Dating the Enemy

  “And I told you I don’t drink alcoholic beverages on a date.”

  “Which is exactly why I ordered you H20”—Brooks took the tall glass from the tray after the server stopped at our table—“with a twist of lime.”

  I eyed him suspiciously as he set the glass in front of me while the server set a tumbler of gin by him. Before taking a drink, I sniffed it, just to make sure it really was water.

  “Why with lime? Most people do lemon in their water,” I asked as I squeezed the green wedge into my drink.

  “Too sour.”

  My forehead creased. “Limes are sour.”

  “No, limes are tart.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  Brooks took a sip of his drink, no longer staring at the lime wedge. “Sour is unbearable. Tart is irresistible.”

  I held his stare too long.

  “So?” He took another sip of his drink, shifting closer. “Are you any closer to falling in love with me?”

  Even Jimmy’s eyes widened.

  Stalling by taking a drink of water, I composed an answer appropriate given the question. “No. But it’s not your fault you’re an asshole, so don’t be too hard on yourself.”

  Again, Jimmy sliced his finger across his neck, but it was a half-hearted one, like he was resigned to the fact we weren’t going to edit ourselves anytime soon.

  “If you don’t fall in love with me, it will have more to do with you being an invertible shrew than me being an insufferable ass.” He nudged me, which made me flinch. “It wouldn’t matter who the man was, Satan or Adonis, it would still take months to crack through that ironclad, man-hating crust.”

  I really should have been more disciplined when it came to my New Year’s resolution of daily meditation. “I don’t hate men.”

  Brooks’s head fell back, a chuckle following. “Oh, that’s right. You just expect us to be perfect all the time. If we’re not, then you hate us.”

  Breathe in peace. Exhale anger. I thought that was what that meditation book had suggested. All three pages I’d gotten through.

  “I do not hate men,” I enunciated.

  He leaned in as though to tell me a secret. “You hate me.”

  “I have a very good reason for hating you.”

  Brooks faked an injured expression. “What reason is that? Because from what I recall, you have three very good reasons for not hating me.”

  It took me a moment to realize what he was getting at. Those three reasons from the night I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.

  “There are three million reasons for—”

  “For you to love me,” he interrupted.

  My fingers wound tighter around my glass. “Oh, and by the way, you are an egotistical, arrogant, cocky—”

  “Asshole?” Brooks clinked his glass against mine, the gleam in his eyes telling he was loving every second of this diatribe. “All the same meaning by the way. Kind of redundant for a journalist who knows the price of every word.”

  For a few minutes, I’d forgotten about Jimmy and the camera and the viewers. That changed when a server rolled up to our table and brought me back to reality.

  “This is from the woman at the bar,” she said as she set a drink in front of Brooks. It was wrong; he didn’t drink whatever dark alcohol was swishing inside.

  “Which one?” he asked, his eyes roaming the line of women sidled up to the bar as though he were ranking their screwability.

  The server had already left when he asked his question, but I guessed it was more voiced to rile me up than to actually satisfy a curiosity.

  “I know what you’re doing,” I said before faking a yawn.

  Brooks turned toward me. “What am I doing?”

  I ignored him, twirling my straw around in my water. “Trying to make me jealous in some desperate hope I’ll throw myself at you when I learn how in demand you are. But let me tell you something—dating has nothing to do with supply and demand.”

  Brooks slid aside the fresh drink. “Of course it does. The fewer men, or women, that are available, the higher demand drives.”

  I couldn’t help the face I made from his response. “Of course you would look at relationships like an Economics 101 class.”

  “That’s because most everything in this life is tied to economics, whether it’s energy prices or potential suitors.” Brooks motioned at me. “And you are jealous. Or else you wouldn’t have brought the topic up in the first place.”

  How that man had a talent for bringing my blood to an instant boil. I bit my tongue for a moment. “The only thing I’m jealous of is that those women aren’t sitting beside you instead of me right now.”

  A noise emanated from his chest. “You know, they say disdain is veiled love in its infancy. Just like one day love becomes masked disdain.” He lifted his gin glass as though he were making a toast. “It’s the circle of life.”

  My body angled away from him as I calculated how many more minutes I’d have to stay for this to count as a date. “Who says that? Adam Smith the father of modern economics?”

  Before Brooks could reply, my phone pinged with a text. A moment later, so did Brooks’s. Mine was from Mr. Conrad and brief, albeit to the point. Judging from the sigh that came from Brooks, his message was identical to mine.

  Slipping his phone into his pocket, he held out his hand. “What do you say about that dance?”

  My hands remained folded in my lap. “I say it’s a bad idea,” I said as I stood, Conrad’s message ringing in my ears like he’d screamed it instead.

  “And plenty of bad ideas have been the catalyst for something great.”

  When I met him around the front of our table, I didn’t miss the way he was staring at me. Appraising me in a way I hadn’t felt in a while.

  “I can’t think of one real-life example of that being true,” I said, smoothing my hands down my dress.

  “And I can think of endless ones. That’s the difference between you and me. You think there’s only one path to a destination, whereas I see hundreds. You see life as one big search to find it, while I say you already have.”

  His words were making my head hurt as we moved toward the dance floor, Jimmy floating in front of us. For a barbarian, Brooks had surprising depth. It was too bad that depth was totally flawed in its logic, but it showed he’d actually spent some time reflecting on life instead of gallivanting through it.

  “Have I managed the impossible and potentially silenced the Ms. Romance?” Brooks’s arm nudged mine.

  Maybe he had. But he definitely did not need to know that.

  My head tipped as I turned to face him. “I thought we were supposed to be dancing, not debating.”

  “I thought you could do both.” As he turned toward me, one of his hands slipped around my waist.

  The air felt as though it were being siphoned from my lungs.

  “Could is different than should,” I said, hearing my voice wobble a little when his other hand found its way around my back. “And if you don’t want to get kneed in an area responsible for your future offspring, let’s keep our debates to an arm’s-length distance.”

  His chest rocked against mine from his muted chuckle. “Fair enough.”

  As Brooks stepped into me, his feet staggering between mine, I froze, feeling like I’d lost all function in my limbs. Dance, I instructed myself, but I couldn’t recall the last time I’d danced. At least not when I wasn’t locked in my bathroom while Prince got me through my morning routine.

  Even in high school, the one formal dance I’d attended, I’d gone with friends, not a date. The way one moved with friends was totally different than the way one danced with a man.

  Seeming to pick up on my uncertainty, Brooks moved in a bit closer, leading, slowly guiding my body. The music and other people faded away until all I could make out was the dull beat of the drums.

  “Not a big dancer?” he said, quietly enough I guessed Jimmy’s mic wouldn’t have picked up on it.

  “
Dance or the dentist. It’s a toss-up for which I’d rather do.” My hands fumbled to find a place to drop. They wound up draped over his shoulders, which seemed like a reasonable place.

  “You’re keeping up just fine,” he said as he managed to manipulate my body just enough I didn’t look like I was having a seizure.

  “Yeah right.” I glanced over at Jimmy a few feet away. With all of the noise and bodies, it was unlikely he could pick up any of our conversation, but I still found myself lowering my voice.

  Brooks’s shoulders lifted beneath my hands. “Dancing is exactly like having sex, except you’re vertical and have clothes on.”

  My spine tingled from the image that jumped into my head. “So you have a lot of experience having sex?”

  “When it comes to experience, it’s about quality, not quantity.”

  His hips swayed against mine, responsible for making my nails dig into his shirt harder than I’d intended. “So you’ve had quality sex?”

  His blue eyes darkened a few shades. “What’s your opinion on that? Given your personal experience.”

  My eyes cut to Jimmy. All of those people watching . . . even though they couldn’t hear what we were saying, expressions could hint at the tenor of our conversation.

  “Don’t worry.” Brooks’s mouth lowered to my ear. “I’m not going to tell the world you fell into bed with some guy whose first name you didn’t know. That would be too easy.”

  My knee actually twitched from holding back. “And don’t worry, I’m not going to tell the world the size of your—”

  “Wouldn’t exactly hurt my case, would it?” His brows lifted as he smirked at me.

  I exhaled, knowing arguing was pointless. In Brooks’s case, his ego actually did match the appendage hanging between his legs.

  My eyes met his, the challenge in them mirrored in Brooks’s. “You’re never going to prove your point, you know?”

  Brooks pulled me closer abruptly, sending the slightest of shivers down my back. He didn’t miss it. “I’ve already proven it.” He grinned. “Now I just have to prove it to the world.”

  Viewership was up. Date Two had lured in more viewers than even Conrad had hoped for so early on. He was practically frothing at the mouth waiting for what Date Three’s numbers would garner.

  I, on the other hand, was dreading it. Partly because of the number of viewers. . . and partly because of Brooks. At the end of our second date, Brooks offered to drive me home, but I’d decided to take a taxi instead. I needed to keep my time with him as minimal as possible because, as hard as it was to admit this to myself, I felt something stirring inside. The same stirrings I’d felt that night we spent together. I was certain it was nothing more than a carnal craving, but any urge where Mr. Reality was concerned had to be concealed until it was extinguished.

  “If we head back now, you’ll make it in time for rummy club,” I said as I maneuvered Mrs. Norton’s wheelchair on the path.

  “Are you going to join us this time, honey?” Mrs. Norton tightened the knot on the scarf wound around her hair. The breeze had a bite to it today.

  “I’m still recovering from my last loss playing with you card sharks, so probably not.”

  “When you live at an old folks’ home and all you have is time on your hands, you become proficient at cards, puzzles, and gossip.” She smiled back at me. “Quite the glamorous life.”

  “You staying warm enough?” I asked as a rush of wind cut across the park. She was bundled up in a big coat and a blanket cinched around her lap, but I remembered how my grandma could never seem to stay warm those last years of her life. I’d find her in a sweater and slippers on a July afternoon, nursing a cup of Earl Gray.

  “The cold is worth the fresh air.” Mrs. Norton inhaled, taking in the sights. “You’re a darling for spending your Sundays with us, when there’s only about a million other things a person your age could and should be doing.”

  I had to grit my jaw as we approached a hill. Even though it was slight and the path was paved, my endurance was on par with a couch potato’s. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather spend my Sundays than here.”

  “Even with your grandma having passed?”

  “Especially now.” We slowed to a snail’s pace as my heart hammered from the exertion. I hated this damn hill. “You all remind me of her. Part of her still feels alive here.”

  “Your grandma would not shut up about you. She was so proud of you.” Mrs. Norton glanced back at me, concern exaggerating her wrinkles. She was probably worried I was about to pass out and send us both rolling down the hill. “But she had every right to be proud of you. You turned into one of those people who’re going to change the world, instead of the other type intent on destroying it.” One of her hands dropped to her wheelchair wheel, trying to give me a little help up the hill. “Like that insufferable Mr. Reality. What a heinous human being, and now with you being forced to date him . . .” Mrs. Norton pffted, shaking her head. “If he ever crosses my path, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. The piece I’ve held back for ninety-five years.”

  Pausing to catch my breath, I made sure to set the brakes on the wheelchair. Mrs. Norton hadn’t survived a great depression, one world war, and giving birth to six children to see her last moments on this earth bouncing backward down a nature trail.

  “If your grandma were around to hear about all of this . . . she’d have something to say about it. Something that would burn a sailor’s ears.”

  Blowing my hair out of my face, I shoved my sweater sleeves up past my elbows. “If Grandma were still around, she’d remind me not to let anyone or anything get in the way of what I want. And I want that job as the head of the Life and Style department. If dating a heinous human being is attached to that, I can manage.”

  “Heinous human being, eh?” A new voice surprised me from behind. “I thought I detected my ears ringing a half mile back.”

  I placed the voice an instant before my head whipped around. My eyes bulged when I saw who was standing beside me, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and running shoes.

  “What . . . ?” I started, sounding as confused as I felt. “What are you . . . ?” Words got stuck in my throat again.

  “What am I doing here?” Brooks filled in, giving me a half smile when he caught me checking out his chest. “Stalking you. Obviously.”

  My eyebrows pulled together. “Why—”

  “Hannah, that was a joke.” He motioned at himself, yanking free the shirt dangling from his shorts to wipe his sweaty face. “I’m out for a run.” He noted my expression. “You know, a run. Physical exertion. Heartrate elevated. That kind of thing?”

  Mrs. Norton’s head was whipping from him to me, almost gaping between us the way she did when one of her favorite soaps was on.

  “I thought you found an apartment close to the office.”

  “I did.” He shrugged as he moved on to wiping off his neck.

  “That’s got to be at least ten miles from here,” I said.

  Checking his watch, he tipped his hand. “More like eleven and a half. Sunday’s are my long run days.”

  I must have been making a face, because it made him laugh. “A long run is a mile,” I said.

  “A mile’s a warm-up.”

  Then I remembered some of the dirt Quinn and I had dug up on him last weekend. “You’re one of those exercise fanatics, aren’t you?”

  “I’m one of those fanatics who like to stay healthy.”

  “You could run two miles and be healthy,” I said.

  “I like a challenge.”

  That was when Mrs. Norton reminded me of her presence with a clearing of her throat.

  “Oh, sorry. Susan Norton, meet Brooks North.” I motioned between them, not missing the way Mrs. Norton was looking at Brooks like he was an ice cream cone melting under the summer sun. “Brooks, meet Mrs. Norton.”

  “A pleasure.” Brooks slipped on that rogue-ish smile as he held out his hand.

  “Indeed.?
?? Mrs. Norton was blushing like a schoolgirl. Dear god, did this man’s effect on women have no bounds, age included? “Why didn’t you tell me your boyfriend was so easy on the eyes, Hannah?”

  I shot her a look. Wasn’t she the woman who’d just been bad-mouthing the “heinous human” I was forced to endure?

  “Yeah, why didn’t you tell her I was so good-looking?” Brooks crossed his arms, which made it all the more difficult to keep from staring at his chest.

  “Because there’s little, if not nothing, to tell.” Undoing the wheelchair’s brakes, I braced myself before attempting to heave Mrs. Norton the rest of the way up the hill.

  “I already told you I can tell when you’re lying.”

  “No, you’ve deluded yourself into believing I’m lying whenever I say something that doesn’t correspond with your worldview that you are flawless.”

  Brooks fell in beside me, looking like he was ready to jump in if I gave myself a heart attack. “I’ve got a flaw or two,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head. Mrs. Norton expressed what she thought about that in a long sigh. “But those have nothing to do with my looks. Or my forearms, isn’t that right?”

  My face heated when I realized he’d heard my humiliating answer from the other night. “Your degree of arrogance is repugnant.”

  “It’s not arrogance if it’s the truth, honey.” Mrs. Norton waved her finger at me, shooting another smile in Brooks’s direction.

  Can you say traitor?

  “Would you please let me help you?” Brooks actually butted in, grabbing one of the wheelchair handles I was holding. “It looks like that vein in your forehead’s about to burst.”

  “If it bursts, it’s because you are annoying me with your presence, not because of the physical exertion.” I swatted his hand away and kept pushing at a tick above a snail’s pace.

  “Why don’t you let him help? You sound like you’re going to have an asthma attack back there.” Mrs. Norton twisted around in her chair, her eyes filled with concern. “Tell me you have your inhaler.”

  “Wait. You’ve got asthma?” Brooks paused before rushing back up beside me. “Then I’m not asking anymore. I’m telling.” His shoulder bumped into mine as he tried maneuvering me out of the way. “Step aside.”