Exposed by Jessica Love Read Free Book Online Page B

knew.
    “Somebody leak? Or ask you for my references?”
    “Remember when I was late to talk to you after the Daddy Williams fiasco?”
    “You were having a drink with Max Moore.”
    “Moore wanted to talk about a merger of firms, under his letterhead but I would come in as full partner,” Tony said.
    My heart sank. That would mean I would be at the same firm as Mark. And I knew that would create problems, even if I didn’t yet know how. The thought of Max Moore disquieted me, too.
    “What did you tell him?” I asked, tensing.
    “That I was honored, that I would think about it,” Tony said.
    “And?”
    “I’m offering you a greater percentage of what you generate,” he said. He drained his beer just as Sami put a fresh one on the table, and she cleared the empty as if this were a well-practiced routine.
    “I don’t get the connection,” I said.
    “For the longest while I couldn’t figure it out. Moore doesn’t need my book of business. Yes, I do pretty damn well, but merging would cost Moore as much or more than he could get training another pack of his own dogs. I didn’t see his self-interest, and Moore doesn’t make stupid mistakes.”
    “And the conclusion was…” sometimes I just hated this game of Tony’s, making you ask for the next piece of information, the connection between dots he so reluctantly doled out.
    “Max Moore doesn’t want me. He wants you. He wants the business you’ve created, the reputation you’ve made in the community.”
    Tony’s eyes hovered over the beer at his lips, but those eyes were locked onto mine. I was being read, and Tony could read anybody.
    “Really,” I said. I relaxed. As soon as I did, Tony did too. Nonverbal communication is bred into us by millennia of social evolution.
    “What?” Tony asked.
    My turn, Tony, I thought. I was going to make him wait. Finally he smiled, knowing exactly what I was up to. “Okay,” he said, “What?” with just enough plea in his voice.
    “I don’t want to work at Moore and Associates. My husband works there. I would be lost in his shadow. I would be lost among all those lawyers, all of whom have more prestigious degrees than I do, fancier names, bigger egos. I like what I’m doing, and I like where I’m doing it.”
    Tony grinned from ear to ear. He knew I was telling the truth, and with the additional money he just put on the table, he knew I would be very happy to stay right where I was.
    • • • •
    It was late summer, a Thursday. Mark and I had gone out to dinner, which we did far more often than we ate at home. Both of us can cook, but neither likes to do dishes. We had been talking about taking Friday off, which is the reason I remember that it was a Thursday.
    Hell, I have lots of reasons to remember that day. A Thursday.
    Somewhere between standard Seattle cuisine of organically grown romaine lettuce and a Dungeness crab-stuffed Copper River salmon, Mark looked out over the water and asked, in the most unbelievably nonchalant voice I have ever heard, “Would you like to go to that SASSA place after dinner?”
    “You bored with me, sweetie?” I asked, and was only half-kidding.
    Mark and I never talked about our sex life, especially our pasts. I’d not told him of my previous experiences, and he hadn’t offered to discuss his. We were both healthy young adults with history. I guess we each assumed that if there were anything to say, it would be said.
    Yes, I had my fantasies, and I assume he had his. But that’s just normal. Talking about them would make it seem… less normal.
    Our sex was still good, though. Very good, by most standards. But by that point in our relationship, we could anticipate what the other would do next. Most often we looked forward to that next thing, too.
    But routine is routine.  I think we probably took the same amount of time, more or less, each night we made love. Most often that’s good. But it’s still… routine.
    “Of course not,” he said, tracing the vein