The Darkness - Jason Pinter [53]
men, are you in, or are you worthless?"
Morgan stood up. He felt a surge of energy through his
veins, his skin felt like it was on fire. "I'm in," he said.
Within seconds, every other man in the room stood up
and joined him. Leonard's eyes met each recruit as they
pledged to be a part of this. Morgan looked at each one
of them, silently bet himself that he would outearn each
and every one of them. And he knew from the way their
eyes met his that they were thinking the exact same thing.
Morgan Isaacs smiled.
Let the games begin.
"No second chances," Leonard said. "I'll see the rest
of you on Monday."
21
Amanda had just settled down on Henry's couch with a
glass of Pinot Noir, and the first sip tasted better than
anything she'd eaten in weeks. She'd skipped dinner, but
hell, wine had nutrients, didn't it?
It had been one of those days that never wanted to end.
Her feet felt like they'd been trapped inside thimbles and
she needed something to take the edge off. She'd been
with a client at the office until nearly eight o'clock, and
Amanda had come to the pretty secure conclusion that
humans were not meant to wear high heels for twelve
straight hours. So by the time she got to his place, weary,
weak, her dogs barking like nobody's business, she
wrenched that cork from the bottle faster than Pamela
Anderson dropped her drawers around a rock star.
And while all those excuses were reason enough to
have a drink--whether or not she continued with the bottle
depended on several factors--another reason was Henry.
Things were going well. They'd endured more rocky
periods in their relationship than the next twenty couples
combined, and she fully believed they'd come out stronger than ever. She never doubted his love for her. Even
when that brain of his got in the way, which it often did,
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she knew it was only because he could be torn between
the right thing to do and the smart thing to do. It still surprised her how rarely those two choices were one and the
same.
Still, she'd learned a long time ago that trying to
change him was not only impossible, but defeated the
purpose and would undermine their entire relationship.
Henry was relentless. That was the bottom line, and God
did she love him for it. As much as her heart pounded
during the times where he scared her half to death with
his latest bit of reckless behavior, it was that full throttle
stopatnothingishness that made him a great reporter and
a great partner. Sure he did stupid stuff. He was a guy;
that was embedded in the DNA.
For every time he brought home flowers, he would
leave his underwear hanging from the bedpost. For every
time he said "I love you," he would chew with his mouth
open. But that's what made them so great. He wasn't
fake and didn't pretend to be perfect. Amanda had met
plenty of guys who did everything right: held the door
open for her, pulled her chair out at dinner, chewed with
their mouth closed. But these men were nothing but
painters, carpenters, covering up holes in the frame with
pretty wallpaper or a fresh coat of paint. Eventually the
hole would reveal the truth, and the facade would crumble. With Henry there was none of that. He wore his holes
proudly.
Still, she wondered when they might take the next step.
Amanda was never one of those girls who dreamed about
her wedding when she was six. She didn't name her unborn
children, or buy Modern Bride magazine. If love came, she
would deal with it then. For years, love to Amanda was like
taxes. You only thought about it when you had to.
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Yet Henry had changed that. Every so often she would
think about what he would look like in a tuxedo, and
thought about who would be her maid of honor. She caught
herself smiling at things she once found cheesy, and more
than once had felt that terror-and joy-filled moment of anticipation when she thought he might pop the question.
Yet she didn't want to rush him. Or rush herself. She
wasn't sure if she was ready to commit,