A Harmless Little Ruse (Harmless #2)(23)

But I don’t want that.

The only person I want to do that with is Lindsay.

“I don’t share much about my personal life,” I grind out. Mark’s face is so serious. He looks like he’d rather shave his own balls with a rusty razor than stand here with Tiffany and me, talking about threesomes.

Frankly, so would I.

Tiffany sighs, a long, slow sound designed to give Mark and me a chance to change our minds. Her eyes jump between us, and then she drops her head slightly in defeat.

“The good ones are always taken. I hope your women appreciate you.”

I cringe inside, but keep my face neutral.

“Right.”

Mark gives me a neutral look and starts to walk back inside my apartment. “Carrie’s waiting for me.” He gives Tiffany a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Tiffany.”

“You got a brother, Mark? Maybe he and I...”

Mark laughs. “My brother’s engaged.”

“Oh.” Tiffany bats her eyelashes at me. “Drew?”

“Only have a sister. And she’s married,” I add pointedly.

Tiffany giggles. “I don’t swing that way.”

She clearly swings every way else, though.

“Well,” Tiffany says, looking away from us, staring out at the ocean. “My life could be worse than talking to a couple of hot guys and getting rejected. I could have saggy boobs, you know?” She sticks her chest out. “They’re good, right? The surgeon says I’m all healed from my lift surgery six weeks ago.”

Mark coughs and tries not to look. “They’re fine.”

Bzzzz.

My back pocket vibrates and I pull out the phone.

Gentian. A routine paperwork question.

I take the opportunity and look at Mark. “Work. We need to go.” I nudge my head toward my place. “Bye, Tiffany.”

“Bye, Drew. And nice to meet you --”

I close the door and run my hands through my hair while Mark tries to laugh silently.

“Girlfriend? Now you’re calling Lindsay your girlfriend? If she’s your girlfriend, I’d hate to see what a woman who really hates you looks like, Foster.”

I glare. “Fuck off, Paulson.”

“Threesome,” he gasps. “That’s a first.”

“Really? Even in the DEA, undercover...?” Mark’s worked deep undercover for years.

“Been hit on by guys. Loads of women. Never been offered a threesome, though.” He frowns. “Carrie’s going to hate hearing this.”

I don’t even ask why he’s telling her. I know his philosophy of relationships. You keep a secret when you need to, or when work requires it. Otherwise, you tell everything, because we already have to keep so many secrets.

Relationships are built on sharing and trust.

Trust.

Right.

Lindsay can’t trust me, and I don’t blame her.

And I can’t share everything with her because I don’t have a choice.

“Thanks for the very interesting evening, Foster. I came here to make sure you’re okay, and instead I got to be a judge on Best Plastic Surgery in Malibu.”

“Don’t ever say my jobs aren’t intellectually stimulating.”

“I think Tiffany’s over there intellectually stimulating herself right now,” he adds dryly.

“Gross.”

But we laugh.

“Tiffany’s a nice person. She just has boundary issues.”

“Don’t f*ck her for the wrong reasons, Drew.”

I jolt. “Is there a right reason? I have zero interest in f*cking her.”

“Good.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. But you’re so in love with Lindsay, and she’s so angry with you, that I can see how crazy it’s making you. And when we get crazy, we make bad choices.” He grimaces. “I know I have.”

“Right.” I’m still buzzing, and shutting down. My body twitches, calves spasming. I need to make love with Lindsay, beat off, or go for a ten-mile run.

Preferably all three.

“Look. I came over here to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Fine.” He lets out a bark of laughter and shakes his head. “Right. Just like we were all fine in Afghanistan. Fine is the stupidest word when it comes to describing emotional states.”

“You sound like my psychologist.”

“How is Dr. Diamante?” The question isn’t casual. I know what he’s telling me. Not asking.

Telling.

“Wouldn’t know. Haven’t had to see her in a while.”

“Might want to give her a call.”

“Might not.”

His nostrils flare. It’s posturing. He’s not my commanding officer any longer. In fact, I’m his boss. And my personal life and emotional state are none of Mark’s business. Nice of him to care, but he needs to butt the f*ck out.

He sighs and reaches into his pocket, jangling his car keys. “Do what you want.”

“I always do.”

“But -- ”

I groan.

“But you almost got yourself fired today. Expect a text from the senator.”