Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Sinclair
“You look odd in that suit.”
A bark of laughter escapes Jameson as he glances over his shoulder to find me standing behind him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence on my wardrobe choice for the day.”
I hold in a smile. “What I meant to say is that it’s odd to see you in suits. I remember you best in jeans and T-shirts.”
He turns to face me, giving me the full view of him in a dark gray suit.
I misspoke.
He doesn’t look odd. He looks ghost pepper hot.
His hands jump to adjust the knot on his tie. “I remember you best in jeans and T-shirts too. It’s good to see you haven’t veered too far out of that lane.”
I tug on the bottom of the red T-shirt I’m wearing. “Comfort trumps fashion when I’m working from home.” I give my head a shake. “Or from my temporary home.”
He nods. “Right. Temporary home. Before long, we’ll be listing this place for sale.”
A part of me will mourn during that process because we will be letting go of an important part of Denia’s life.
“Speaking of that, we need to talk.” Jameson tosses his head back to look up at the ceiling. “We have a hell of a lot of rooms to clear out. We need to schedule some serious time to devote to that.”
I know he’s right, so I nod. “Do you have free time over the next few days, or do you have plans?”
He hesitates. “Plans?”
I narrow my eyes. “You know what plans are, right? It’s when you agree to meet someone or decide to go somewhere. It’s not a new concept, Jameson.”
“Sure.” He smirks. “No concrete plans. What about you?”
I rub my chin. “I’m busy on Saturday night. The rest of the time, I’m free.”
His top teeth edge over his bottom lip. “I can work with that.”
“Good.” A sense of relief flows through me. “There are a bunch of boxes in the closet of the room I’m staying in, so we can start there tonight.”
“All right.”
“All right,” I repeat his words back. “Are you leaving for work soon?”
He chuckles. “Why? Are you eager to get rid of me?”
I tug on the end of my ponytail as I rake him from head to toe again. I’ve had a question perched on the tip of my tongue all night. I need to ask it, or it will steal my focus all day.
“Did you see anything when you came into my room last night?” I step closer to where he’s standing in the main living area. “I know it was dark, but…”
I’m interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing.
I can’t blame that on Jameson since it’s my phone sounding off in my back pocket. I yank it out and glance at the screen. “It’s Keats.”
“Take the call,” Jameson says as he heads for the door of the penthouse. “Lock up after I leave.”
“I will,” I call after him.
By the time he’s out of the door, I’ve got my phone to my ear. “Hey, Keats.”
“Hey, stranger,” he teases. “In case you’re wondering, I’m still alive.”
Laughing, I start walking toward my bedroom. “I’m sorry I’ve been busy.”
“I heard.” The tone of his voice evens. “You moved in with Jameson.”
“Not willingly,” I say. “It’s complicated.”
“Meet me for lunch so you can explain it to me,” he pauses. “You name the place. I’ll cover the meal.”
“Noon at Crispy Biscuit.”
“I should have known you’d pick your favorite diner.” He chuckles. “I’ll be there. Bring your roomie if you want.”
Holding in a laugh, I sigh. “Hard pass. I’ll see you at noon, Keats.”
“I can’t wait,” he says. “I’ve missed you, kid.”
Lunch with my brother was just what I needed. Keats isn’t the nosy type, but he did have a handful of questions about my current living arrangement. I know that he got most of the details from Berk, so all I added was that I’m looking forward to the day I move back to my apartment.
Once we got that out of the way, we enjoyed our cheeseburgers and fries while my brother talked non-stop about his son.
Weber Morgan is the newest member of our family and has the rosiest cheeks. I can attest to that because Keats showed me at least thirty pictures of the little guy.
I snap the cover of my laptop shut when I hear the front door to the penthouse open.
I’ve been working since I got back from lunch.
Since my project with Brighton Beck is wrapping up, and I haven’t been assigned anything new, my focus is on a personal project that I plan on pitching to Berk once I have it fleshed out.
If he’s on board, that book has the potential to completely change the course of my career.
I don’t need prying eyes on it until I’m ready to share it with him.
“Sinclair!” Jameson’s deep voice echoes through the massive penthouse. “I’m home.”
I hold in a laugh because my dad used to call out those same two words when he arrived home from work every night when I was a kid. Often, my mom would still be at work, so I’d be the one who would race to greet him at the door.
I don’t put that much effort into welcoming Jameson home.
I slide from my bed to my feet. I’m still wearing the same jeans and T-shirt I had on when he saw me this morning.
“Sinclair!” he calls my name again. “Are you here?”
“I’m here,” I say loud enough that I know he’ll hear me. “I had a big lunch, so I’m skipping dinner tonight.”
“Like hell you are.” His voice is closer now. “I picked up some take-out. It’s that salad you used to polish off from the deli on Broadway.”
I close my eyes because that hits deep.
The last time I ate that salad was right before Jameson tossed his ‘let’s-get-fake-married’ plan at me two years ago. The salad didn’t sit well after he stormed away from me. I haven’t gone back to that deli since because the memory of that day has never faded.
“Sin?”
I pop open my eyes to see Jameson standing in the open doorway of my room. His tie is gone, and he’s unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. He somehow looks hotter than he did this morning.
“What?” I bark out.
He smirks. “Did I interrupt something?”
“No. Why?” I try to even my tone, but it’s an epic fail.
“You’re about to bite my head off.” He demonstrates that by tapping his upper and lower teeth together. “I caught you at a bad time, didn’t I?”
“No.” I motion for him to move out of my way. “Let’s eat so we can get down to business.”
“Works for me,” he says as I walk past him.
The scent of his cologne hits me, sending all of my senses into overdrive.
I don’t want my body to react to him the way it is. It can’t.
Jameson Sheppard is my enemy. Nothing he does, including smelling like sin and looking like every bad decision I want to make, will ever change that.