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Maybe he’d have to accelerate his timetable. Get out of here before she started picking out china.
“Why don’t we see how it goes while I’m in town?” He hung a right, keeping Bri in sight. If she stayed in pattern, she’d go straight home to her duplex apartment on a quiet residential street—also consistent with her history. She’d never been much of a socializer.
“We were together for eight months back in college. It’s not like we don’t know each other.” Petulance crept into her voice. Typical if she didn’t get her way, and another one of her less-alluring traits.
“That was more than a dozen years ago. People change.”
“You seem the same to me. Tall, dark, and charming as ever.” A beat ticked by, and when she continued, her tone was cajoling. “I picked up an excellent cabernet after work. I also made lasagna. Everything’s waiting.”
Travis flipped on his blinker.
Bri’s pattern was holding. She was following her usual route home. At this rate, she’d be pulling into her garage within fifteen minutes. Much as he’d prefer to hit a few barstonight, find a no-strings-attached companion for the evening, keeping his hostess happy had to be a top priority.
“I should be there in half an hour. How’s that?”
“I’ll be waiting. See you soon, handsome.”
He punched the end button and tossed the phone onto the seat beside him.
If only he could toss Marcia away too.
But that would happen soon. Once he finished the job he’d come to do, he was out of here.
Marcia might think the old spark between them was back—and he’d play along while it suited his purposes—but the instant he was done wreaking havoc here, St. Louis would be a speck in his rearview mirror.
And Marcia’s romantic fantasies, along with Bri Tucker’s perfect life, would be reduced to ashes.
BRI HAD ARRIVED.
Marc took a sip of his Americano as she pushed through the door, his corner seat offering a clear view of the entire coffee shop she’d suggested as a meeting place. A stereotypical table choice for law enforcement types, perhaps, but it had paid off for him on more than one occasion.
You couldn’t be prepared to fight an enemy you didn’t see coming.
Bri, however, was not an enemy.
He lifted a hand to draw her attention, and she responded in kind before striding to the counter.
Exactly what he’d expected her to do, given the independent vibes radiating from her at the fire scene.
After placing her order, she wove through the crowd of Saturday customers, her skinny jeans, soft-looking sweater, and heeled boots a definite improvement over the baggy jumpsuit she’d worn the day they met. Several people moved outof her path as she crossed the shop, clearly intimidated by her strong, purposeful, I-have-important-business-to-take-care-of bearing.
Only when she drew near did her pace falter for a millisecond. As if she was having second thoughts.
Offering her an encouraging smile, he rose as she regained her rhythm. “Good morning.”
She returned his greeting, hugging a notebook against her chest. “This shouldn’t take long. I don’t want to monopolize your day.”
“I don’t have any pressing plans.” He motioned to the empty chair, waited until she claimed it, then retook his seat and indicated the scone and muffin on a plate in front of him. “I thought you might enjoy a pastry.” If she wouldn’t let him buy her drink, he could at least provide food.
“I already had breakfast. Thank you.”
“I bet it wasn’t as healthy as these.”
She cast a dubious eye at the pastries. “You lose. I had a veggie omelet.”
“Nope. I win.”
Her eyebrows peaked. “How can you say that? Those are loaded with sugar.”
