The Singles Table (Marriage Game #3)(29)

His brain was still stuck on the severed fingers. “So your story about the Mafia boyfriend was all true?”

“I wasn’t about to lie to the senior partner of one of the biggest firms in the city.” She scribbled something on her clipboard.

“What did you write?” Curious, he tried to peer over her shoulder, and she turned away.

“I wrote down that you are lacking in business sense.” She lifted an admonishing eyebrow. “There’s no point burning bridges. I might want to work at Lucia’s firm someday. Maybe she’ll have a case to send my way, or vice versa. In any event, lies are bad. They come back to bite you in the ass. Remember that.”

Jay was fairly certain he would remember every single moment of the last twenty minutes for the rest of his life. And they had another two hours and twenty-five minutes of their allotted appointment time to spend together. He felt a curious sensation in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt since he was boy on Christmas Eve. It took him a moment to identify it as excitement.

“Would you like to come in and see my office?” He stepped to the side to allow her to pass.

“Actually, I’d like to see your restroom.”

Puzzled, he frowned. “What could you possibly learn about me in the restroom?”

“I would find out whether or not you provide toilets for your guests who need to pee.”

Mortified by his misstep, he directed her to the restroom and returned to his office. He had only just finished checking his e-mails when Zara walked in the door. “So, this is how the other half lives.”

“I don’t live here,” he said. “I work here.”

“Not according to your staff. They say you’re here all hours of the day and night and also on the weekends. They also said that your couch has a pullout bed for quick naps, and that you have extra suits and ties in your wardrobe, and folded shirts in your desk drawer. No one mentioned boxers but I do hope you have a fresh supply so you don’t have to reuse the same pair.”

He gave an affronted sniff. “Certainly not.”

Zara wrote on her clipboard and again his curiosity was piqued. “Now what are you writing?”

“You’re very nosy. I’m going write that down after I finish making a note to find someone for you who doesn’t require much time and attention. Recreation and social time are clearly not a priority in your life. The human equivalent of a succulent would be best.”

Jay leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “You want to match me up with a succulent?”

“A human succulent. Prickly. Resilient. Able to survive hot climates, cold temperaments, and emotional drought. Sprinkle a few e-mails on her, maybe buy her a lunch, and that should keep her going through the long cold months.”

“You think I’m hot,” he said, his voice smug. For some reason her opinion mattered to him, all the negativity aside.

“You know you are or you wouldn’t be puffing out your chest.” She made another note and looked up just as he opened his mouth. “Don’t even ask.”

“What’s next?” Jay inquired. The time was going far too quickly. “What else do you need to see to get to know me?”

“Your apartment was on my list but now that I see your office with its minimalist vibe, your painfully tidy desk, and lack of personal items, I’ll just ask: Is your apartment sparsely furnished with only the essentials—I’m talking couch, coffee table, maybe a chair, TV, bed, dresser, kitchen table, and chairs?”

“Yes.”

“No paintings on the walls, decor, ornaments, books, throw pillows, blankets, pictures, statues, magazines, newspapers, signs of life, or anything that might reflect your personality, such as it is?”

Jay shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No. I don’t spend a lot of time there. It’s just mainly to sleep.”

“Good. Then we don’t need to waste time visiting your place,” she said. “I’m in your head, Jay. I’m walking all around in there. Another day or two and I’ll know you as well as I know myself.”

His stomach tightened at the thought of Zara breaching his walls and seeing what lay beneath. Would she still want to find him a match when she found out he was responsible for the deaths of twelve men? And what about the nightmares? There was a reason he never asked his hookups to spend the night.

“I think we should go for a stroll.” She walked slowly around the room, inspecting the abstract pictures on the walls—he’d left the decor to the company’s interior designer. “I’d like to see how you interact with the common people.”

“They’re just people. Same as me.”

Zara pulled open his closet door and peered inside. “What are these?”

Jay shut down his computer and crossed the room to see what had caught her attention.

“Company uniform. Elias and I used to work every event, but after we expanded nationally, we hired a local team so we could focus on running the business.”

“You get plus marks for that.” Zara smiled. “Women love a man in uniform.”

Did she love a man in uniform? The question sneaked into his brain like the paparazzi sneaked into the celebrity events J-Tech was hired to protect.

“Do you still have your uniform from when you were in service?” She closed the door and made another note on her clipboard. “I asked around about you at the wedding. Eight years in the air force. Multiple combat deployments in Iraq and Afghanistan. Decorated combat search-and-rescue pilot and—”