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“That’s very kind of you.” Jamie held up his glass.
“We’re a neighborhood. It’s what we do.” Otto shrugged and then lowered his head to go back to his drawing.
“Amazing,” Jamie said under his breath. Then he faced her, his smile brilliant. “That just goes to show you that there are a million pathways to a goal. I’m happy to see you.”
She blinked at the way he was suddenly focused completely on her. “I’m glad, especially since Lottie said she called you a drug lord today.”
“She didn’t call me anything so exalted as a drug lord. She asked if I was a basic drug dealer. That was a first for me.” He studied her, the hand on her back brushing the ends of her hair at her shoulders. “You look lovely.”
She felt herself blush. “You say that now, but in two weeks when you go back to those perfect supermodels you usually date—”
“I don’t like supermodels. I stay away from them.”
She blinked at the absolute way he declared it. “No man dislikes supermodels.”
He turned forward, motioning to Chris.
Chris came over, frowning when he saw that their drinks were still fresh. “Yeah?”
“Would you go out with a supermodel?”
Chris shook his head right away. “No way. Too high-maintenance. And I like real women, with curves.”
He held his fist out again, and Chris bumped it like they were longtime friends. Jamie looked back at her, his eyebrow raised.
“I don’t have curves,” she pointed out.
“Ew.” Chris held his hands up. “That’s something I don’t want to think about. I’m just going to go back to polishing glasses.”
She shooed him away, still watching Jamie. “I don’t have curves,” she said again.
“Yes, you do,” he replied. “All the right ones.”
She looked down at herself. Her loose blouse didn’t show anything—no cleavage, no silhouette of boobs. “How do you know?”
“Instinct.” He tugged on the ends of her hair. “Can we get one thing clear?”
“Okay,” she said slowly, wondering what that was.
“The only woman on my mind is you.” He lowered his head to meet her gaze head-on. “I’m not pining for anyone else; I’m not thinking about anyone else. You’re the only woman I’m interested in.”
She believed him. How could she not when it was all there, written in his eyes? She didn’t know how to process that exactly, so she took a sip of her wine until she could figure out what to say. “So, let me get this straight.”
He just kept watching her as he sipped his whiskey.
“You don’t like supermodels, which means you’ve had some experience with them.”
“Yes,” he replied straight-out.
She frowned. She’d hoped Alice had been wrong. “I didn’t expect that much honesty from you. You’ve been cryptic so far.”
“Get used to it.” He gestured with his hand. “Go on.”
“You’re obviously well off, if you can take three weeks off to go on a boys’ trip, but you’re not a drug dealer.”
“No, I’m not,” he said emphatically.
“But you’re not a stripper, and you’re here in Chicago to help Erik find a girl because apparently there are no more girls closer to home in Europe.”
