greeting too inviting. She didn’t want to lead the girl on.

“I know Trish and Cliff’s story, but Abby, how do you know Cliff?” James asked.

“We went to high school together and sort of reconnected last weekend at an informal reunion,” Abby answered.

“
Re
connected?” Cliff said. “More like connected for the first time. Abby was little miss cheerleader slash homecoming queen—”

“Just the court!” Abby protested.

“Whatever,” Cliff continued. “I was the AV volunteer slash total dork who she never even noticed.”

“Lies, lies, lies.” Abby shook her head. Her delicate, pointed features reminded Trish of a fairy. “The more we talked the more we realized how much we have in common these days.” She reached over and gave Cliff a teasing pinch on his cheek.

“I’ll bet that was a fun discovery,” James said, sliding a conspiratorial wink at Trish.

Great, now he thinks he’s discovered something about me.
She wanted to set the trio straight on her sexual preferences, but considered how mortifying an abrupt announcement would be to Abby. She elected to continue polite conversation for the moment. When she got the opportunity, she’d claw out Cliffy’s eyes in private.

Why does he think I’m gay?
She pointed the conversation in the direction of a band she knew both James and Cliff liked. While the men compared notes on concerts they’d seen and favorite songs, she stayed silent and pondered the question. Cliff had seen Trish with boyfriend after boyfriend in college. Hell, he’d even kissed her himself. On a dare. The whole thing had been terribly awkward. They’d had an audience of gawking friends, and she’d very recently inhaled a gyro as big as her head. It had been impossible for her to perform at the top of her game with her breath reeking of garlic and onion. That must have been it—the stiff, awful kiss was why he thought she didn’t like men.

They ordered their meals, and while they ate, the conversation flowed smoothly. Yet every time Abby laughed a little too enthusiastically at one of Trish’s jokes or her eyes lingered for too long across the table, Trish’s nerves frazzled a bit more. As the entrées dwindled on their plates, Cliff excused himself to use the bathroom. Half a minute later, Trish left her remaining kebab to congeal and followed him.

Brushing past a lush tapestry curtain held to the side by a braided cord, she entered a narrow hallway. She positioned herself directly in front of the men’s room door, waiting for Cliff to come out. Within a few minutes, he emerged into the cramped space, nearly slamming into her.

“We have to talk,” Trish said.

“Here? Now?”

A woman stepped into the hallway, and Cliff moved toward the curtain to let her pass. Trish was afraid he’d go back into the main part of the restaurant. As soon as the woman squeezed past her, Trish grabbed his biceps and pressed closer to him, forcing his back to the wall. They were hidden from diners by the swag of fabric.