He smiled and again she was struck by how much more approachable he looked when his features softened. “I only stopped by to apologize to you.”
Jacquie’s heart fluttered right on cue. “Mission accomplished.”
“Only because it wasn’t as impossible as I’d thought it might be.” He indicated his phone. “We should exchange numbers, in case there’s an issue.”
“Expecting one?”
“No.” His denial was firm. “I just like to be prepared.”
“Because there’s a princess in town,” Jacquie teased.
“Don’t remind me,” he said. They exchanged numbers but Pierce didn’t walk away. They smiled at each other for a long warm moment. “Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes glowing.
“For what?”
“For a second chance.”
Jacquie reached up to kiss his cheek. “See you there.”
“Absolutely,” he murmured right into her ear. His hand landed on her shoulder for a sweet moment and she felt his thumb slide across her, as if he couldn’t resist giving her a caress. That brief touch made her want to be naked. He kissed her cheek and she heard him inhale the scent of her, then he pivoted crisply and strode away—as if he couldn’t trust himself to stop at that.
Jacquie watched until he stepped off the curb. Pierce glanced back and raised a hand, then disappeared into the throngs of people. It would be easy to get used to having his undivided attention but she wouldn’t risk that.
It would be a fling but she was going to make the most of that opportunity.
She knew she wouldn’t regret it.
Pierce had become aware of the dark limo as he was leaving Jacquie at F5F. He knew he might be wrong, but it kicked him into action, putting distance between them. He wished he hadn’t been with her when he’d seen it.
Especially since it followed him.
Every time the car slid past him, it turned up again within a block.
It had diplomatic plates. The windows were tinted so he couldn’t see who was inside, but he had a bad feeling about it. There were hundreds of black limos with tinted windows in Manhattan, but Pierce didn’t like that this one was following him. When it stopped passing him and turning up again, just matching its speed to his pace, he knew something was about to happen. The traffic was flowing better than that.
He’d make something different happen.
At the next intersection, Pierce stood in a cluster of pedestrians waiting for the light to change, as if he intended to stay there, waiting until the limo was boxed in by other cars. In the last seconds of the green for the cross street, he darted across the avenue and raced down the opposite sidewalk in the other direction. There was no way the limo could turn left to follow him.
He ducked down the next side street, shot through an alley, jumped a fence and cut through an open delivery door. The guy working there shouted at him in Spanish, but Pierce burst from the back into the shop, smiled at the proprietor and strode through the convenience store. He sauntered out of the shop’s front door onto a cross street two blocks south and one block west of where he’d been waiting for the light.
He turned right, then right again on the next avenue. He had to buy a new shirt and tie, so was heading uptown to the department store. He was back on course, on a slightly different street, and there was no sign of the limo. He stepped to the curb and raised his hand for a cab.
He only really relaxed once he was inside the department store and hadn’t caught a glimpse of the limo again.
Maybe it hadn’t been following him.
Maybe he was making things up, missing the old days.
Pierce hoped that was it.
That evening, Jacquie was standing in front of the full-length mirror in her closet, debating the merit of a little black dress or slim black pants and a silky blouse, holding each up in front of herself in turn. The dress was sexier, but it implied that she had expectations. The pants and blouse were dressy but more casual, the kind of thing she’d wear to meet friends for an evening out.
Sex or conversation? She knew what she wanted. She’d told Pierce what she wanted, and hoped he meant it when he said he liked that she was direct. She also knew she could shape the evening’s events by her choice of clothes, because Pierce was astute enough to read the clues. Her own answer was clear, but she wondered about his expectations.
Then she remembered his thumb sliding across her shoulder and his quick intake of breath.
The dress.
And the new lingerie.
The only variable was her shoes. The heels looked best with the dress, but they were higher than usual for her. She’d never worn either and was proud of herself for even making the acquisitions the month before. The sexy little black dress and come-hither shoes had been part of her plan to step out of her old life and into a new one. Jacquie put on the shoes and straightened. They were high.
Brendan would call them something other than come-hither shoes. CFM’s. Then he’d laugh and Elizabeth would swat him. That girl wore the highest heels and Jacquie wondered who enjoyed them more.
The shoes made her feel tall and sleek. She walked back and forth across the bedroom, reviewing how far it was to the restaurant.
A block and a half. She could do it.
She could take a cab home, if she had to.
She could walk home barefoot in defeat, if she had to. No, she’d put those ballet flats in her purse. Jacquie wasn’t one for dainty little evening bags and no one would know the difference.
And in success, Pierce could carry her.
That made her smile.
Her decision made, she returned the pants and blouse to the closet, then faced the box on the bed. Dressing for success meant avoiding all the practical white cotton briefs and sports bras that were her wardrobe staples. She’d visited
