That narrative didn’t begin to cover the financial and emotional hardship of her contentious divorce. She’d made the mistake of thinking Tomas would behave like a grown-up and had moved out of the house immediately. Afterward, she’d discovered what a disadvantage it put her at to vacate their shared residence. She’d just wanted him to sign the paperwork and sever their ties. Only later did she realize how shortsighted she’d been to trust that Tomas would be fair.

“I’m sorry to hear about the divorce.” The empathy in Gage’s voice was real enough. His gaze flicked over her as he took a sip of his drink and returned the glass to the window ledge. Then his tone changed. “But there are only a million ways for one of the sharpest women I know to make a living. Why choose to upend other people’s lives to make a buck?”

“I won’t thank you for a backhanded compliment intended to make me feel guilty about my job.” Why she took it was none of his business. Although if ever there was a time in her life for work that allowed her an outlet for her disillusionment and bitterness, this was it. “For what it’s worth, I like to seek out targets for my work that deserve public censure.”

“You can’t possibly be suggesting that I fall into that category,” he replied, displeasure in his voice.

Gage Striker was a man who’d never known a moment’s doubt. A man who wouldn’t know how it felt to have the world think the worst of him. To have to fight for respectability.

She skirted around his comment, not ready to cross swords with him directly.

Yet.

“I was thinking more of Alonzo Salazar, whose tell-all book ruined lives. The man profited from real people’s heartbreak.” She shifted on the leather sofa to face Gage more directly and to retrieve her drink. The silk of her dress’s skirt swished against her calves, the velvet ruffle at the hem trailing over her foot as she crossed her legs.

Gage followed her movements with his gaze, making her far too aware of herself.

Of him.

“And yet it just so happens that pursuing the Alonzo Salazar story brought you to my doorstep.” He lowered his voice as he leaned closer. “That feels a little too convenient to be coincidence, doesn’t it?”

To put off answering, she sipped the bourbon, letting the flavors play over her tongue. A hint of caramel. A touch of smoke as she swallowed.

And then, there it was. The afterburn in her throat with a hint of cherry. The scent of leather. The flavor of the last kiss she remembered sharing with Gage.