Infamous: (A Bad Boy Romantic Suspense) by Mila Noir Read Free Book Online

tell the color and couldn’t remember it from before, either.
    “So it is you. It’s been awhile,” he said. She put her hands in her pockets and nodded.
    “About ten years,” she answered a bit curtly. But then, she had no reason to be nice to Anton Quinn, no reason to give him anything more than the bare minimum. Not even that, if she didn’t want to. She owed him nothing. She was merely being polite, he told himself. Probably so she could move on knowing she was definitely the bigger person. Not that that was ever really in doubt, he thought.
    “What have you been up to?” he asked, feeling stupid. The truth was, he didn’t know what to say to her, now that she was in front of him. “I’m sorry” seemed inadequate.
    “I’m a journalist in the city now. Came up here for a little holiday, maybe write a little something on the festival.”
    “Seems like a boring-ass thing to write about, really. Why not write about the Saints’ deaths instead?” he said, eliciting a look of surprise and irritation.
    “Since I’m the writer, I’ll decide what to write about, thanks. If you don’t mind, I’m heading out. I had a long drive,” she said, and he mentally slapped himself. He’d basically just accused her of being boring, or incompetent, or both. Great, good going, that was definitely the approach he wanted to take.
    “Maybe I’ll see you around town. Catch up some more,” he said, trying to sound like it didn’t matter. He wished it didn’t, but now that he’d seen her again, he wanted very much to ask her out for coffee and try to explain things. To make amends. And maybe see her in the daylight, where he could fully appreciate those mature curves.
    “I wouldn’t count on it. I’m not really in the mood for any trips down memory lane. I think you know why,” Taylor answered, her voice sharp.
    “That was a long damn time ago,” he said quietly, feeling guilty. Which made him feel something else: angry.
    “Yes. Thankfully. But we’re not friends, and we never were. And we’ve clearly gone in very different directions in our lives,” she said with a sniff. He felt himself get flushed. She was looking down on him, judging him. She thought she was better than him. Well, isn’t she? a little voice in his head sneered. He hated that voice. It sounded a lot like his dad’s.
    “Well, I can see one thing hasn’t changed about you. You’re still a snotty little know-it-all who thinks they’re better than everyone,” he said, voice rough. He saw her eyes flash and her cheeks flush. It was incredibly becoming.
    “Thank you for that. I was wondering if you’d changed at all. I guess not. And for the record? I’m certainly better than some people. Good night,” she said, and walked off. He heard her car door slam and watched her hightail it out of the parking lot. He rubbed his forehead, feeling stupid and angry and frustrated. That hadn’t gone at all how he’d always pictured it in his head.
    To be honest, his fantasy of telling Taylor Harlow he was sorry had always been a bit one-sided. He’d say he was really sorry, she’d forgive him, and it would be done. No muss, no fuss, he’d be absolved of his sin and everything would be fine and dandy forever. What she had never been in his fantasy of it was so…pretty. And sexy. And confident. She’d still been that gawky teen he’d known, grateful for his attention and his sincere apology.
    The woman she’d become was clearly not even remotely interested in him or how sorry he was. And why should she be? She’d had ten years to get over it. To probably remember him as nothing but an asshole that she’d made the mistake of liking at one point or other and trying to befriend.
    Anton looked back at the bar, but all interest in drinking, socializing, and even screwing had fled. He just wanted to crawl into bed and forget this night had ever happened.
    And he especially wanted to forget the way Taylor Harlow’s dark eyes had looked at him