“A conundrum,” he said softly, then waited.
Jacquie took a breath. “I like you, Pierce. I thought it would be good to talk to you again, and yes, I am selfishly suggesting tonight because I don’t think I can face that apartment alone.” She was embarrassed that her voice broke a little over that confession. She closed her eyes, hating that she’d sounded weak. There was silence on the line and she wondered—yet again—whether she’d admitted too much. “I guess that makes me a coward,” she concluded quietly.
“Or human,” Pierce said warmly and sounded as if he’d decided something. “You could move. Not tonight, but eventually.”
“I’ve been thinking about it, but the ghosts will probably follow me.”
“As they do,” he acknowledged. “Your place or mine?”
Jacquie’s knees went weak with relief. “Mine.”
“Do I get to meet the ghosts?” His tone was light, as if he was trying to prompt her smile.
“If you want to. They’re friendly, really. They just have me outnumbered.”
Pierce chuckled. “If you don’t cook, do I need to bring pots?”
“No, the kitchen is well-equipped. My mom was an excellent cook and I’ve never cleaned out the cupboards.”
“No wonder your ghosts hang around,” he said wryly. “You keep their stuff.”
“Yes,” she agreed with a smile. “I’m not good at cleaning it out.”
“I’ll bring the wine.”
“No, you don’t have to.” Jacquie was relieved and tried to make a joke. “If I’d decided to drown my sorrows, I would have been an alcoholic years ago.”
Pierce didn’t laugh. “To go with the veal,” he explained. “The recipe suggests a medium-bodied slightly fruity red.” Again, it sounded like he was reading. “And I’ll need you to help, regardless of your cooking skills.”
“But...”
He interrupted her firmly. “Risotto, it says, has to be stirred constantly while it simmers and I won’t be able to do that while cooking the meat and preparing the sauce.”
“Oh! I can stir.”
“I suspected you could.”
“Especially with adequate direction.”
“You’ll get that.”
Jacquie smiled, her mood vastly improved. “What should I pick up?”
“Nothing. I just bought the groceries.”
“You’ll need the address.”
“You’re in the phone book, Jacquie. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.”
Twenty minutes was exactly how long it would take the train to get her uptown. Jacquie wondered what else Pierce knew about her, then decided she didn’t much care. “I’ll get the wine,” she said. “Since you’re bringing everything else.”
“Deal,” he said and then he was gone.
Jacquie found herself hurrying to the station to get home, feeling a lot more anticipation than she had just minutes before. There was a wine store at the end of her block. She’d ask the owner for suggestions.
And she’d turn off her phone. She could talk to Pierce or to her kids, but she wouldn’t juggle both. Not tonight.
Pierce suspected he’d made a foolish choice. Spending the evening with Jacquie was just too tempting, even when it was the anniversary of the death of her one true love. He understood that she wasn’t offering any physical consolation and he knew that they had no future as a couple—as long as she was in love with Mitchell—but when her voice broke, he couldn’t refuse her.
It would help them both, he told himself. That’s what friends did for each other.
But his anticipation at seeing her again, at being with her alone in her apartment, was a lot more than a friend should be feeling.
All he had to do was hide that from her. He’d do the right thing, make dinner with her, meet her ghosts, and go home alone.
It would be fine.
Even if he had slipped and admitted that he already knew where she lived.
Jacquie’s address was on the Upper West Side. The building was about ten stories high and Pierce guessed it had been built in the early twentieth century. He’d buzzed Jacquie’s apartment on his arrival but she wasn’t home yet. He juggled his groceries, held the door for residents with dogs and parcels, and remained in the lobby. It was starting to snow, big flakes floating down from the sky.
There was no doorman, but as soon as Pierce took up position in the lobby to wait, the residents who were coming and going looked him up and down, their suspicions clear. None of them offered to let him in and that reassured him that she lived in a safe environment.
It was only a few minutes before Jacquie appeared, bundled up against the cold. She looked a little bit lost, like she’d lost some weight or hadn’t slept well. He didn’t imagine for a minute that she’d missed him. It was probably this anniversary that had thrown her game. That was just more evidence of the power of Mitchell’s ghost and he debated the merit of handing her the groceries and leaving.
She smiled, though, pleasure lighting her eyes when she saw him, and he couldn’t do it. “Were you waiting long?”
“Just a couple of minutes.”
“There was a line at the wine store.”
“No problem.”
“Didn’t anyone offer to let you in?”
“No, and that’s a good thing.”
She unlocked the door, leading him to the elevator. It came immediately and she showed him the bottle of wine. “The store owner suggested this one. It’s from Chile.”
“Looks good.”
“Do you know a lot about wine?”
“No. I was thinking that might be my next course.”
“How’s your Japanese?”
He rolled his eyes. “I have so much homework to do. I missed it last week, too.”
“Someone should compensate you for your trouble,” she said, her tone fierce. It amused Pierce that she’d be protective of him. That didn’t happen often.
“Someone did,” he reminded her. The silence was pregnant between them then and he wondered if she knew that he’d spent a bunch of it on their night together.
He didn’t regret it, not a bit, even though things hadn’t worked out.
The elevator door opened on the sixth floor, and Jacquie
