“You know the likelihood of that happening is next to none.” Jake leaned in. “Buddy, you have to learn to protect yourself.”
“And you have to learn that not every woman is Jennifer.” There. He’d said it. The name dropped like a lodestone between them. Adam could practically feel the room’s temperature drop.
Jake turned on his heels. “I’m heading out. I’m going to the club tonight. Are you coming with me?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, simply left Adam standing there wondering if Jennifer Kelly was going to haunt them forever.
Chapter Two
Serena forced herself not to run out of the office. Tears blurred her eyes as she rushed past the pregnant receptionist. The woman had been very kind. There was something about Grace Taggart that made Serena want to confide in her.
Unfortunately, Grace wasn’t an investigator, and the men of the company didn’t want to have anything to do with her case. Maybe she needed to find a female private investigator. She would feel more comfortable. And she probably wouldn’t make an idiot of herself by drooling over a female PI.
She should never have come. It had been a stupid idea.
“What happened? We expected you to take a little longer.” Chris stood in the middle of the elegantly decorated hallway with a cup of coffee in his hand.
“They were assholes, weren’t they?” Bridget asked. She had a diet soda. She was almost never without a diet soda. She pointed a finger at Chris. “I told you. No one takes this shit seriously. I’m buying a gun.”
Chris’s light blue eyes went wide. “Oh, no you’re not, sweetness. You would have one hormonal day and the lives of anyone who annoyed you would be over. As a person who annoys you on a regular basis, I claim the right to live.”
Serena ignored her best friends’ banter and strode to the elevator. She pressed the button, praying it would get here soon and she could put this whole thing behind her.
She had no illusions that they would actually take her case. She’d seen it in Jake Dean’s dark eyes. He didn’t believe her any more than the police had. The police had actually asked if she was making it up as a publicity stunt. At least the investigators at McKay-Taggart had been more polite.
She would have to tell the freaking press for that ploy to work. She’d done her best to keep it quiet. And besides, she wasn’t big enough to make the news. Given the nature of her work, she likely would be told by everyone that she had asked for it.
It was brutally unfair, but she’d be judged and sentenced and no one would even have read what she wrote. They would take one look at the covers and call her work smut. She’d seen it time and time again.
“Honey, I’m sorry.” Chris’s arm slid around her shoulder. He leaned over and kissed her forehead.
Her gay husband had proven so much more loving and affectionate than her real husband. She leaned into him, grateful for his strength.
“I want to know what happened in there. Do I need to go talk to someone?” Bridget asked.
Bridget was the sister she’d never had. The scourge of lazy retail clerks, snooty waiters, and bad drivers everywhere, Bridget was always the first one to kick a little ass.
Serena doubted Bridget could handle Jake Dean. Adam Miles was another story.
“No. It just didn’t work out. It’s not a big deal.” She brushed away a stray tear as the elevator opened. “None of this is a big deal.”
It couldn’t be. It was someone’s idea of a sick joke, and when she refused to respond, they would give up. Nothing physical had happened. She would be fine.
Chris followed her into the elevator, a frown on his handsome face. Chris Roberts was six feet two with a crown of blond hair and an angelic face. It was a crime to women everywhere that he preferred men. “It’s not nothing. I’m moving in.”
She had to avoid that at all costs. “No, you’re not. You just moved in with Jeremy. You can’t leave him. You’re happy. And before you say anything, you’re not coming over, either. Your boyfriend already hates my guts, Bridge.”
“Only because he’s an asshole.” Bridget’s pretty face screwed up in a look of pain. “I don’t know why I’m still with him.”
Because she’d been with him so long she wasn’t sure how to not be with him. Serena knew the feeling. She was over her ex in every way imaginable, and yet she still woke up at night feeling alone. It couldn’t help that Bridget had watched how amazing Serena’s dating life was. Nonexistent. Nothing. A big fat zero. She had no time to even think about dating. She only had her work.
The door to the elevator opened, and she walked out, forcing her feet to move. She let her friends lead her to Bridget’s Nissan, and she snapped her seatbelt on like a zombie. They started talking, but she felt far away.
She hadn’t loved Doyle in a long time. She kind of actively hated him now. Their marriage had been over forever and yet the man could still make her feel like she was nothing.
And so could Jake Dean. When she’d first walked into his office, she’d felt an instant connection to the man. His eyes had been warm, and she’d sized him up immediately. She did that a lot. She’d seen big, strong Jake and immediately started building a character around him. And then he’d shoved her at Adam, and her brain had gone on overload.
Two gorgeous men. Partners. Jake would be the deadly predator and Adam the tender warrior. They would function as a team, as halves of a whole. They just needed the right heroine to bring them both to life.
Yeah, that was going to happen.
You’re sick, Serena. You’re perverted. It’s just wrong what you wrote. It would be wrong if you wanted one man to tie you up and spank you, but no, Serena Brooks has to go for two. I never would have married you if I had known just how depraved you are. No smart man is going to want a woman like you.
She still could hear her husband’s words as he’d blown up six years of marriage. She’d made the horrible mistake of showing him one of her stories. She’d written in private for so long. But he’d utterly rejected her when he’d read one of her books. She’d supported him as he’d tried to write, but he’d dumped her because her work wasn’t intellectual. Because her work was embarrassing.
Of course, once he’d figured out how much money she was making, the asshole had changed his tune.