Jordan's eyes widened. "Ooh, that sounds very cloak and daggerish. How will I know who to get the keys from? Some sort of secret code word?"
"Don't worry. He'll find you."
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Jordan looked at Nick, and he gave her the same look right back.
"Are you expecting someone this morning?" he asked.
"No. Are you?"
Neither of them moved, and the doorbell rang again. Twice in quick succession.
"Whoever it is, it sounds like he or she isn't going away." Nick stood up and pulled his gun out of the harness at his calf. He tucked it into the back of his pants, where it was more accessible. "Stay close to me while I check this out."
Jordan gestured to the gun as she followed Nick to the front door. "Take it easy there, cowboy. I don't want you blowing a hole through some poor guy asking for donations for Greenpeace."
"Door-to-door solicitations when it's fifteen degrees outside?" Nick asked. "I don't think so."
The doorbell rang a third time.
Nick gestured to the door. "You have a library, a wine cellar, an espresso machine that looks like it could launch a space shuttle, and yet no peephole. Personal security isn't a priority for you?"
"I have another security measure that works just fine," Jordan retorted. "It's called an alarm system." Using the panel on the wall next to the door, she deactivated the security alarm before unlocking the deadbolt. She glanced over at Nick, who had moved to her side and stood behind the door.
He nodded.
Jordan opened the door and-
-Panicked.
Melinda stood on the doorstep, shivering. "Geez, took you long enough to answer. Let me in-it's freezing out here."
Before Jordan could say anything, Melinda brushed past her and stepped inside. As her friend unwrapped her scarf, Jordan peeked over her shoulder and saw Nick standing behind the door. He shrugged helplessly.
She leaned against the door, keeping it open so that she could block Melinda's view of Nick. Hopefully, whatever the reason behind this untimely visit, they could keep things short and quick. Without her moving an inch from that spot.
"So here's the question," Melinda led in. "Who's Tall, Dark, and Smoldering?"
Jordan gestured nonchalantly with her free hand, the one that didn't have a death grip on her front door. "I'll go with Gerard Butler in 300. Or that naked guy from the first Sex and the City movie."
Melinda pointed. "Good answers. But neither is correct today." She pulled a folded newspaper out of her oversized purse. "This just in from Anne Welch's Scene and Heard column in the Sun-Times, the weekend roundup." She read out loud from the paper. " 'Millionaire restaurateur Xander Eckhart's annual charity fund-raiser at uber-swanky restaurant and nightclub Bordeaux raised over a hundred thousand dollars for Children's Memorial Hospital and proved once again the place to be seen by Chicago's social elite.' "
She held up her finger for emphasis as she read the next part. " 'Gorgeously attired in an amethyst-colored backless dress, wine entrepreneur Jordan Rhodes, daughter of billionaire Grey Rhodes and sister of the illustrious Kyle Rhodes, who made headlines worldwide five months ago when he . . .'" Melinda cleared her throat. "Well, I think we can skip over that part, Twitter, prison, et cetera, et cetera. Ah, here we go: 'Ms. Rhodes attended the party with an unknown man who sources describe as tall, dark, and smoldering. Sources also say that the couple appeared quite close. Here's hoping, for all our sakes, that this Rhodes twin is luckier in love than her brother.' "
Melinda refolded the paper and stared expectantly at Jordan. "So I repeat: who is 'tall, dark, and smoldering'?"
Jordan swore to herself-potently vile, offensive curse words that undoubtedly were not in the vocabulary of most billionaire heiresses. She knew that Melinda would never, ever in a million years let this go until she had some answers. The jig was officially up.
She pushed the door closed, revealing Nick.
He grinned and held out his hand in introduction. "Nick Stanton."
"Interesting." Melinda's eyes went wide as she slowly shook his hand. "Melinda Jackson." Coming in at a flat five feet tall, she let her gaze travel up and up before she got to Nick's face. She seemed to take particular note of his unshaven jaw and casually untucked dress shirt.
She turned to Jordan with a grin that spoke volumes. Somebody got la-id. "Now I know why it took you so long to get to the door."
"Nice, Mel. We were simply . . ." Jordan looked at Nick for help.
"Trying to start her espresso machine," he offered.
Melinda raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you kids call it nowadays?"
"Did you come here this morning solely to harass me about my date?" Jordan asked.
"Actually, after reading the paper, I came over to drag you out to brunch. I didn't realize the date was still going. So tell me all about yourself, Nick. I'm eager for the details, since Jordan is being so circumspect these days."
Nick opened his mouth, but Jordan promptly cut him off. She had to set some rules here: no lies, or as few as possible, to her friends and family. "Actually, Mel, we'll have to take a rain check on the meet and greet. Nick and I were just about to run out. Can I call you later?"
Melinda studied her suspiciously. "You're acting awfully odd. What's going on here?"
Nick came to her rescue. "It's my fault. I roped Jordan into coming with me to meet a friend for coffee. My sneaky way of keeping the date going." He slid his arm around Jordan's waist and pulled her close.
"Aw, aren't you two just the cutest?" Melinda smiled at Nick. "Some other time, then. Oh, I know-Jordan should bring you to dinner at Corinne's on Saturday. That way you can meet everyone at once."
Jordan shook her head. No way, no how-that would mean lying to her friends all evening. "Oh, unfortunately, Nick already has plans for Saturday." She spun around to face him, which put her body smack up against his firm-really firm-chest.
Wow.
She pled with her eyes for him to play along. "You know, that thing you mentioned earlier that you have to do. On Saturday."
"You mean that meeting with the developer I told you about," Nick said without hesitation. "The one who's building the new apartment complex in Old Town for me."
She could've kissed him right there. Handy, these undercover FBI agents, when one needed a lie on the spot.
Jordan turned back to Melinda with a reluctant shrug. "Darn developer." She patted Nick affectionately on his cheek. "Doesn't he know how much I want to show off this tall, dark, and smoldering guy to all my friends?"
Nick threw her a look that said she needed to shut up. Fast.
Jordan clapped her hands together, not disagreeing with that. "So. I don't mean to rush you out, Mel"-of course she did-"but Nick and I really should get going."
She somehow managed to get her friend out without any more deceit or trickery, and shut the door behind Melinda with a groan. "I hate that I had to lie to her like that. Thanks for helping me out when she invited you to dinner on Saturday. This secret-agent stuff is not my thing."
"Just hang in for twenty more minutes and then you can be free of all secret-agent responsibilities for the rest of the day." Nick pointed in the direction of the door. "Starbucks. My treat."
"Are you sure I don't need a code word or something?" Jordan asked. "Maybe we should have one just in case."
"You'll be fine, Rhodes. Trust me."
ON THEIR WAY to Starbucks, Jordan noticed that Nick kept a watchful eye out as they walked the few blocks from her house-presumably checking to see if they were being followed. How surreal that this was her life now, she thought. Making up a fake boyfriend, lying to her best friend, and looking out for shady private investigators who had been hired by a money launderer.
Ah, to go back to simpler times, when she was merely the sister of the world's most infamous Internet terrorist and daughter of a billionaire.
Nick held the door open for her when they arrived at Starbucks. She hurried into the coffee shop, savoring the warmth inside and the anticipation of getting her much-needed caffeine fix. She checked out the other customers, looking for anyone who might be their FBI contact. She shivered, a combination of nerves and excitement, and decided that she'd become quite the badass these days. She had an FBI contact.
Nick hadn't told her anything about how this drop-off would go down, so she followed standard protocol and acted normal. She ordered her drink at the counter. "I'll take a tall, one-pump, sugar-free vanilla soy latte please."
Nick seemed to find her order amusing. Of course he did.
"Just a grande coffee for me," he said.
Jordan stepped to the side to wait for her drink to be called, when someone bumped her from behind.
A firm hand on her shoulder steadied her. "Sorry. My bad," said a man's voice.
"No worries." She glanced up at the man with nearly black hair who smiled apologetically as he left the coffee shop. She pulled her cell phone out of the pocket of her coat. Not unexpectedly, she had a text message from Melinda:CALL ME LATER-I WANT ALL THE DETAILS ABOUT NICK.