table, Griffin reined in the urge to laugh.
“I don't like compliments.”
Griffin let go of the reins.
“What? That's just… What does that mean? If I say - hey, Jim, nice shoes, that's a problem?”
“I don't trust them.”
“Why?”
“I don't know. I just don't.”
“You must be fun at parties.”
“I don't go to parties.”
Griffin rolled his eyes. “No parties, no compliments. Suddenly I'm understanding the lack of dating.”
Jim's shoulders went up around his ears, and his eyes turned dark in the dim light. Griffin thought he might have to readjust himself under the table.
“Who said I don't date?”
“An educated guess.”
“Do you date?”
“Occasionally.” When Daisy made him.
Jim seemed stymied. He was clearly buying time by taking a sip of his coffee; Griffin enjoyed the tense silence.
Jim in control was hot. Jim slightly off-kilter was borderline illegal.
“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” Jim all but threw in an “aha” as punctuation.
“Don't want one,” Griffin said breezily.
“Ever?”
Love & Loyalty
47
“I want the right one.”
“Lofty.” Jim shook his head. “Unrealistic.”
“To want to date the right person? How is that unrealistic? I'm sure you know people who are happy with each other.”
“A few.”
“Okay—so clearly they've found the right person. Why don't you think I can?”
“I don't mean you can't.”
“You said…”
“I just meant it's hard to meet people, let alone the right person.” Griffin reached into his pocket and pulled out his BlackBerry. “Hang on, let me write down these pearls of wisdom. I'll use it for my next romantic comedy.”
Jim made a face and Griffin laughed. Loudly. God, maybe he needed a cup of that coffee before he got loud drunk.
“You should try personal ads,” Griffin teased. “Video dating.”
“Shut up,” Jim mumbled, stirring his coffee again.
“Maybe it's the bottle of wine talking here, Detective Shea, but I can't believe you walk down the street and don't get propositioned like twenty times a day. If I took you to a party back in my neck of the woods…”
“I'd spend the whole time busting people for possession,” Jim finished.
“Hey…not the whole time.”
“You don't…”
Griffin pondered this. “Are you going to narc me out for smoking a joint at Sundance last year?”
“I'll let it go this time,” Jim said drily.
“Then I'm clean. I like my wine, I like my vodka tonics, I like the occasional beer with my red meat. I don't do drugs, I don't smoke, I don't 48
Tere Michaels
jaywalk, and I only speed on the freeways where it is actually the law in Southern California.”
“You sound like a great guy. Why aren't you being propositioned twenty times a day?”
It was clearly the closest thing to flirting Detective Shea was capable of.
Griffin was delighted.
“Well.” Griffin pointed at his face. “Not exactly movie-star or male-model material, and where I live, that tends to help. Now, if I want to get laid, I just have to walk into a Starbucks and announce I'm a screenwriter. Then I have my pick of wannabes and head shots and sample scripts.” Jim frowned. “You're very… You look…” He huffed. “That's stupid.”
“What's stupid? I didn't say I was hideous. Hell, I'd probably do fine if I moved somewhere less attractive.”
“How are you going to find the right person if you think everyone is just trying to use you?”
Griffin had nothing. He wished for a cup of coffee. A spoon to stir it with.
“I think I liked it better when you were speaking in one-word sentences and glares,” he said finally, cracking a smile. “So what's your excuse?”
“I…” Jim paused, appearing to actually be thinking of an honest answer.
“I'm not good at it. I pick the wrong people, I say the wrong things. I'm better with…a few words, lots of glares.”
“No dinners out, too many late nights, birthdays all alone.” Griffin tapped his fingers on the dark
“I don't like compliments.”
Griffin let go of the reins.
“What? That's just… What does that mean? If I say - hey, Jim, nice shoes, that's a problem?”
“I don't trust them.”
“Why?”
“I don't know. I just don't.”
“You must be fun at parties.”
“I don't go to parties.”
Griffin rolled his eyes. “No parties, no compliments. Suddenly I'm understanding the lack of dating.”
Jim's shoulders went up around his ears, and his eyes turned dark in the dim light. Griffin thought he might have to readjust himself under the table.
“Who said I don't date?”
“An educated guess.”
“Do you date?”
“Occasionally.” When Daisy made him.
Jim seemed stymied. He was clearly buying time by taking a sip of his coffee; Griffin enjoyed the tense silence.
Jim in control was hot. Jim slightly off-kilter was borderline illegal.
“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” Jim all but threw in an “aha” as punctuation.
“Don't want one,” Griffin said breezily.
“Ever?”
Love & Loyalty
47
“I want the right one.”
“Lofty.” Jim shook his head. “Unrealistic.”
“To want to date the right person? How is that unrealistic? I'm sure you know people who are happy with each other.”
“A few.”
“Okay—so clearly they've found the right person. Why don't you think I can?”
“I don't mean you can't.”
“You said…”
“I just meant it's hard to meet people, let alone the right person.” Griffin reached into his pocket and pulled out his BlackBerry. “Hang on, let me write down these pearls of wisdom. I'll use it for my next romantic comedy.”
Jim made a face and Griffin laughed. Loudly. God, maybe he needed a cup of that coffee before he got loud drunk.
“You should try personal ads,” Griffin teased. “Video dating.”
“Shut up,” Jim mumbled, stirring his coffee again.
“Maybe it's the bottle of wine talking here, Detective Shea, but I can't believe you walk down the street and don't get propositioned like twenty times a day. If I took you to a party back in my neck of the woods…”
“I'd spend the whole time busting people for possession,” Jim finished.
“Hey…not the whole time.”
“You don't…”
Griffin pondered this. “Are you going to narc me out for smoking a joint at Sundance last year?”
“I'll let it go this time,” Jim said drily.
“Then I'm clean. I like my wine, I like my vodka tonics, I like the occasional beer with my red meat. I don't do drugs, I don't smoke, I don't 48
Tere Michaels
jaywalk, and I only speed on the freeways where it is actually the law in Southern California.”
“You sound like a great guy. Why aren't you being propositioned twenty times a day?”
It was clearly the closest thing to flirting Detective Shea was capable of.
Griffin was delighted.
“Well.” Griffin pointed at his face. “Not exactly movie-star or male-model material, and where I live, that tends to help. Now, if I want to get laid, I just have to walk into a Starbucks and announce I'm a screenwriter. Then I have my pick of wannabes and head shots and sample scripts.” Jim frowned. “You're very… You look…” He huffed. “That's stupid.”
“What's stupid? I didn't say I was hideous. Hell, I'd probably do fine if I moved somewhere less attractive.”
“How are you going to find the right person if you think everyone is just trying to use you?”
Griffin had nothing. He wished for a cup of coffee. A spoon to stir it with.
“I think I liked it better when you were speaking in one-word sentences and glares,” he said finally, cracking a smile. “So what's your excuse?”
“I…” Jim paused, appearing to actually be thinking of an honest answer.
“I'm not good at it. I pick the wrong people, I say the wrong things. I'm better with…a few words, lots of glares.”
“No dinners out, too many late nights, birthdays all alone.” Griffin tapped his fingers on the dark
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