“We did.” He left it at that, so I didn’t push.
“How long were you together?”
He released a short laugh. “Ironically, not that long. And even when we were together, it was a secret.” He glanced back at me. “I’ll understand if you decide to keep us a secret.”
I arched an eyebrow. “I’m no one’s dirty little secret, James Malcom.”
He looked surprised.
“What?” I challenged. “Once this is done, you either openly see me, or this will be a short-lived tryst.”
He gave me a pointed look. “Tryst?”
“Fine, affair. Friends with benefits. Whatever you want to call it.”
He studied me for a long moment. “You want us to be linked together in public?”
“I don’t plan to rent a billboard announcing that I’m screwing you, but yeah. If I see you at the tavern, I’m not going to pretend we’re not together. Besides, your staff already knows.”
“They won’t talk.”
Before I got to know him, I would have presumed they wouldn’t have talked out of fear of retribution. But now I knew better. They were loyal to him. “I don’t care if they talk.” I paused. “Do you?”
“It’s you I’m protectin’,” he said in exasperation.
“That doesn’t answer my question, does it?”
Still watching me, he let out a heavy sigh, then turned back around.
“Your reputation will probably be ruined,” he said softy.
“News flash. It’s already ruined. I don’t give a shit what people think about me.”
“Liar,” he scoffed lightly.
I drew in a breath. “Okay, fair. But I’m tired of worrying about what people think about me. I just want to live my life.” I let my fingers glide over his shoulders as I began to massage again.
“Did someone find out about you two?” I finally asked. “Is that why you ended things?”
He was silent for several seconds, and I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to answer the question, but then he surprised me.
“It ended for a lot of reasons. For one, we only saw each other a few times a week at my house. For another, she wanted a husband and a family. My life wasn’t conducive to either of those things.”
“They could be now,” I said, almost regretting the words as soon as I said them. “Your life is very different than it was.”
“Is it?” he countered.
“As far as I can tell, you’re not running a crime ring, so yeah, I’d say it is.”
“I still have a reputation. My name precedes me. Like tonight. That makes me dangerous.” He was silent for a moment. “Do you want those things, Harper?” His question hung in the air. “A husband? Kids?”
“I never saw myself having kids,” I said thoughtfully. “I was a workaholic, and I swore if I ever had kids, they’d never doubt my love for them. Seems to me the surest way to make your six-year-old question whether you love them is to miss their dance recital or T-ball game because you’re close to cracking a case and you can’t tear yourself away.”
“Your situation has changed too,” he pointed out.
“Maybe. But I don’t know that I have it in me to be a good mom. So it’s probably best I don’t become one.”
He absorbed that, then asked, “And a husband?”
