Chapter Eight
Text message from Grace Brighton to Jake Malone:
Just wanted to double-check we’re good for lunch today? Looking forward to seeing you. Especially after the dream I had last night. Let’s just say the contents belong in an entirely different sort of magazine ;)
* * *
“Emma, you good? Copy.”
“Copy?” came Emma’s voice, low and incredulous in her ear. “Seriously? We’re doing that?”
“Roger roger. Over. Over and out. Copy that. Copy the copy. Roger over the copy out.”
Grace’s footsteps faltered as she made her way back from the restroom to the table where she’d be waiting for Jake. “Riley? Is that you? How the heck did you get an earpiece? More importantly, why?”
“How are you asking me that? It was my brother who got you the earpieces in the first place.”
“Yeah, for me and Emma,” Grace said, giving a bright smile to the confused waiter, who clearly thought she was talking to herself. “You know, the only people actually in the restaurant.”
Silence.
Suspicion dawned. “Ri … Emma and I are the only ones in the restaurant, aren’t we?”
“Well …”
“Come on now, Grace,” said a new voice. “You didn’t really think we’d miss out on Operation That’s What She Said?”
Grace’s eyes fluttered closed. Julie was here too. “Oh no.”
“The gang’s all here!” Riley said, sounding quite pleased with herself.
A quick scan of the restaurant showed Julie and Riley sitting by the window. Riley was attacking the basket of bread, naturally.
Grace stifled a sigh. Additional distractions weren’t ideal, but as long as Emma stayed put at the table adjacent to Grace’s, they’d be fine. As she returned to her table, her eyes landed on the tiny clutch containing the tiny camera with an unobstructed view of Grace and Jake.
Everything was in place. Except the guy.
“He’s late,” Julie muttered. “If he stands her up, I swear to God …”
“Julie,” Grace said pleasantly, taking a sip of her water, “if you don’t shut up, I swear to God—”
“Incoming.”
This from Emma, whose expression never wavered from the bored businesswoman-out-for-a-solo-lunch expression she’d been wearing the entire time. Seriously, the woman could have a career in Hollywood and with the CIA.
“Grace.”
At the sound of the now familiar voice, she took one long last breath to steady herself. Show time.
“Jake.”
She let her voice go low and husky, looking up at him through her lashes.
A little flicker of surprise flashed over his face at her welcoming expression. Really, what had he been expecting? A high five? A kick in the balls?
She tilted her cheek up to him as he leaned down to kiss her, and she hoped the camera didn’t miss the way he lingered. She hoped it did miss her blush.
And therein lied the weakness in the plan. The camera was intended to capture Jake’s interest for the world to see. But it would also capture hers if she wasn’t careful.
All the more reason to keep her lady urges tamped down.
Think of Greg. Think of finding Maureen’s panties in your bed. Think of the way Jake manipulated you last time.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, his eyes searching hers.
“Oh, please,” she said, waving away his apology. “Busy day?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. In addition to my full-time role at Oxford, I sometimes freelance for one of the nonprofit newsletters discussing the city’s social issues—homelessness, crime, suicide. Today’s research was … brutal.”
He looked a little surprised at his own admission, just as Grace was surprised by her impulse to ask him for more information. To ask if he wanted to talk about it.
That wasn’t part of the plan.
“So. What are your thoughts on day drinking?” she asked.
Disappointment flashed across his face at her easy dismissal of his freelance work. It had obviously been important to him, and she’d blown it off like he’d mentioned the weather. Grace ignored the stab of remorse that he probably wouldn’t be spilling his guts to her anytime soon.
“I could do a little European-style wine with lunch,” he said finally.
The statement was completely innocuous, but the expression on his face made it clear that wine could be substituted with something else. Something far more decadent.
Yup, the text message had done its job, all right. Jake Malone had sexy times on the brain.
She demurely glanced down at the wine list, knowing that the camera would capture the blatant invitation on his face, even as it missed the butterflies in her stomach.