A Lot Like Love

Thirteen

NICK HATED TO admit it, but Huxley had been right.

All evening, people studied him curiously. They went out of their way to engage him in conversation, and – with the exception of Eckhart – made polite inquiries about him and Jordan without crossing the line into being intrusive or rude. Mostly, they wanted to know how they’d met. After all, if she liked him, that was good enough for them.

This philosophy carried over into wine, he noticed. People waited to hear her reaction to a wine before commenting themselves, and then almost always vocalized a similar opinion. Perhaps her palette was simply that good, but he suspected the consensus also had something to do with the fact that others viewed Jordan with no small degree of fascination. She was smart, beautiful, ridiculously wealthy (or at least she would be one day), and her family recently had been plagued with a very public scandal. In any setting, this would make her a person of interest. In the staid circles of the Chicago wine community, it made her a star.

Nick watched as she spoke to a couple in their midthirties, wondering if she realized how much influence she held. If pressed, he would have to admit that she was turning out to be not what he’d expected when they’d first met. He kept waiting for her to display some sign of weirdness and/or snobbery, but so far she seemed relatively, well, normal. A somewhat irritating conclusion to arrive at, given how much he hated to admit that he’d been wrong.

“So how did you and Jordan meet?” the man standing across from Nick asked.

How Nick wished he could shake things up, considering this was the sixth time he had been asked that question in the last half hour. Interesting story, actually. We met in her wine store, when I offered her a deal to get her brother out of prison in exchange for cooperating in a covert FBI investigation. “It was just one of those things,” he began, launching into their now familiar tale of romance. “I’d dropped by Jordan’s store to buy a bottle of wine for my property manager. He’d gotten engaged over the weekend and I thought I should – ” He frowned when he felt his cell phone vibrating inside his blazer. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, apologizing. “Sorry. I need to check this for work.”

He looked at the number on the caller ID and instantly knew.

Something was wrong.

He caught Jordan’s curious look. “It’s Ethan. I should grab this.”

She nodded – understanding there obviously was no Ethan – and managed an affectionate smile. “Of course.”

Nick stepped out into the hallway, away from the others. He answered his phone with a casual tone. “Ethan, I’m surprised to hear from you. Don’t you ever take a night off?”

Jack answered, short and to the point. “You’ve picked up a tail. Someone is going to follow you and Jordan home tonight.”

Nick’s jaw tightened. “Any idea how that happened?”

“Eckhart’s making a play for Jordan. He hired a guy to follow you and dig up whatever dirt he can on Nick Stanton.”

Just what they needed. “I’ll have to call you back to discuss this further,” Nick said. “But obviously, this changes our position in the matter.”

“There is some good news,” Jack noted.

“What’s that?” Nick asked.

“At least we know the bugs in Eckhart’s office are working.”

HAVING PICKED UP on the “Ethan” code, Jordan was impatient for answers.

Nick did a great job of maintaining the charade with everyone else, but she noticed a subtle change in his demeanor after the mysterious phone call he’d received.

Xander’s party was typically an event she looked forward to every year, but on this night she counted the minutes until she and Nick could leave without bringing attention to themselves. A long two hours later, they made their way to the waiting Town Car and settled into the backseat. As soon as the driver shut the back door, Jordan opened her mouth, needing to know something.

Nick put his hand on her leg, just above her knee, and squeezed. He held her gaze and shook his head in a barely noticeable gesture. Don’t.

She closed her mouth and watched him for some further sign.

The driver climbed into the car and looked at them in the rearview mirror. “Back to your house, Ms. Rhodes?”

“Yes,” Nick answered for her. He turned back to Jordan and acted as if nothing was amiss. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

Jordan may not have had a clue what was happening, but she understood that she needed to play along with the small talk. “I did. You?”

“I found my introduction to the wine scene very interesting. And speaking of interesting, remember that project Ethan and I have been working on? I got an e-mail from him this evening with some unexpected news. I’ll show it to you.”

He handed his phone to Jordan. When she took it, she saw a warning typed onto the screen:

WE’RE BEING WATCHED

FOLLOW MY LEAD

A chill ran down her back. Watched by whom? And why? She handed Nick back his phone, her heart suddenly racing. “That is unexpected news.” She fell quiet, not sure she could keep the tremor out of her voice.

Nick did something unexpected. He reached out and covered the top of her hand with his. “I’m on it.” The steadiness of his gaze confirmed just that. “Trust me.”

Jordan took a deep breath, realizing that she did trust him. She didn’t know Nick all that well, and frankly didn’t like – well, mostly – what she did know, but she had no doubt that he could handle whatever problem was thrown their way. So she left her hand where it was, covered by his.

When the Town Car finally came to a stop in front of her house, she resisted the urge to immediately jump out. Instead, she waited with forced patience as the driver handed her a clipboard with a bill for her to sign. She quickly added in a tip, scrawled her signature, and gave him back the clipboard. “Thank you.”

“Any time, Ms. Rhodes.”

She opened her door and stepped out of the car without waiting for the driver – a minor breach in Town Car etiquette, but she had more important things to focus on than playing the part of the pampered rich girl. Being followed by unknown villains and engaging in domestic espionage tended to put one’s priorities in perspective.

She met Nick at the sidewalk – he’d gotten out of the car as soon as she had – and he took her arm and led her toward her house. She saw him look casually past her, to the street.

“Keep walking at a regular pace,” he said low in her ear. “We’re just a regular couple, coming home from a party.”

“Could you please tell me what’s going on?” she whispered back.

“A car turned onto the street and parked a few houses down. The driver turned off the car but didn’t get out. People don’t usually sit in cars with the heat off on cold nights like this.” He opened the front gate and led her toward the stairs. “You’re rushing, Jordan.”

Yes, true, she had picked up the pace. She began heading up the steps to her front door. “It’s thirteen degrees outside,” she whispered impatiently. “And we’re supposed to be on a date on Valentine’s Day, remember? Maybe my character is simply eager to get to the hot sex part.”

Nick caught her at the top of the steps and pulled her closer. “That’s not a bad idea.”

Jordan’s heart began to race faster. “What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.

His eyes burned into hers, brilliant green in the moonlight, and there was no mistaking his intentions. “It is our cover, after all.”

“You’re going to kiss me here? Now?” she whispered.

He raised his hand to cup her cheek. “Yes. So make it look good, Rhodes.”

Without another word, his mouth came down on hers.

At first, the kiss was light and teasing as his lips gently brushed against hers. It took Jordan a half second to respond, but then she realized something: he was playing with her. Trying to take control with his whole I’m-in-charge, Mr. FBI Agent routine.

The hell with that, she thought. If there was going to be kissing involved in this undercover operation, she was going to do it right.

She slid her arms around Nick’s neck and pressed closer. She parted her lips and kissed him back, softly melding their mouths together. She felt him freeze – ha, ha, he hadn’t been expecting that – then suddenly –

– He was kissing her. Really kissing her. And … wow. With his hand still holding her cheek, his tongue circled around hers in hot sweeps that made her breath catch. They kissed until the cold February air turned warm around them and crackled with electricity. She sank her fingers into Nick’s hair, and had to fight back a gasp when he moved her backward and pinned her firmly against the front door.

Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed for the small silver purse that dangled from her wrist and rummaged inside. He pulled her keys out, reached past her hip, and fumbled with the lock. She felt the door give, and in a breathless bundle they stumbled inside the house.

Nick slammed the door behind them, and neither of them moved. He trapped her between his arms, his lips barely an inch from hers as he stared down into her eyes. “Do you kiss all your fake boyfriends like that?” he asked raggedly.

“Considering you’re the only fake boyfriend I’ve ever had, yes,” she panted. When he waited for her to say more, she put on her best innocent face and tried to sound nonchalant. “What? You told me to make it look good, so I did.”

Nick’s phone rang from inside his coat, interrupting them.

WITH THE DISTRACTION of the ringing phone, Jordan slid out from under Nick’s arms and walked into the kitchen. He watched her leave, noticing that she touched her fingers to her lips as she turned the corner. He could still feel his own lips there, could still taste the intoxicating flavor of her. He might’ve known zilch about cabernet, pinot, and all the other wine varietals, but her kiss was something he’d have no problem describing: luscious, rich, and tantalizing.

His phone rang again.

Right, he had work to do. A minor undercover assignment he was supposed to be focusing on. He pulled his phone out and saw that it was Pallas calling. “We’re back at Jordan’s house,” he answered. Thank God the microphone taped to his chest was well out of range of the receiver, or the guys in the van would’ve gotten an earful moments ago. “Tell me everything.”

As Pallas filled him in on the details of the conversation they’d intercepted between Eckhart and Mercks, Nick slid off his coat, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt. He ripped the microphone and tape off his chest. “We were followed here by a black sedan,” he said after Jack finished. “I wasn’t able to get a look at the driver. Are you still in the van?”

“I left Reed and Jansen there. I just arrived at the office, and we’re working up a full profile for you as we speak,” Jack said. “Davis is on his way. He wants you to call in.”

Thirty seconds later, Nick had his boss on the line.

“Pallas filled me in on everything,” Davis said. “I’m still trying to decide who’s going on my shit list for this mess.”

“Xander Eckhart is at the top of mine,” Nick said.

“Well, I can’t yell at him,” Davis grumbled. “How about Huxley? He’s been working this up for months; he’s the one who picked Jordan Rhodes. A heads-up that there’s a romantic connection between her and Eckhart would’ve been appreciated.”

“There’s no romantic connection,” Nick said. “Don’t blame it on Huxley – we had no way of knowing this was going to happen.”

“You know what it means now that Eckhart has someone following you.”

Yes, he did. Nick had known what it meant the moment Pallas had called him at Eckhart’s party. “It means that I’ll be playing the part of Nick Stanton longer than expected.”

Davis paused. “Obviously, you can’t go to New York tomorrow.”

Nick pinched between his eyes. “I know.”

“I’m really sorry, Nick. I roped you into this and now you won’t be able to make your mother’s party.”

“It comes with the job. You know that, Mike – you did this for years.”

“I did. And I also know that after a while, it takes its toll. Six years of nearly back-to-back undercover assignments is a long time. If you weren’t so good at it, I would’ve reassigned you already.”

But he was good at it. Nick changed the subject. “What do we know about this Mercks guy Eckhart has following us?”

“We ran a background check and cross-referenced him in our database. He owns a private investigation firm in the Loop. Seems to have a lot of wealthy clientele.”

“Any connections to Roberto Martino?”

“None that we’ve found. He might be nosy and highly inconvenient, but I don’t think he poses any threat.”

Nick was relieved to hear that. That last thing he’d wanted was anyone connected to Roberto Martino camped outside Jordan’s house.

“There’s one final matter we need to discuss,” Davis said.

“Jordan.”

“You understand what this development with Eckhart means in terms of her continued involvement in the investigation?” Davis asked.

“Yes.”

“Does she?”

“Not yet,” Nick said. “I’ll explain everything to her as soon as we hang up.”

“She’s not going to like it.”

No, she isn’t. And it wasn’t exactly a conversation Nick looked forward to, but he had a job to do and this was part of it. He and Davis discussed a few outstanding matters related to the investigation, his boss wanting to be certain they were on the same page. Then Nick hung up and went into the kitchen, ready to be the bearer of bad news.