She smiled at the memory before taking another sip of wine.
"I'm sorry she never got to see this place," Nick said gently. "I'm sure she would've been very proud."
Jordan nodded and felt her eyes sting. She cleared her throat and kept things light. "It's just because I look so good in comparison to Kyle. He's currently setting the bar very, very low for the Rhodes twins."
Nick laughed. "I think you look pretty good in comparison to anyone."
Jordan pulled back in surprise. "Wow. Was that actually a compliment?"
He paused midchew, as if just having realized what he'd said. He took a moment, finished chewing, then shrugged. "Sure. Even I can give my fake girlfriend a compliment when the role requires it." He winked. "And you should hear me when I whisper sweet nothings."
"I'm sure it's a real treat." Jordan reached for another fry and dipped it into the tub of melted cheesy goodness. "What about you? How did you end up at the FBI?"
"Well, that goes back to the time I was ten years old and thrown in jail," Nick said.
She laughed. "Ten? Oh, Nick, you little troublemaker. What did you do?"
"My brothers and I broke a couple of windows after this kid called us douchebags. My father, who was an NYPD sergeant at the time, brought us down to the stationhouse and locked us in a cell for six hours. Scared the crap out of us."
"I bet," Jordan said with a smile. "Sorry. I'm sure it was quite a traumatic experience."
Nick stole the cheese fry out of her hand. "Keep mocking me, and I'll eat every one of these."
She put on a serious face. "I'm listening."
"When we got home that night, my dad set my brothers and me down and told us that his actions reflected on the New York Police Department, and that our actions reflected on him. And that he hoped, from that point on, that we would conduct ourselves in a manner that honored the badge he wore." He paused. "I remember thinking that someday I wanted to have a job that I was just as proud of. And that stuck with me. So I joined the NYPD straight out of college. I liked it enough, but after five years I felt like I wanted more. Which brought me to the FBI. After I graduated from the Academy, they transferred me to Chicago. That was only supposed to be for three years, but I like it here. Having a little bit of distance from my family is not entirely a bad thing."
Jordan swirled the wine in her glass. "What do they think about you working all these undercover assignments?"
Nick chuckled. "You should hear my mother go on about it." He adopted a thick New York accent. " 'My son, the FBI agent, you think he has time to call with all those big, important cases they assign him to? I could be dead and he wouldn't know it.' "
Jordan laughed, enjoying these rare insights into the real world of Nick McCall. Until now, he'd been somewhat of a mystery. "I bet you miss them all."
He shrugged. "Sure. Although I try to keep that fact from my brothers. Our relationship is more of the sarcastic, annoy-the-crap-out-of-each-other type."
"Oh, I think I know the kind," Jordan said. Her relationship with Kyle wasn't exactly defined by expressive sentimentality, either.
When they had finished eating, Nick offered to help her clean up the store.
"You don't have to help me out," she said. "I was just kidding about that earlier."
"And let you do all the hard work? If anyone's watching, my character needs to look like a helpful and supportive boyfriend."
She tossed him a dishtowel. "In that case, your character can get to work on all these dirty wineglasses."
Between the two of them, they cleaned up the store quickly. Nick had parked out front, and he drove Jordan the four blocks to her house, where he insisted on walking her to the door. Per usual, she saw him check out the other cars parked on the street.
"Were we followed?" she asked.
"Actually, I don't think so," Nick said. "We're in the clear."
"Oh, good." Jordan stopped at the top of the steps. As they stood in the moonlight on her front stoop, it struck her that this had been the first evening she'd spent truly alone with Nick. No private investigators watching them, no friends, no Xander Eckhart and company. Just them.
Almost like an actual date.
"Thanks for dinner and for helping me out tonight." She paused, struck by the truth of what she was about to say next. "I had a really good time."
Nick seemed amused by her surprise. He moved up another step, joining her at the top of the stairs. "You don't have to sound so shocked. I'm not all bad, you know."
"Maybe just mostly bad," Jordan teased.
Nick cocked his head, considering this. "Mostly bad . . . I guess that's progress."
They stood very close, Jordan noticed. As in, end-of-the-date, do-I-invite-him-inside close. Which made no sense, considering this arrangement between her and Nick was all a charade.
They both fell silent for a few seconds. The night, the street, and everything else suddenly felt very still. Finally, Jordan gestured to her house. "I should probably get going inside. Subzero temperatures out here and all."
Nick pointed to his car. "Right. And I need to get home. Have to get up bright and early for my fake job."
"Okay, then."
"Great."
Neither of them moved.
"So I guess I'll see you later," Jordan said. She turned to go-if for no other reason, her feet were beginning to freeze in her boots and pretty soon she wouldn't be able to move.
Nick caught her hand. "Jordan."
He said her name so quietly, if it hadn't been for the relative silence of the night, she might have missed it. When she turned around, his eyes were looking into hers as if searching for something.
Then just like that, the moment was gone. He gave her a curt nod, his expression unreadable once again. "I'll call you later." He dropped her hand and strode down the steps without looking back.
Twenty
THE NEXT MORNING, Jordan spent her first hour at the store doing inventory and placing orders with her distributors for the following month's wine supply. She was leaving for Napa Valley on Friday, a trip she'd planned months ago. While she generally tried to make it out to wine country three or four times a year for business, she was particularly excited about this trip-she had an appointment to visit a new winery whose debut cabernet she was considering for the store's wine club.
Plus, she needed the weekend away, from Chicago, FBI undercover assignments, and everything else. A few days alone would do her some good, get her back to thinking clearly again. Maybe get her to stop wondering whether Nick had wanted to kiss her last night.
Somehow, she'd blurred the line in her head between what was real and fake in their situation. But a real date would've kissed her last night, not given her a token "I'll call you later" before hightailing it off her front porch. Yet here she was, still thinking about him.
Jordan did a mental headshake, forcing herself to focus on work. Wanting to make up for the extra shifts she had to burden her staff with during the time she'd be in Napa, she had scheduled herself to both open and close the store that day. Luckily, Andrea was feeling better and was set to come in at one o'clock, which meant that Jordan wouldn't have to work the evening shift alone again.
After placing orders, she posted on the store's Facebook page about the special they were running through the weekend: buy three reds, get the fourth half off. Then she turned to her favorite project-paying bills. She cringed at the gas bill and cursed the ridiculous cost of keeping a large store warm in the winter. Apparently, the folks at Peoples Gas thought she had a half-billion dollars at her disposal.
A little heiress humor.
Shortly before noon, the chime on the door rang as the first customer of the day walked in. Jordan looked up from the bar and smiled at the woman, an attractive brunette wearing a North Face coat and yoga pants that showed off her fit, curvy physique.
Either on her way to or from the gym, Jordan guessed. "Can I help you?"
The woman seemed to ponder this question for a moment. "I'm just looking for now." She looked around the store, as if checking to see if anyone else was around.
Jordan wondered if Martin had finally found a woman who appreciated a light-bodied, bow-tie-wearing pinot. "Take your time. If you have any questions, let me know."
The woman paused. "Actually, the hell with it. I do have a question." She stalked over to the bar. "Is it serious between you and Nick?"
The question, completely unexpected, caught Jordan off guard. "I'm sorry?"
"Nick McCall. Is it serious between the two of you?"
Jordan took a moment to respond, thinking carefully about her answer. "I know a Nick Stanton, but not a Nick McCall." She looked the woman over. "I'm sorry-I didn't catch your name."
"Lisa. And the name of the guy who was in your store last night is Nick McCall. Trust me-I would know. I know Nick very well."
Reasonable reaction or not, Jordan caught herself bristling at the implication. "If you know Nick so well, why do you need to ask me if things are serious?"
Lisa shifted uncomfortably, seeming to hedge a little. "I haven't heard from him for a couple weeks. Then I happened to see him yesterday in his car. I followed him here and thought I'd catch him inside the store, until I spotted you two through the door. You looked cozy."