Zanaikeyros - Son of Dragons (Pantheon of Dragons #1)(5)

Macy smacked her lips and smiled. “Almost as yummy as a naked man with hard abs and a huge…smile.”

Jordan chuckled.

“So, did you take care of that business, whatever had you tied up earlier?”

Jordan shrugged one shoulder with indifference. “Yeah, pretty much.” She had given a full report to Michael Jacobs, and they had narrowed down potential suspects to three possible men: a Cuban named Carlos Blanco, who had been convicted of stalking a pre-teen girl; a Colombian named Javier, who had spent four years in the state penitentiary for aggravated sexual assault; and a loser named Alonzo, who was in and out of prison every couple of years, as if he had the routine set on a revolving schedule. Detective Mike was looking into all three cases, waiting to see if one of their inmate numbers matched, and he had offered to send a patrol car by Jordan’s building at regular intervals throughout the week—or at least until they got to the bottom of it. As she had surmised, the caller may have been set on vengeance, or he could just be a creepy cuckoo-bird, hell-bent on scaring a pretty young attorney.

One way or the other, they would put a quick end to it.

Jordan slapped her hand down on the table in an abrupt change of subject. “Enough of that. We’re not here to talk about me. How are you doing? How are you feeling? Are you ready for Monday?”

Macy sat back in her chair, considering Jordan’s words. Her eyes darted around the café in a sudden bout of people-watching, and then she abruptly slapped her hand on the table, mimicking Jordan’s gesture. “Enough of that, too!” she exclaimed. “We are only here to talk about frivolous things—nothing heavy.” She ran a finger through a clump of cinnamon, sugar, and butter, the gooey concoction left over on her plate, and sucked it off her finger, smiling. “Let’s look for hotties.”

Jordan threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, Macy, a one-track mind, as always.” She checked her watch and smiled. “As much as I would love to stalk the mall with you, trying to find a rare, delectable hunk, I can’t.” She frowned in apology. “I have to get back home. I have a case in Judge Stanley’s court on Tuesday morning—jury selection—and I’m not ready.” She raised her eyebrows. “Can you forgive me?”

Macy stuck her lip out in a playful pout. “Well, you’re no fun.”

“None at all,” Jordan agreed, hoping for mercy. She batted her large hazel eyes at her friend. “But you still love me, right?”

Macy sighed. “I guess.” And then she rolled her eyes.

“What?” Jordan asked.

Macy practically glared at her. “Nothing.”

“What?”

Macy harrumphed. “It’s just that I’m really getting tired of spending weekend after weekend home alone. Batman movies no longer really do it for me.”

Jordan furrowed her brows. “Okay…so what does that have to do with me?”

“Oh, please,” Macy chided.

“What?” Jordan repeated, sincerely puzzled.

Macy leaned forward in her chair and gave Jordan a cross look. “You are the eye-candy, the guy magnet, the one that draws the hotties in like bees to honey.”

Jordan smirked. “Yeah, or more like flies to shit.”

Macy laughed. “That, too,” she teased. “But it’s just that I need you to find me a man—just for the month of June, at least. Okay?”

Jordan scrunched up her nose and scoffed. “Oh my gosh. No. Even if you weren’t having surgery on Monday—which means you couldn’t really entertain a man right now, anyhow—you know that I am not into matchmaking or dating. Right now, I’m just focused on my career.”

“A career you hate,” Macy supplied, eyeing her meaningfully.

Jordan flicked her wrist as if shooing the topic away. “Maybe, but I thought we agreed: We aren’t having any heavy discussions right now.”

Macy nodded. “Right. Okay. But just as a quick aside, I’m only going to say one thing: I don’t care how much money you spent on that fancy law education. You hate it. You’re miserable doing it, and life is too short to spend rolling around in the muck with criminals.”

Okay, so Macy was going to go there, despite their agreement to keep it light. “Who’s rolling around in the muck?” Jordan asked.

Macy cocked her eyebrows. “You understand what I’m saying. You’re a gifted artist, Jordan, and you’re never happier than when you’re painting. So what if you don’t get to live on the top floor of a high-rise apartment or drive an eighty-thousand-dollar car; wouldn’t you be better off doing what you love?”

Jordan tried to shrug off her annoyance.

So much for a quick aside…

Macy had a way of oversimplifying things and then occasionally caging them in the most unattractive way possible, even though she meant well. “First of all,” Jordan said, “I live in the high-rise apartment because I love the view of the sunset over the mountains, and I’ve earned it.” She winked conspiratorially. “It’s an artist’s thing. And I love my car because I love my car, not because of the price tag. And besides, I’m not married to any of those material things. What I am married to is having some sort of security and stability in my life, knowing that I can take care of myself, even past retirement.”