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hand, she grabbed a chair, swung it around, then straddled it
to face him. "This I've got to hear. Jack Daniels,
apologizing? It can't be."
"Eat your pizza."
"I'm eating, I'm eating." And she was, making quick work
of devouring the second large slice. "Tell me again."
He grimaced at her. "You don't have to make a big ceremony
out of it."
"Sure I do. Simply because you usually don't do anything
that requires an apology." She plucked a napkin from the top
of the pizza box, her eyes narrowing slightly. "So tell me,
Jack...what, exactly, are you apologizing for?"
"For leaving here the way I did last night." He stared at
his hands rather than at her. The truth was he'd been
tortured ever since he'd walked out her door twenty-four
hours ago. He'd been callous and cold and so outside his
usual mode of operation that it had taken him a while to
convince himself he'd done it.
"I see," she said, nodding. She took another long pull
from the beer bottle. Jack ignored the movement, suddenly
craving a bit of the alcohol himself, although beer had never
been his drink of choice. She waved the bottle. "So the other
thing...that still stands?"
Jack felt a grin coming on. "The no sex thing?" He
mimicked her nodding. ' 'Oh, yes. Definitely still on."
Her nodding turned to shaking. "I don't get you, Jack. I
really don't." She pointed at him with the hand holding the
bottle. "Sometimes I think I should be doing a documentary
about you, you know, if just so I can get to know you
better."
He blinked at her odd statement. "You know me better than
anyone else on Earth."
"Do I? Because I don't feel like I do."
Jack thought about it for a minute. Okay, so he didn't
like to do a whole lot of talking about himself. His parents
and family? Brief details in any conversation. His alcohol
addiction? A Cliffs Notes. How he filled his days? Nobody's
business but his own.
He scratched his neck then smoothed down the back of his
hair. "Tell me how you don't think you know me and I'll point
out how you do."
She considered him for a time before responding. "Does
that mean you'll answer any question I ask? Or that you'll
avoid answering any of my questions?"
He merely grinned.
She rolled her eyes and sighed, the pizza and the beer
forgotten as she crossed her arms on top of the back of the
chair then rested her chin on them. "Hmm...okay, I'll bite."
She gestured toward the papers littering the floor. "I've hit
a stone wall here, anyway."
Jack looked around, noticing the information on The Red
Gardenia laid out in Mallory's normal or- ganized chaotic
way at his feet. "Was your new friend able to shed any light
on the case?"
"Coco? No. And don't try to change the subject."
Jack leaned back in the sofa and crossed his arms over his
chest. "So ask your question already."
"Question? As in one? Singular?"
He nodded. "Let's start with one and see where that takes
us."
"Cagey."
"Careful."
"Why?"
He raised a brow. "Is that your question?"
"Is 'why?' my question?"
"Uh-huh."
She rubbed her chin with her thumb. "Actually it is." She
sat up a bit. "Why are you off-putting, quiet, evasive and
reluctant to mention anything about your life?"
He lifted his other brow to join the first. "That's one
question?"
She smiled. "That's a trademark Mallory Woodruff
question."
"Well, then, far be it from me to avoid it then."
He dropped his arms so that they lay more on his stomach
than his chest. Boomer yawned then stretched out at Mallory's
feet, the little traitor. It was almost as if he were saying,
"Trust me, the answer's not all that interesting."
"Well?" Mallory said.
"Give a guy a second to think of a response."
"You had a second."
He leaned forward. "Okay. First of all, I don't happen to
think that I'm off-putting, quiet, evasive or...what was the
other one?"
"Reluctant to mention anything about your life," she
reminded him.
"Ah. Well, that one...maybe."
"Why?"
"Admitting that I am isn't enough?"
Her smile widened. "Nope."
"Pity."
He drew in a deep breath then slowly exhaled. "Maybe
because there really isn't anything about my life worth
sharing."
"Mmm. Maybe. Then again, maybe not." She rested her cheek
against her forearm and he could tell she was getting tired.
Likely from not having eaten much of anything all day and now
gorging until her stomach was about to pop. ' 'Tell me how
you pass your day."
"Easy. Driving you around since your car broke down."
"When you're not driving me around."
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