About That Fling (4 page)

“Discretion is my middle name,” he said. “Let’s go to the conference room.”

They walked in silence down the hall and around a corner to a narrow corridor. Kendall paused at a blue door, hand on the knob. She turned back to Adam and offered a small smile.

“You ready for this?”

Adam nodded. “Let’s get this party started.”

She gave a weak smile, then turned the knob and pushed into the room. Adam was three steps behind her, his eyes scanning the room for familiar faces. He noticed a thin man wearing a blue suit and a dark scowl, and Adam tried to smile at him. The man looked startled, then gave a stiff smile in return.

His gaze moved next to a man and a woman in blue hospital scrubs with arms folded over their chests. Defensive posture, nothing unexpected. Adam smiled at them, too, and they nodded in greeting. A man in khakis beside them offered the first real smile Adam had seen. Bolstered by that, Adam slid his gaze to the corner of the room where two women sat conferring over a stack of paperwork. The brunette had glossy hair that fell over her face, while the redhead had something vaguely familiar about her posture.

About the freckles on her arms and the gold pendant around her neck.

A family heirloom.

She’d worn it eight years ago on their wedding day.

Adam froze. All the blood drained from his head, and he heard it rushing past his ears. His hands went clammy, his mouth felt dry, and he gripped the back of a chair to keep from falling over.

Amelia looked up at him, her expression stunned and blank.

The other woman followed suit, her blue eyes locking with his and flashing shock, then horror.

Those same blue eyes he’d seen flash with pleasure two nights ago.

Adam opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

International terrorist.

Supermodel.

Aromatherapy expert.

And a member of the bargaining team I just flew 2,100 miles to assist.

Adam took a shaky breath and stepped forward, hand extended to his ex-wife, brain locked on the woman whose perfume still lingered on his hotel pillow.

C
hapte
r
T
hree

“I don’t understand,” Amelia said, folding her arms over her chest the instant they were alone together in the hall.

The second his ex-wife had recognized him, she’d asked for a few minutes alone with the mediator, hustling Adam out of the room before Jenna or the rest of the bargaining team could do more than offer bewildered nods.

Now, Amelia stood staring at him with a frustration as familiar to Adam as the hives he got when his mother visited. He clenched his fists, willing himself not to speak until he felt calm.

It could be awhile.

“How the hell could you
not
know I worked here?” she demanded.

“Well gee, Amelia, maybe because I moved on with my life and don’t spend a lot of time worrying about what you’re doing with yours,” he began, then regretted the immature snap in his voice. Christ, she always brought it out in him.

No one can make you behave a certain way,
he reminded himself, repeating the words he’d uttered to so many people locked in contentious relations.
You’re the only one who controls your response to someone.

Fuck you,
he told himself, but swallowed and tried again. “Look, I had no idea you worked here,” he said. “I heard you moved west, but that’s all I knew.”

“It’s my
field
, Adam—hospital administration. Wouldn’t you at least check?”

“There are nearly six thousand hospitals in America, Amelia. How the hell could I have known you’d chosen to relocate to one halfway across the country with a brand-new HR manager who just happened to contact me out of the blue?”

“Mia,” she said, her voice softer this time. “I go by Mia now. I started using my nickname after I moved to Portland.” She sighed. “You’re right, what are the odds? Still, you could have asked around.”

“Honestly, I never gave you a second thought.”

It. Gave
it
a second thought.

That’s what he’d meant to say, not to make it personal, and it wasn’t true anyway. Hell, he’d wanted it to be, especially in those early months after she’d moved out. He wanted to be the sort of guy who moved on easily, who could dismiss his ex-wife without a second thought, writing her off as a cheater and a liar and a woman who’d cut and run at the first sign of relationship trouble.

But he knew it wasn’t as simple as the stories he told himself or told the buddies who goaded him for details over beers at the pub. He didn’t want to hate her—not exactly—but he didn’t want to deal with her again. Not ever.

But here she was now with her brown eyes brimming with indignation, the freckles across her nose as familiar as the back of his own hand. He didn’t love her, but he couldn’t muster up the anger to hate her, either.

He cleared his throat. “So you go by Mia now. Mia Dawson?”

Her expression softened again. She nodded. “I got married. Mark and I—” she swallowed. “Yes.”

“Congratulations.” Adam let his eyes drop to her abdomen, to the evidence that she’d not only changed her stance on taking a man’s name, but on having his child.

His child. Not yours.

That shouldn’t bother him, either. Hell, he never even wanted kids, and he wasn’t some caveman intent on claiming his woman or planting his seed. Still, something gnawed at his gut and made him straighten a little so his knuckles didn’t drag on the floor.

“Congratulations on the marriage and on the pregnancy,” he said. “Both seem to agree with you. You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” Amelia—Mia—said, her eyes shimmering a little. Adam watched her throat as she swallowed. “I’m sorry, Adam.”

He shook his head, not sure what she was apologizing for this time, but knowing it didn’t matter anymore. They’d both said the words so many times, they might as well have been speaking Swahili.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said. “Look, I’ll give up the contract. I can recommend someone else. It might take a few weeks, but I can explain the conflict of interest and step back quietly.”

Mia seemed to consider that, then shook her head. “No. I don’t want to be the reason you give up a job.”

“It’s okay, really—”

“No. I should have done my homework and figured out who the mediator would be. I knew you’d changed careers, but I never even considered it could be you.” She shook her head and gave a sad little laugh. “What are the odds?”

“You knew I’d gone into counseling and mediation?” He wasn’t sure why that surprised him, but it did.

Mia nodded and bit her lip. “Of course. I kept tabs on you. For a while, anyway. I wanted to make sure you were okay after—well, after everything.”

“I’m okay.” His voice sounded certain, and he was grateful for that. “I’m great, actually.”

Mia gave him a small smile, then shook her head. “Why the hell couldn’t you Facebook-stalk me like any other self-respecting ex?”

He allowed himself a faint smile in return and shrugged. “Sorry. Not my style.”

“You’re right, of course. Tuning in to other people’s lives and interests was never really your thing.”

He couldn’t tell if she meant it as a jab, and a small flare of anger flickered in his lizard brain, that pesky, primitive amygdala that controlled emotional responses. He opened his mouth to retort, then stopped. Not this time. That was the old Adam, the one who clung to resentments and fought back even when there was no battle to be had.

The new Adam was self-aware, dammit. The new Adam listened with empathy and compassion and paid attention to others. Hell, the new Adam did spontaneous things like eating ice cream for dinner and skydiving and having one-night stands.

Okay, so it was just
one
one-night stand, and even that was in question since he was desperate to see her again.
Jenna.
God, what was she thinking right now? He’d seen the look of dread on her face when Mia whisked him from the room, but there’d been no chance to reassure her or even offer an apologetic smile. How the hell had he messed this up so badly?

“Look, it really might be best if I recuse myself here,” he said. “Conflict of interest and all that.”

Mia shook her head and rested a hand on her belly. “No. Look, I read an article about your work last fall. You’re practically famous. You have one of the best success rates of any corporate mediator in the country. This organization is in serious trouble, Adam. They need you.”

A stupid flash of pride surged through him, and he tried to remember if Amelia had ever said anything close to “I’m proud of you” in the six years they’d been married.

“Isn’t there a policy on fraternization among employees?” he asked. “I thought I read something in the handbook.”

“Belmont has strict policies about dating between people who work in the same department, but there are no rules about people who used to be married. Not that I know of, anyway.”

“Probably not a situation that comes up a whole lot. Still, I could see this creating a conflict. What if a member of the bargaining unit decides to refuse a contract negotiated by a mediator formerly married to a team member?”

Mia bit her lip. “How about this—we go back in there and lay it out on the table for the team and see how they want to proceed.”

“Lay what out, exactly?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down at the floor. “Not all the dirty details, of course—that’s not necessary. Besides, Belmont tends to be pretty puritanical when it comes to the conduct of its administrators.”

“I see,” he said, squelching the flicker of annoyance welling in his chest.

“But we explain the mix-up, the fact that we’re a divorced couple who moved on with our lives but that we feel confident we can all proceed here with the utmost professionalism and detachment. I can say that,” she said, lifting her eyes to meet his again. “Can you?”

Adam studied her, taking a moment to gauge his own responses to his ex-wife. His pulse felt normal, his palms weren’t sweaty, and while he didn’t particularly like the idea of dealing with Amelia—with
Mia
—he felt confident about the job. About himself.

About the prospect of working with Jenna.

Christ.

He nodded once, then turned back toward the boardroom. “Let’s go.”

Jenna slipped between a rack of crotchless panties and a display of leather paddles, her eyes on the DVD shelf up ahead. She just needed to stay focused on the goal, on grabbing the merchandise, plunking down the cash, and getting the hell out of here before anyone saw her.

“Jenna?”

She whirled around. “Adam?” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “What are the odds? Seriously, what the hell are the odds?”

“Relax, I came here to find you.”

Jenna opened her eyes and frowned. “That doesn’t make it any less creepy. In fact, that makes it a lot more creepy. Creepier. Whatever. Are you stalking me?”

Her voice was a little louder than she meant it to be, and the clerk glanced over a display of giant dildos to regard her with curiosity.

“I’m not stalking you, but I do need to talk to you,” he said, lowering his voice. “I tried to call. We didn’t get a chance to talk in today’s meeting, and I’m assuming from your lack of objection to my contract that you wanted to keep our relationship a secret?”

Jenna grimaced at the word
relationship,
or maybe it was their surroundings. Could there be a more awkward place to have this conversation?

She forced herself to stop gritting her teeth. “Pardon me if I didn’t stand up in the meeting and volunteer the fact that I accidentally slept with my best friend’s ex-husband, who oh-by-the-way happens to be the corporate mediator hired by my employer.”

The clerk glanced over again, and Jenna realized her voice had risen above the whisper she’d been aiming for. She grabbed Adam by the arm and tried to push him toward the door. “You have to leave. How did you find me here, anyway?”

“Your aunt answered your phone when I called.”

“Shit, I must have left it at the house. I’ve told her not to answer it. What did she say?”

“She told me where you’d be.” He grinned—that stupid, sexy, boyish grin—and Jenna felt her traitorous heart lurch in her chest. “This is the same aunt who told you to sleep with me?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Also the same aunt who sent me on an errand to a goddamn adult pleasure store. Would you just go? Please?”

She pushed him again, which was a mistake. Her palm remembered the contour of muscle in his arm, the swell of his bicep, and she shuddered a little with the pleasure of touching him. Now he was smiling down at her in earnest.

“Your aunt sends you to a porn store on an errand? Now I’ve gotta hear this story. Come on, meet me somewhere for a drink. I’ll buy you a glass of wine and we’ll talk through this like professional adults.”

“No! We can’t be seen in public together.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Fine. We can go back to my hotel.”

“Definitely not. I know what happens there.”

“What happens there, Jenna?”

His tone was teasing, and she felt her cheeks grow warmer. She didn’t answer, mostly because she was afraid she might beg him to do it to her again.

“Look, we need to talk,” Adam said. “If you’re worried about being seen, I think this is a pretty unlikely place to run into your colleagues.”

“We are not having this conversation next to the bondage aisle at a porn store,” she hissed.

“You’re thinking the vibrator section would be better?”

Jenna bit her lip, then grabbed his arm again. “Come on,” she said, tugging him toward the bank of adult arcade booths at the back of the shop. “These things must be made for privacy.” She grabbed the door of the booth at the far end and yanked it open with more force than necessary.

“You’re seriously dragging me into a porn booth?” he asked, but didn’t resist as she tugged him inside and closed the door. She flipped the lock with shaking hands and turned to look at him.

The space was dark and small, and Jenna was afraid to touch the rickety folding chair leaning up against the wall. A television screen shone lifeless on one wall, and the red light overhead made the air look smoky.