Finders Keepers

Chapter 4

“Hi, Taryn. Come on in.”

Olivia watched as the teen entered her small office and immediately sat down in the one extra chair meant for visitors. She noticed that the young girl, usually very confident, seemed a little skittish…and unsure.

“How’s Gaye?” Olivia asked to put Taryn at ease and focus her. She generally was happy to talk about her daughter.

“She’s okay,” Taryn mumbled, her leg bouncing quickly up and down with nervousness.

Olivia made a note. “Did you bring her in today?”

“No, ma’am. I left her with my mom. She loves taking care of Gaye, but most of the time I…you know…I want to keep her with me.”

“Well, you know we’re set up to babysit when needed. I just want to make sure you get to class and keep up with your work. You’re a senior, so you know how important this last year is. What’s up?”

Taryn finally met her gaze, straight on and with a level of anxiety Olivia had not seen since the previous year when the girl had confessed that she was pregnant. Taryn had done amazingly well during her pregnancy, attending classes until she couldn’t. But then was absent for several months after Gaye was born and ignored the inquiries to her mother and from Olivia about how the school might help her return to class. Nothing had worked until, just as the previous school year was coming to a close, Taryn had returned, more mature, focused, determined…and with a new daughter. She’d worked very hard to catch up and keep up. Olivia had used all of her means and authority to make sure the young new mom got encouragement, adding her own personal resources when needed to help Taryn out. But she’d learned quickly not to probe too much into the home situation or the circumstances surrounding her pregnancy…or the identity of her baby’s father.

“What can I do for you?” Olivia asked.

“I know I wasn’t on the list of who was going to that academy. But I want to go. I mean…I…I really want to be there.” Taryn got it out in a rush, her tone firm and assertive.

Olivia was taken aback by the demand and curious. She was well aware that none of the kids on the school list were interested in becoming police or FBI agents. But they were curious enough about getting a behind-the-scenes look at an organization that more often than not failed most of them that there was always the hope that one of them, or more, might be truly interested in what the organization might hold for them in the future.

“Why?” Olivia asked simply.

Taryn shrugged, gnawed her lip, perhaps not having thought she’d have to explain.

“I don’t know anything about the FBI and what they do. But I saw this movie about an agent and she was a girl. And she had this special assignment because she was smart. Well…I can do that. I’m smart too.”

“I agree, but the question is, do you really want to go into law enforcement? Are you seriously interested in, maybe, becoming a cop?”

“Why not? I work hard…”

“Yes, you do…”

“And I can learn. I can learn anything!”

“Again, I agree.” Olivia nodded. She studied Taryn’s posture, the intensity of her facial expressions. The leg bouncing had stopped. She braced her arms on her desk as she leaned across to address the young girl. “Okay. I’ll add your name to the list. You’ll have to have your mother sign a consent form…and you have to decide who will care for your daughter. You’ll be at the academy the whole day. Once you start, you have to finish the course. No leaving early. No complaining…”

Taryn’s expression changed instantly to relief and excitement, but she then pulled herself together to show the grown-up side she was obviously developing. “Yes, ma’am. I can do it. I can do all of that.”

“Okay then. It’s a go. You’re in.”

There was an uncharacteristic, elated, brief squeal from Taryn.

Olivia stood on the periphery of the twelve-student group selected for the special visit to the FBI field office. These were the students who’d maintained a high grade point average, had no discipline record of note, and knew how to listen. But just to keep a balance, she’d thrown in a few students who were walking the line between hopeful outcome and needing a lot more work. And there was Taryn, the only female student who’d shown genuine interest in the program.

What gratified Olivia was the seriousness with which the students participated in the daylong event. While she wasn’t sure if any of the sessions changed their minds about law enforcement, they had shown interest and, so far, seemed riveted by what they were to experience. She hoped it might be life-changing for some of them in terms of a career prospect. She’d already learned through a Google search and information that Sloan had sent her that the agency covered an astonishing number of crimes that fell under federal jurisdiction, including civil rights violations. One of the sessions was meaningfully about how the FBI covered and resolved hate crimes against, specifically, people of color, women, and LGBTQ+ citizens.

Olivia watched Colby, a shy, serious kid who often needed a little push into new experiences. He had a tendency to shrink into a group, not to be noticed, and she knew it was a cultivated technique to also avoid the overpowering influence of an aggressive older brother. Here, with only his curiosity to guide him, Colby predictably asked the most probing, complex questions. And so did Taryn.

Behind her, even farther in the background, was Agent Kendrick. Sloan. Just mentally saying his name gave Olivia a start, a roiling awareness combined with a jolt of excitement. It was mysterious but thrilling. In a moment of sheer intuitiveness, she felt that they were silently flirting with one another. He glanced at her; she met the gaze and returned it. It was breathtaking, making her feel, ridiculously, like someone not much older than her students.

Sloan had met the group at security, welcomed them, but never acknowledged that he’d met a few of them during his first visit to their school. He was not exactly friendly, but he was totally accessible to their comments and questions. And he was very cool with the ribbing he got because of his scratchy voice. Had some punk judo-chopped him to the throat during a fight? Had he swallowed a pit that remained lodged in his throat?

Sloan never became overly familiar with them. He was in charge, and they were on his turf. And he was wearing his gun. Olivia wondered if that was a deliberate display of power and authority or an agency requirement. She wondered if it was loaded, even though the safety catch was on and there was a protective cover on the hand grip, making it nearly impossible for anyone but Sloan to actually gain control of the weapon.

Olivia observed him as he introduced what the day would be like, also making it clear that this was a serious, working environment and, if they couldn’t obey the protocol, they would be asked to leave, a second invitation never to happen.

“Are we clear on the rules?”

“Yes” came the muted, respectful response.

Sloan walked them through some of the building, mostly those areas where they would be having lessons and demonstrations.

To the inevitable question, he added, “No, you will not be testing firearms.”

After that, the FBI instructor in each of the teaching areas took over and Sloan stepped out. Olivia found herself alone with him, very aware of his presence, more and more sensitive to his nearness. An interesting warmth seemed to emit from him. If she had to assign a description to it, she would say safety, protective, steady. Authoritative.

He was such a decidedly different kind of man than she’d ever met. Who was he, really? Why did he seem so very different to her as a man in nearly every respect?

They maintained small talk, but there seemed to be a kind of falseness to the levity. As if beneath the surface something else was definitely going on between them and this was not the place or the time to explore it. Bigger consideration…did she want to? Olivia was aware of a lot of covert glances. The tension between them made Olivia a little on edge. She wondered if there would come a time when she would know the reason for sure. And then what?

“Nice group,” Sloan commented, his tone low and gravelly just over her right shoulder.

That sensation again.

“I wasn’t expecting…what’s her name? Tara?”

“Taryn. I’m really surprised she was interested. In fact, she practically begged to be added to the list.”

“She’s a good addition,” Sloan said. “She’s making the boys step up in their game.”

“I’m not surprised. Taryn is one of the top students. And I was careful. I didn’t want to embarrass the school and myself or make it difficult for you.”

“I wasn’t concerned. I trust your judgment.”

“Does that mean I’m off the hook in your investigation?” she teased.

Sloan looked at her carefully, as if trying to decide how much to say. He was amused but under the circumstances kept it tamped down. “Not yet, but you’re close. I have only a few more areas to flesh out, but I expect to wrap my report any day now. You worry too much.”

“I have a lot of responsibility,” she murmured.

“So do I. But you know, at least what you do isn’t life-threatening.”

She thought about that, catching a quick glimpse of Colby bent over a table with the other students, studiously examining fingerprint samples. “Sometimes,” she said cryptically.

There was an hour’s break for lunch, and the kids loved that they could get whatever they wanted from the agency commissary. But they sat together, already exclaiming over what the morning had been like. Olivia thought it appropriate that she sit with them, but Sloan convinced her to let them be.

“They don’t need supervision for lunch,” he advised. “Let them talk among themselves. I think they’re more likely to share insights, ask questions. They’re going to be interrogated, so to speak, in the last session. It’s not helpful if any of them feel they know less than their classmates.”

She looked at Sloan, this time in admiration. He really did pay attention. He did consider consequences.

Sloan found a table some distance from the students but where she could still more or less keep an eye on them. She got chicken salad on a bed of lettuce and iced tea. Sloan settled for a sandwich and coffee.

“Sorry. No fortune cookies,” he said, biting into the multigrain bread.

“I wasn’t going to complain,” Olivia said, feeling somewhat giddy that there was just light banter between them now.

She was still at a point where she kept returning her gaze to him. Still trying to ferret out his personality and character. Still finding things about Sloan that, weirdly, made him so…appealing. But Olivia couldn’t help tempering her opinion with healthy caution.

She had very good reason to be careful despite her interest.

“If I haven’t already said so, I can’t thank you enough for allowing the kids to attend your academy.”

“You have said so a number of times. I expect I’ll probably also get an official letter on school stationery thanking me and the agency. No need for your students to submit individual notes with drawings.”

Olivia laughed, taken by his easy humor.

“In many ways the agency is well aware of its tenuous relationship to the communities where it has offices and personnel. This program is an outreach. It’s an open-arms approach: Come and check us out. Bring the kids. Get involved. It actually works but…”

“I think I know. There’s never any reporting of the good things you do, right? In New York City they’ve had a Police Athletic League department for more than half a century. I bet not more than ten people have even heard about the great work the officers do with kids in sports and mentoring. But it’s what happens to men, women, and, increasingly, children in the streets that’s the bigger news. People die, and families remember that.”

He silently regarded her as she spoke, unable to stay away from the political that she was more aware of than perhaps himself. Some of her students came from situations where it was all too real. Olivia suspected his awareness was still theoretical.

He said nothing in direct response to her comment.

“I’m glad I had a chance to see you again, in a different official capacity.”

The admission caught her off guard. It sounded almost personal. After a moment of thought, Olivia decided to go with her own train of thought.

“How would you feel about being a guest at our next quarterly Sports Saturday?”

“Still trying to thank me?”

She grimaced. “It’s work to get the students out of the school building and doing other things, like sports. If we sponsor, somehow they think of the games as just more schoolwork. The boys all believe they’ll make the NFL or ABA anyway, but right now I want them to get more physical exercise. It’s distracting and healthy, parents don’t worry about where they are, and they have fun. It’s a three-hour event with soccer, baseball or softball, touch football. Parents and siblings come. There’s a picnic.”

“You’re very proactive. What do you do on the weekends that’s just about you?”

“You asked me that before. Embarrassing but not much, I guess. Me and my girlfriends get together for lunch or dinner. We rotate who hosts. I’d like to also be a little more creative and active. There are so many things I’d like to try that don’t involve food or shopping.” His cough sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, his eyes bright. “I’d like to break the cycle of predictable girly stuff.”

“Let me know if I can be of any help. I think I’m pretty good at tactical diversion.”

Olivia considered his boast. Was he serious? “Maybe not so much with females? Unless you have different meaning for tactical diversion than I do.”

He didn’t laugh, but Olivia suspected he probably wanted to.

Sloan seemed thoughtful as he finished his lunch, and raised voices from the table where the students gathered indicated they were also done, their energy level indicating they were ready for the next activity. He regarded her as they stood and gathered the debris of lunch for disposal.

“Thank you for the invite to the sports thing.” He glanced at her but signaled for the students. “Can I bring someone with me?”

Olivia was surprised. He wanted to bring someone. “If you want to, sure.” They all left the lunchroom, Sloan advising the students on the afternoon program, the final for the day. Olivia trailed behind, not eavesdropping on the conversations but aware that some of the students sidled up to Sloan for asides with him, including Taryn. As always, Sloan was attentive. She noticed that Taryn seemed to have a lot to say or ask. And he said a lot in response.

While the students were closeted away in the darkroom of a photo lab, Olivia paced the hallway outside, when Sloan suddenly appeared right next to her again.

“Your kids seem to be really enjoying the activities.”

“Yes, they are,” she agreed, adding a smile.

Sloan regarded her. “Feel free to contact me if you want to do this again. It’s a successful program, and the agents here are really committed.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, pleased by his offer.

Sloan took a step back but reached to briefly squeeze her elbow. “I have to see to the rest of the afternoon. I’ll be back.” And he left.

She watched him retreat with a firm stride and little excess movement, very quiet. Olivia sighed when she was alone, agitated by the way she was feeling, impatient with an inability to control it. She absently rubbed where Sloan had touched her elbow, a light touch that nevertheless felt so personal. She spent the entire time alone mulling it over and finding no answer. When Sloan appeared again, he was holding a small stack of white nine-by-twelve envelopes with the FBI seal printed on the front. And he carried a plastic ziplock bag holding something she couldn’t identify. He walked by her toward another room, a conference space with comfortable swivel chairs around a rectangular table.

“Come with me,” he instructed her.

Olivia entered the room behind Sloan and watched as he efficiently set up the table with the envelopes and the bag that, when emptied, scattered lapel pins. In the hallway, the students’ voices could be heard again. The day was coming to a close. The last class was done, and they would be leaving to board a bus that was waiting to return them to the school grounds.

The kids entered the conference room still wound up with all they’d been through, clearly not having expected so much to take place. A few mentioned firm intentions to join the FBI when they were old enough.

“You need to have at least an undergraduate degree,” Sloan calmly reminded them.

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” one student voiced with conviction.

“No, you can’t,” another student challenged. “You can’t even pass gym.”

The students erupted in laughter.

Sloan once again took charge, stating he hoped they’d found the activities worthwhile. There was a chorus of enthusiastic yeahs. He congratulated them on finishing the academy…and graduating. And added that they should thank Ms. Cameron for coming up with the idea to attend the academy.

Catcalls and slang props were forthcoming for Olivia, some random woo-hoos combined with wrist rotations in the air. She stood near the door merely smiling at their praise. Sloan then called out their names, one at a time, to come up and receive their certificates of graduation from the teen academy. And they were given a lapel pin, a replica of an actual FBI pin with slight modifications so that it couldn’t be used unofficially for ID…or other purposes. They were not only surprised but impressed.

Olivia smiled a genuine thank-you this time for Sloan. No matter her confusion that he asked to bring someone to the Sports Saturday she’d invited him to attend. Who? He had been incredible the whole day, to all the students. To her.

She gathered her charges and maneuvered them toward the exit, pointing them to the waiting school bus. Olivia turned to say a final goodbye to Sloan and found him standing just out of and to the side of the main door. He gestured for her to come to him. She did.

“Did I forget something?” she inquired, frowning.

Sloan only responded with a lopsided grin. Then he boldly slipped two fingers into the V opening of her sweater. Olivia gasped and looked at his invading hand.

“What are you doing?” she managed. He didn’t respond.

Instead, the tiny needle from the back closure of a pin poked through the navy-blue fabric of her top. Olivia lifted her gaze to his, but Sloan was carefully watching what he was doing and firmly attached the top face of the lapel pin to the backing.

“Now it’s official,” Sloan murmured.

“Official? Did…did you just pin me?” she asked, uncertain.

“Ms. Cameron…we hardly know each other.” He feigned shock. It was outrageous that he could joke about it, but really, it was a clever response, and Olivia reluctantly gave him points for using humor in the moment.

“So it’s official? I’ve successfully completed your program…like my students?”

Sloan shook his head. “Not exactly. They did all the work. Your pin is a…a congratulations, if you like.”

“For what?”

“For not letting your skepticism and point of view about law enforcement, any law enforcement, deprive the kids of this opportunity. Well done.”

She stared at him. “Have I been that obvious?”

“Yes,” Sloan said simply. “You’re tough. But you’re fair. Email me the details of that sports event.”

With that, he waved to her before turning to reenter the building. Olivia stood a moment longer to consider that almost nothing of the day had escaped his keen attention—or his thoughtful assessment.

What did that mean?

What did she want it to mean?

The afternoon had finalized Sloan’s assessment of his opinion of Olivia Cameron. It had also solidified his interest. The one thing he was now certain of was that he wanted to continue seeing her. It felt instinctual. Until he finished and turned in his report, however, any pursuit or communication remained official. He was about to change that. His very limited contact so far was daring and risky, but he felt compelled to push the envelope to purposefully test Olivia’s reaction. She was surprised with the few gestures, but she never objected or warned him off. They were small acceptances, but acceptances nonetheless.

Sloan returned to his office, closing the door and sitting at his desk to use the phone.

“Lieutenant Anderson, please, if he’s available… Special Agent Kendrick… Sure.” Sloan was put on hold. He sighed with relief that Anderson was around and not out on a case or at headquarters for something worse. He was impatient to move forward with his own interests. “Yeah, Gary. Hey. Sure I’m not interrupting anything? Got it. This won’t take long.

“I have one more thing to take care of, but I’ll be submitting my report on the Olivia Cameron case in a few days… No. As far as I can discover, there’s nothing more to accomplish. That’s the short version of what I’ll be writing up… Your department has the final word, but I’d like to ask you to do something for me. I’d like to be officially pulled from the case. My part is done… I appreciate that… Frankly I just don’t think I’m needed anymore. No need to spend the agency’s or my time chasing a vague, long-ago theft. I’m convinced we’ll never find the way to the start of it. I consider Ms. Cameron’s money discovery pure coincidence. You know how I feel about coincidence… Thanks. One more thing. What’s going to happen with the money? That’s fantastic. If everything works out with the public notice, will there be a problem with me informing her?… Well, I’ve had the most contact with her, and I’d like to be there to see her reaction… Good enough. Let me know… That’s great. I appreciate it.”

Sloan sat back in his chair, feeling some relief from the conversation with Gary Anderson, as if one hurdle had been cleared. But there were more ahead of him. He checked the time. It was late in the afternoon. He hoped the rest of the day could be concluded without any outside criminal occurrences or emergencies or being put on a last-minute call sheet. He needed time to get his head around where he was moving with Olivia, where he strongly felt he wanted to go.

It occurred to Sloan in a moment of absolute truth, he’d not felt so strongly about anything since returning from Afghanistan. At that time, nothing had seemed like it would ever be certain in his life again. And so far, he’d been right. Even his brief marriage had turned out to be a casualty of that war.

Sloan, not usually given to examining aspects of his personal life, had come to the unavoidable conclusion that Olivia Cameron, for reasons still to be discovered, had very definitely become part of his personal life. He was stunned by the realization, but he was also pragmatic. She was in it.

Deal with it.

He only had to figure out how he was going to get close enough to find out more and to see if he could cultivate some interest on her part. The thing was, he knew it was there…carefully controlled and curated, maybe. Olivia was smart and fearless, in a quiet unassuming way. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, but she wasn’t combative. She wasn’t hesitant about confronting him eyeball to eyeball and holding his gaze as if she was probing deep into his soul. He was sure he knew what that was all about as well. He only needed Olivia to confirm or deny the possibility of her own interest.

The other thing that Sloan had to confront was the swiftness with which his attention had been grabbed when they’d met. Their eyes meeting down the length of a school corridor and creating a fierce tension in his stomach had struck a nerve that said you’re all in from this moment. And that subtle but lovely smile, her cheeks filling and directed at him. Her flawless brown skin. He liked the way her hair fell to her neck, smoothly framing her face. A side part swept a portion of her hair over her forehead, not quite obstructing her left eye.

She’s beautiful,Sloan thought. An instant appraisal that was more true each time he saw her. Each time her magical smile was presented to him.

“Okay. We’re off,” he murmured to himself, standing.

He said it as if now were the start of a race or an event headed for a conclusion—or the establishing of a fact that he still had to prove.

He wandered off to thank all the agents who’d given their time and their expertise to a dozen or so charter high school kids who needed as many opportunities as they could get.

“For heaven’s sake, Liv, it’s only a date. Not even that. You just want to see if the man is worth the time and effort. Is he interesting? Presentable? You know…reasonably good-looking. Has his own teeth. Does he make you laugh?”

Olivia sighed dramatically. This was the usual drift of the conversations with Tessa. “It’s too much work. I always feel like I’m keeping a score sheet while trying to have real conversation with these men. I feel like they’re doing the same thing to me.”

“That’s the way the dating game is played this century. In a lot of ways, it’s easier. Dating sites really cut to the chase and the wait time. You can meet a whole bunch of men in a short period of time. Like…in an hour, you could have a dozen responses to choose from.”

“It’s nerve-racking, Tessa. It’s…scary.”

“I get that you’re scared, but you’re taking it too seriously. I swear, Dr. Marcus did a real job on you after that accident. He seemed to lose his bedside manner overnight! And that excuse about his conjugal rights. Asshole! Who knew he was so shallow?”

Olivia winced at Tessa’s very honest assessment of that time and her ex.

“Pretend online dating is a game. Pin the tail on the bro. Which one is the real man? Are any of them going to fit into your mythical checklist?”

“So far I’m zero for what? Ten? Fifteen?”

Tessa laughed, her head thrown back and showing excellent teeth on the desktop screen, her wine sloshing precariously in a glass. “Girl, you need to lighten up. Yeah, there are a lot of dogs out there, but there are a lot of lovely men. Gainfully employed, not living with their mothers or trying to control you. You have to be more patient and less picky.”

Olivia took a delicate sip of her own wine. Tessa’s comment gave her pause as she mentally sought to fit Sloan Kendrick into any of Tessa’s categories. She adjusted her legs to rebalance her laptop as she and her former college roommate conducted a Zoom cocktail hour. It had become a much looked forward to weekly meetup, especially during the COVID pandemic. Even after the country began to unwisely open up too soon, there was something very cozy and safe about their wine weeklies.

Tessa had insisted it be just the two of them this evening and not the other two women in their circle, Lynn and Mallory…all together jokingly referred to as the Gang of Four.

“You know, you’re right,” Olivia said, pensive. “Suddenly I’m willing to consider men I would have passed over in college. I accept that we all have shortcomings. It’s actually nearly impossible to find a Prince Charming or even a prince who’s not a frog. And the truth is some of the men in my past have been brutal about my flaws.”

“Oops. I hear the ghosts of the recent past. I know you’re talking about Marcus. Only he would think your idiosyncrasies were flaws and not adorable quirks.”

Olivia did not confirm. There would be no point. Her life was an open book to Tessa. They’d known each other since the first day freshman year at USC. Olivia drank more wine. “Maybe brutal was too strong a word.”

“Not inappropriate. To me, Marcus was always a bit judgmental, sometimes in an unkind way. It’s astonishing that he thought he would make a brilliant doctor.”

“He is brilliant. Just…distant. And full of himself.” Olivia felt a guilty need to clarify her opinion. “But he can be very concerned and caring.”

“Mmmmm. Depending on the day of the week. Or if he could get personal PR out of a case. Okay, I get that you hate online dating, but the traditional way of meeting the opposite sex can’t compete with online platforms and a catalog of eligible men. Right?”

Then how did she explain the way she’d met Sloan? Olivia considered without responding to Tessa’s comments. And why was she thinking of him as eligible? Available? Desirable? How was her instant reaction to him explained away by anything else but chemistry? Or desperation.

“What really happened between you and Travis?” Olivia asked quietly. She knew that she was the only one Tessa would even entertain mentioning the man who had been almost the one to. “It had to be more than a fabulous job prospect in New York.”

Tessa stared at the screen, blinking and thoughtful. She glanced off to the side and ran a hand under her thick, loose weave of curly hair. It was very becoming and looked very natural. She sighed. Drank more wine. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“You weren’t saying much of anything at the time of the breakup. I knew you were…devastated.”

“The usual. His parents wouldn’t let up. It wasn’t that they didn’t like me. They were really lovely to me. But they kept throwing his future in his face and the downsides of marrying someone Black. I don’t give Travis credit for holding out for almost two years, telling them they had no right to dictate who he could love. He never committed to me. Maybe he never intended to, but…I know he loved me, Liv. Maybe as much as he could. Then his father brought up two magic words. Children. Inheritance. He caved. I didn’t want to know which held the most clout. What was the point?”

“Did he want children?”

Tessa pursed her mouth. “I don’t think it ever came up. We were busy having a great time together. Going to premieres. Traveling, partying, setting up that gorgeous place in Santa Monica. I would have loved kids with Travis. I want kids. I think. I don’t know, Liv. Sometimes I’m not sure. Not a good recommendation for parenthood.”

“Well, you’re far more likely to meet a good man than I am. You’ll date anyone.”

Tessa’s eyes widened, bringing her out of her reflection, and she roared with laughter. “OMG! That’s true, I suppose. After all, that’s how I met Travis. This cute white guy chasing after me all over Southern California was fabulous for my ego and my libido. Ummph! But…I’m not sure I’ll go that route again. Every time there’s a fight, you’re holding your breath wondering if the Big R thing is coming up in the next sentence. It’s…stressful. I won’t rule it out, but I’m certainly not going out looking for that kind of relationship again.”

But what if you’re not looking at all? What if, out of the blue, this guy appears in your life and you’re positively gobsmacked?

“So this guy that tagged you last week. Are you going to agree to meet him?”

Olivia sighed. “Maybe.”

Tessa shook her head. “You are really a sad case. Coffee is not a commitment. He’s not taking you home to meet his mother.”

“You’re not giving me any credit for seeing Wilson twice! That has to count for something. He’s had two chances.”

“And?” Tessa asked, skeptical.

With that, Olivia’s insides twisted, and a vivid image of Sloan appeared in her mind’s eye. Wilson wasn’t Sloan. Sloan was most definitely not Wilson. She recalled how suddenly close he was to her when she’d called him back to her car to ask about a field trip for Harvest students. The way he’d stared at her, his gaze studying her features.

What did he see?

“Lynn is really good at finding guys. Some sort of extra sense. She’s passed along some strong prospects to me since I broke up with Travis,” Tess said with quiet admiration.

“Please don’t say anything to Lynn about me. She’s critical. She says I’m not trying hard enough. I’m not. Maybe I don’t care. Maybe I’m not ready.”

“Yeah, she’s tough. And angry. But she’s too sexual to give up. For Lynn it’s all recreational sex. Healthy release. Did she ever tell you about her orgasms?”

Olivia nearly choked on a swallow of wine. “No, thank goodness. And don’t you dare share!”

“I’m telling you, you wouldn’t believe the things the girl has tried. You do have to be open to all possibilities, right? That’s where you fall short, Livi. Don’t think too much about this.”

Olivia considered the remaining wine in her glass. Considered Sloan and the unexpected and bold move he’d made, slipping his warm, large, masculine fingers into her sweater opening. She’d relived the moment, the sensation, that whole night. Her stomached twisted again. She quickly drained the glass and grimaced, as if she’d just swallowed bad medicine.

Sloan was not bad medicine. He was only unexpected…and had changed the game.

“Right.”