Ever since the rat bastard who broke her heart sixteen months earlier, she had sworn off men. But she could pretend with the best of them. Her readers thought she was worldly when it came to sex, except she knew better. Sure, she knew what she wanted, and she had lived out some of those fantasies with Tag because her stupid, naive heart convinced her much more cautious brain that it was ok.
It was definitely not ok.
“He’s scared.” Whisper’s words broke through her thoughts and pulled her back to the present.
“Nothing scares that man,” she explained to her friend. “He got what he wanted, and he must’ve realized I was falling too fast which he likely knew would happen.”
“You give him way too much credit,” Whisper commented as she refilled her own glass. “He’s only human and honey, there ain’t no man – or woman for that matter – who wouldn’t fall for you if given half a chance.”
It was McKenna’s turn to laugh. “They’re just curious to find out whether those pictures were airbrushed or not.”
When she looked up at Whisper, she noticed her friend was no longer smiling. Preparing herself for the tongue lashing she was about to receive, McKenna focused on her wine glass, turning it slowly on the granite countertop.
“Boss lady, I don’t know what happened to you, but I can assure you, when the world looks your way, they don’t see the mistakes of that young, naive eighteen year old girl. Hell, that was so long ago I doubt anyone even remembers it.”
Right. McKenna knew people remembered because she received emails day in and day out from men asking whether she was going to bare all in her magazine any time soon.
They remembered.
“Dreamy lawyer man is not like that,” Whisper added.
“He is so like that. His life revolves around sex. From the toys in his private room to the raunchy club he’s a member of, Tag lives and breathes sex.”
When McKenna looked up, Whisper was looking at her skeptically.
“You need to talk to him.”
McKenna broke eye contact and went back to twirling her glass. “I’m done talking. I’m done trying to help. He made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t need, nor does he want my help.”
“He might not, but the McCoy’s do,” Whisper argued. “They trust you, Mac. They’ve proven that. And you’d be smart not to let them or yourself down by letting one man’s insecurities drag you down.”
McKenna didn’t believe Tag had a single insecure bone in his entire body. He exuded confidence and self-assurance to the point she could practically taste it when she was around him. And truth be told, she had tried to inhale it at every opportunity, hoping, like hell, he could infuse her with just a fraction of his hard won control.
She failed.
“So, what’s next? Do we write an article to counter Stephen’s and Susan’s threat? Or do we sit back and let Samantha McCoy take a beating for being the woman she wants to be?”
McKenna didn’t like the idea of anyone hurting Samantha. Or any one of the people she had come to know over the last week. She didn’t want to turn her back on them, even if she risked having her heart smashed and smeared. She wasn’t that woman. She was stronger than that.
Glancing back up at Whisper, she smiled for the first time in the last couple of hours.
“No, I’m not going to let her take the fall. But, I’m going to need your help.”
Whisper clapped her hands like a little girl, grinning from ear to ear. “Gladly.”
Chapter Thirty One
Tag was an asshole. A stubborn asshole at that.
He knew it, and now McKenna knew it too.
Two incredibly long weeks had crawled by, and Tag hadn’t heard from her at all. Not that he had tried to contact her either. Because, well... because he’s a jackass.
The worst part about it all was that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Day, night, it didn’t matter. She constantly plagued his thoughts. On top of that, she was working diligently to help Sam and Logan out of the current situation they were in, although no one seemed to be making any headway.
Everyone was moving stoically forward while Tag felt like he was just sitting still. He had frequent meetings with both Sam and Logan, yet neither of them mentioned McKenna at all. He knew they were talking to her because he read the articles that came out each day. In fact, that was the first thing he did every morning. With a cup of coffee and his tablet computer, he sat at his kitchen table and consumed his caffeine almost as quickly as he consumed whatever she wrote.
It was making him fucking crazy.
And still he had no intentions of doing anything about it.