Wanted: A Bad Boy Romance (3 page)

“Jordana Perry,” I say, clenching
the leather strap of my purse as I report for the first day of my internship.
There’s a glass wall between me and the office and a little round cut out to
speak through. Signs are plastered all over, forbidding people from using their
cell phones and bringing food and water into the waiting area. “I’m interning
with Parole Officer Kent Sorensen.”

The receptionist picks up her
phone and dials an extension, muttering into the receiver and hanging up.
“He’ll be out to get you shortly. You can have a seat over there.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” I find a spot
next to a guy my age, dressed in business casual clothes with a fresh haircut
and polished dress shoes. He carries a portfolio with him and a laptop case.

Four years studying criminal justice
would tell me not to judge a book by its cover, but he clearly doesn’t look
like a typical offender.

“You an intern too?” He breaks
the silence with a warm smile and a smooth cadence in his voice.

I nod. “Jordana Perry.”

“Thad McHenry.” He shakes my hand,
his mouth arching up in the corner and showing off a deep dimple centered in
his cheek. The starched collar of his button down shirt peeks out from a navy
cashmere sweater. This guy walked off the page of a J. Crew catalog and decided
he wanted to work with criminals. “I’m interning with Gabriela Mercado.”

“I’ll be working with Kent
Sorensen,” I say.

Thad’s face winces with a smile.
“You’re lucky. He was my first pick. I’ve heard everyone who works with him is
offered a job. He’s well connected. Makes things happen.”

“I’m sure Gabriela is just as
good.”

Thad shakes his head, his lips
holding a hard line. “She’s new. You’ll be set with Kent. He’ll have a job
lined up for you before you graduate.”

“We’ll see.” I pick at my nails,
listening to the echo of the clock above us as each second ticks by.

The big iron door next to the
reception area clicks and buzzes before flinging open and revealing a man who’s
as wide as he is tall.

“Jordana Perry.” He says my name
as if he’s calling out for a client. His beady eyes squint under the glare of
the industrial fluorescent lighting. Our eyes meet, and he motions for me to
follow him.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” I extend
my hand as I walk toward him. He towers over me, pausing before he shakes mine.
Nothing about Kent is warm or fuzzy or gives me any kind of inkling that this
semester is going to be smooth sailing.

But they say he’s good. I’ve
heard from several sources that if Kent loves you, you’re as good as hired
after graduation.

I can do this.

Kent motions for me to follow him
again as he turns and leads us down a long, gray hallway.

It smells of nothing. Sterile.
Bland.

He stops short halfway down,
leaning in to an employee break room and grabbing a stale cherry donut from an
open box before shoving half of it in his mouth, crumbs sticking into the
prickly hairs of his mustached mouth.

He’s shaped like an upside down
pear, his upper half neatly tucked into and spilling over his khakis. There’s a
slight gimp in his stride, like he’s got a bad knee, but he stops abruptly
again in the doorway of an office where another man types mindlessly into a
computer.

“Morning, John,” Kent says,
leaning in the doorway like he’s got all the time in the world.

The other man glances up,
scooting away from his computer and leaning back in his seat. “Kent. How was
your weekend? You ever get out of going to that wedding?”

“Ah, you know how the wife is,”
Kent says with a condescending laugh. “Didn’t have an ice cube’s chance in
hell.”

“Open bar at least?” the other
guy asks, wearing a smile and clinging onto Kent’s every word.

I really don’t get it.

“You know it.” Kent shoots the
guy a wink and turns to head out, waving into every office we pass by. Everyone
smiles and waves
back,
as if they’re honored he took
the time to acknowledge him.

Again.

I don’t get it.

His office is the last one on the
left,
easily twice as large as the others I’ve seen.
Two picture windows cover the far wall and the back of his desk is covered in
various awards and plaques bearing his name.

Either he kisses a lot of ass or
he’s been here a really long time.

Probably both.

Kent rakes his hand across the
top of his smooth,
bald head
as he scrutinizes me.
“You attend Southern State, right?”

“Sure do.”

“That’s my alma mater.” He points
to two college degrees framed and matted on the wall behind me. “Go Bob Cats.”

I smile. “It’s a great school,
sir. I’ll miss it when I’m done.”

“Not going to go back for your
master’s degree?”

“Not quite sure yet, sir.”

“Aw, hell, don’t call me ‘sir.’
You can call me Kent, just like everyone else.” He doesn’t smile or soften his
delivery. I get the feeling he’s still trying to decide if he likes me yet or
not, which isn’t exactly fair since we’ve only just met.

“Sure. Kent.”

His arms fold across his chest,
resting atop his bulbous belly as his head cocks to the side. “You from around
here?”

“Born and raised. My mother
teaches at the local Christian college.”

“And your dad?”

My breath caught in my chest. I
didn’t like speaking about him, at least not casually. He left the day after my
eighth birthday, and I haven’t seen him since. I don’t tend to let that define
me, but I also don’t tend to offer that information freely.

“He’s a doctor,” I say, referring
to Lewis. He’s the closest thing I have to a father right now, and even that’s
a huge stretch. “Surgeon actually.”

“Nice, nice.” Kent doesn’t pry,
and I breathe a soft sigh of relief. “So today is basically just a matter of
showing you around, teaching you how to use the copy machine, getting you a
computer sign on. Oh, you’ll need to get NCIC certified so you can access the
database we work with.”

He picks up his phone and punches
in some keys with his pudgy fingers. I hear a woman answer on the other end and
his lips arch into a flirty smile.

Gross.

“Hey, Caroline,” he says. “I’ve
got my intern here, uh, Jordan, and she’s ready for the office tour. You got a
minute?”

Pause.

“Alrighty,” he says, pushing a
huge smile into his tone. “I’ll send her down.” He hangs up. “Caroline is
waiting for you. Room thirty-four. That’s them main office where you checked
in.”

“And after this?” I ask, heading
toward the door.

“NCIC should take all day,” he
says, chewing on his lower lip as he stares at the wall like he’s deep in
thought. His head nods from one side to the other. “Yeah, I probably won’t see
you the rest of the day. I’ll see you tomorrow though.”

He scoots his chair up to his
computer.

Just like that, he’s done with
me.

Well, this is just great.

Sure glad I got to intern with
the best.

It’s a load of fucking shit is
what it is.

I slap a grateful smile on my
face and trek down the hall to find Caroline, bumping into Thad on my way.

“You going to get the grand
tour?” he asks.

“That and NCIC certification,” I
say. “Are we the only two interns here?”

Thad nods. “In this district and
this building, yes.”

We walk into room thirty-four,
where a middle-aged blonde woman already waits for us. A file folder is pressed
against her chest along with a set of dangling keys in her grip.

“Are we ready?” she asks with a
smile. Her teeth are coffee-stained, but her red lips distract from that.

Thad and I nod, and he slips one
hand into his pocket all cool and casual-like. I wonder if we can trade
probation officers. I bet Gabriela would be ten times better than Kent.

Anyone would be ten times better
than Kent.

Caroline walks us around the
small office, telling us all about the copy machine and showing us how to
collate, like I’m going to remember that five minutes from now. She then leads
us down the same dingy, gray hallway, showing us where the break room is and
the conference room.

A small classroom at the far end
of the hall houses a whiteboard and several tables and chairs. She pops a video
into the DVD player and hands us pens and paper, going over instructions.

We’re to watch some two-hour
video and take quizzes. She’ll be back to check on us, and then the NCIC instructor
will be in to take us down to a computer station.

I take a seat by the window. The
classroom is dark and musty, and I could easily fall asleep listening to the
drone of the video instructor’s voice as he talks about privacy laws and
national databases.

“You all set?” Caroline asks,
eyebrows
raised
.

We nod, and the second she flits
out the door Thad scoots closer to me. He pulls his hand from his pocket and
deposits a hard candy on the desk in front of me. Some kind of caramel thing
covered in gold wrapping.

“What’s this?” I pick it up,
twisting the plastic ends.

“Stole it from Gabriela’s desk.
She’s a candy junkie. Bowls of candy all over the place.”

I pop it into my mouth, flicking
my tongue around the sugary sweetness. I bet Gabriela has unicorns and rainbows
and fluffy kittens in her office too.

I so wish we could trade.

“Thanks,” I say.

Thad smiles, our eyes catching
for a second. My mind entertains my attraction toward him, but only for a brief
moment. I didn’t come here to get a
boyfriend,
I came
here for an internship.

But if I were looking…

Thad would be awfully convenient.

He’s like the kind of guy you
can’t help but be instantly attracted to because he’s charming in a benign sort
of way and wears a dimpled smile and irons his shirt. He’s the kind of guy you
can take home to your mother and she won’t be able to wipe that silly grin off
her face until he leaves.

God, my mother would love this
guy.

But again, I’m not here for that.

I’m 99% sure no part of me
desires to remotely date Thad McHenry.

“Why are you looking at me like
that?” I ask, feeling the weight of his steely blue gaze as I’m attempting to
pay attention to the God-awful video.

“You’re really beautiful,” he
says.

Left field.

Was not expecting that.

At all.

“Shouldn’t we be watching the
video?” I point my pen toward the screen in the front of the classroom.

He pulls his stare off me slowly,
peeling it really, and the room grows ten degrees hotter. Minutes tick by
slowly, one by one, until I feel him looking at me again.

“What now?” I bite the end of my
pen in an attempt to stifle a smile. It feels good to be admired, but I can’t
allow myself to cave into these shallow emotions. It would serve me no purpose
to distract myself with someone like Thad when I’m here to build a future for
myself.

“You want to get dinner tonight?”

“Are you asking me on a date,
Thad?” I can’t look at him.

I can’t make eye contact.

Do. Not. Engage.

“Do you want it to be a date?” he
asks.

Well played.

“How do you know I don’t have a
boyfriend?”

“I don’t.” His confidence doesn’t
waver, not even for a second. I find that to be both charming and unnerving.
“Do you?”

I glance down at my paper and
attempt to scribble some notes, but nothing makes sense. I can hardly
comprehend what the video instructor is saying right now. My body burns from
the scorch of his intense stare.

“Jordana.” The way he says my
name commands my attention. My eyes hesitate before drawing toward his gaze and
lingering for a moment.

“Yes.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” I reply. “Not in the market
for one either.”

“Am I not your type?”

I offer a half-smile. Thad is
absolutely my type. Clean-cut. Well groomed. Educated. We even share the same
major.

Everything about us says we
belong together.

“That’s irrelevant,” I say,
holding my ground and clinging to it with everything I have. “I’m not looking
to date anyone right now.”

“That’s what you think.”

“Excuse me?” I pretend to scoff,
but I’m secretly amused by his candor.

Slightly confused too, because I
can feel him weakening my resolve.