He nodded and shifted in his seat, and the sweater tugged at him uncomfortably. “Can we save this conversation for my condo? I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“Anything?”
He nodded.
“Fine. Get going.”
Relieved she didn’t seem angry, just solemn, he drove them back to his place and hustled her upstairs.
He pushed her through the door and went right for the washer. After tossing his sweater and a mound of detergent inside, he turned it on and moved in search of comfortable clothes.
Just as he emerged from his closet in lounge pants and a loose henley—thank God—Marlie waited for him wearing pajama pants and an overlarge tee. She stood with her arms crossed, her gaze intent, reminding him of her mother.
“Something funny, Sinclair?”
He wiped the grin from his face. “No, ma’am. What do you want to know?”
“Why are you lying to me?”
His genuine confusion eased some of Marlie’s anxiety. She believed him wholeheartedly about the party and the gross sweater. He hadn’t looked twice at the topless women next to him. And that had shocked her, because even she’d been enthralled by such perfect breasts.
Not Damon, who’d had eyes only for Marlie.
Everything she learned about him made her like him so much more. The fact he didn’t fit in with his partying friends. That everyone made fun of him for being anal retentive—she’d heard plenty at the party. Yet they still respected him for going his own way.
His actions at the arena, in front of so many people, had been sincere, humorous, and so very Damon. He didn’t try to be what he wasn’t. And damn it all, she loved that about him.
She loved him.
Unfortunately, she’d done her best to convince him they were only casual buddies. He’d willingly agreed. Yet he’d also claimed to be something he wasn’t. His agent, Mark, had complained for some time about Damon’s unwillingness to give the crowd any hint of scandal. According to Mark, Damon was too boring for some of their sponsors.
And her big doofus didn’t seem to care. Yes, he’d told her about his charities, but Mark had told her a lot more. Damon spent more time donating money and with free appearances to help children and charities than he did trying to score large contracts. Content with his team and his earnings, he didn’t act like an ass or make Mark’s job any easier, because he was happy with his life.
Boring Demon Sinclair.
It didn’t fit. Yet it did.
He eyed her with caution. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you want to tear off my face and wear it. That or kiss me.”
“Maybe we should lay off all the horror movies for a while.” She did her best not to laugh. “Now, answer the question. Why are you lying to me?”
He paled, and a pit in her stomach dropped. “Look, I didn’t mean to.”
“Oh?”
He paced. “It’s your fault. I took one look at you and was a goner. But you didn’t even remember my name. You’re so hot and mean. And your lips.” He groaned. “Fine. You want the truth? I’m not a bad boy. I’m not bad at all. I’m disgustingly good.”
“That’s your secret?”
He left the room and returned with a sheet of paper. “Here. I’m also clean as a whistle, in ridiculously good health except for my knee.”
“What is this?”
“A health report. I wanted you to know how much it meant to me that you were cool with me not using a condom. So I got a checkup the other day to show you that you didn’t make a mistake trusting me.”
