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There at the top of the small rise is Meg, arm-in-arm with none other than Niks Tellefson.
Jack’s voice is low and grumbly. “I thought dinner was off the clock.”
“Meg thought we’d tease a little intrigue with you and Niks.” Bobby picks up my golf bag. I guess he’s being a gentleman, but I would have like to have been asked. “With Gillian and me in the mix, it’ll keep the fans guessing.”
“I thought Jack was the world’s most eligible heartthrob.” I was aiming for lighthearted, but a little snark escapes.
Jack’s eyes flash a warning.
Luckily, Bobby doesn’t pick up on my dig. “Meg knows how to play to the fans. She’s a master puppeteer.”
Those puppet strings are messing with my life.
Jack searches the area around the bench. “Gilly, have you seen my seven iron?” He jerks his chin down the row.
“Oh, shoot. I think I leaned it on the bench over by our mat.” We both make a show of looking for the club.
Jack angles close enough to me to whisper. “I’ll pass you my phone at dinner. Put your number in it. I’ll call with details when we’re done with Meg’s fun and games.”
I should drink more. One whiskey and ginger soda isn’t enough to endure watching Niks hang all over Jack at dinner. When she tugs on his earlobe, I can’t decide who to kick under the table—Niks for the tug or Jack for letting it happen. Every time they put their heads together for a private tete-á-tete, I want to wretch.
It takes me by surprise when Niks turns her attention to me.
“Gillian, Bobby says you are from a show business family. Yes?”
Answering her would be much easier if she wasn’t hip to hip with Jack. “My parents are both art directors.”
Niks claps her hands. “Oh, when I come to California, I will call them to make my house beautiful.” She turns to Jack. “We go there this summer, yes?”
Jack raises his eyebrows in Meg’s direction.
A satisfied smile stretches across the publicist’s face. “The Chieftain’s Sonis going to make its San Diego Cali Con debut this July.”
Jack leans in my direction. “Have you ever been to Cali Con, Gillian?” Under the table, he slips his phone into my hand.
“A few times. My parents were on several design panels for their shows.”
“Do I know these?” asks Niks. “The shows?”
“Did you ever seeThe Rhythm of the Beat?”
I want the conversation to switch focus away from me so I can put my number in Jack’s phone.
Niks swats Jack’s shoulder. “Yes, I know that one. The cop show.” Once again, her gaze settles on Jack. “You watch it, yes?”
I steal a look down at the phone and add my number to Jack’s contacts. For a panicked moment, I don’t know what to put for the name. I opt for simplicity and enterG. Hopefully, he’ll figure it out.
When I tap the phone against his leg, he captures my whole hand, sliding this thumb across my skin. It sends pleasant tingles up my arm. We’re so sneaky, plotting our rendezvous right under Niks’s button nose. All her pawing isn’t getting the result I’m sure she wants: more Jack. I envision a thought bubble above my head that says:Jack and Gilly are happening.Niks and Jack are not. I’m the one with his phone. She isn’t.
Despite our phone pass, I can’t shake the tightness in my chest. Jack plays a convincing game with Niks. I don’t want to be a game too. He’s very handsy with every female within reach, and it bothers me. What’s genuine and what’s PR?
Jack offers to drive Niks back to the hotel in town. Our restaurant is about half an hour out of Waterville, and the thought of the two of them alone in Jack’s car ties my stomach in triple knots. Niks’s response, which should be “no,” is to kiss Jack on the cheek. Her fingers walk up his neck and play in his hair. The rancid memory of Treat pressing Lanie Blesch up against the trunk of an oak makes an unwelcome appearance in my head.
Even worse is thewell-doneexpression Meg wears. The puppet master is pleased.
When Bobby hints it’s time for us to take off, I practically leap from my seat. Jack is on his feet with speed to match mine. He wraps me in his arms with the pretense of thanking me for our friendly competition back at the driving range. The way his fingers press into my back are beyond the bounds of a casual hug. That simple touch reignites my draw to him. I remind myself I’m the one going home with Jack, not the unnervingly gorgeous Niks Tellefson.
Back at my apartment, I take the fastest shower of my twenty-eight years, shave everyplace that needs to be smooth and inviting, and fluff my hair from stringy to sexy. I close my eyes and summon every one of my kisses with Jack. Oh, to be able to take the time to learn what else those lips are capable of. Everything he’s planned tonight ends with us together. That’s reality, not his flirty façade with Niks. The combination of desire and anticipation makes me giggle. I stare at my phone willing Jack’s call to come in. I texted myself from his phone so I’d have his number. He’s simplyJin my contacts. Secret Agent J.
