“I have to care. I have a daughter. A business. A reputation?—”
“Built on fixing other people’s scandals.” I reach out, tuck a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe it’s time to stop worrying about optics and start worrying about what you actually want.”
She closes her eyes. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
When she opens her eyes, there’s something raw in them—fear, maybe. “I can’t afford distractions right now. My business, the investigation, Stella, Richard trying to use all this against me?—”
“And you think I’m a distraction.”
“I know you are.” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I thought if we just... If I could just get this out of my system?—”
“It didn’t work,” I finish softly.
“No.” The word is barely a whisper. “It didn’t.”
I cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. “Good.”
“That’s not good, Noah. It’s a problem.”
“Why? Because you don’t want to feel something for the guy who’s supposedly beneath you?”
She flinches. “I never said?—”
“You didn’t have to.” I drop my hand. “But here’s the thing, Alicia. I’m already breaking the professional code of conduct by getting involved with a client. If I’m going to risk my career—my reputation—I need to know it’s for someone who sees me as more than a convenient lay.”
Hurt flashes across her face. “That’s not fair.”
“You came down here with condoms and a plan. You took what you wanted. And the second it was over, you couldn’t get away fast enough.”
“That’s not—” She stops, jaw tight. “You’re oversimplifying.”
“Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you got what you needed and bolted.”
“I had to shower. Make dinner. Stella was coming home?—”
“Alicia.” I wait until she meets my eyes. “If you want this to be just sex, tell me now. I can handle that. What I can’t handle is you treating me like some dirty secret you need to wash off.” She flinches like I’ve struck her. For a long moment, she just stares at me, and I watch the careful walls crack. “It scares me,” she finally whispers. “This—you—all of it.”
The admission vibrates in the air, and I see her immediately regret it. But she doesn’t take it back.
“Why?” I ask quietly.
She wraps her arms around herself. “Because I don’t do this. I don’t sleep with men I barely know?—”
“You know me.”
“Do I?” She looks up, eyes searching mine. “What do you want, Noah? Long-term. What are you building toward?”
The question catches me off guard—because I don’t expect it from her. “What do you mean?”
“You’re thirty-one. You’re smart, driven, good at what you do. KOAN can’t be the endgame.”
“You’re right,” I finally say. “It’s not.”
“So what is?” The question surprises me—that she’s asking, that she’s thought about it. Most people see the job and assume that’s all there is. I lean back against the counter, choosing my words carefully. “You know why I left the Army?”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “I assumed standard end of enlistment.”