“She made me sweat out there,” I say as I collapse in the visitor’s chair.
“That means she’s doing her job well. What’s this about paintings that I’d be interested in?” Greg asks.
I knew that would get his attention. “Yeah, I have them at home. You can come by any time to see them.”
“They must be pretty special,” Greg says, his eye gleaming.
“Yeah, they are. But that’s not why I’m here.” I jump to my feet and pace the room. I’m too restless to sit.
“Shoot,” Greg says.
I pause to look at him. “It’s a hypothetical question. Say you met a woman when you were under disguise, and you found yourself having feelings for her. It turns out that she despises the celebrity lifestyle, and dating a famous person is the one thing she would never do. Would you still tell her the truth about your identity?”
Greg contemplates me without speaking for a few seconds. “You met a woman at the fire station, right?”
“Just answer the fucking question, will you?”
He grins and then grows serious. “A lot of people say that until they actually date a famous person. That lifestyle quickly grows on you. The limo rides, the attention, expensive restaurants…”
“I think she means it,” I tell him.
He waves a dismissive hand. “They all do, at first.”
I’m growing impatient. “Back to the original question. Would you tell her who you were?”
He gives my question some thought. “No. I’d enjoy the affair while it lasted because the moment she finds out who you are, it’s over. She’ll change from a lover to a fan, and you don’t want a fan in your bed cooing over you.”
I think about Grace fawning over me and immediately dismiss the thought. That’s not her, and I can’t explain why I’m so sure, but I am.
Chapter 9
Grace
I’m dressed and ready for Jack when he sends me a message.
Hey you. I have a surprise for you. Dress warm. Pants. Boots. Jacket.
I look down at the dress I chose for the evening. It’s a burgundy off-shoulder mini dress paired with high heels, and now he wants me to swap it for pants. I let out a sound of frustration and stomp back into my room.
“He’d better have a good reason for this,” I mutter to myself as I remove the dress that I so carefully picked earlier. When I’m down to my bra and panties, I pad to the closet and peer in. I reach for my favorite pair of pants. White ankle pants. I pair them with a gingham checked shirt and a red blazer. I hunt around for my boots, and when I’m ready, I look at my reflection in the mirror.
Not bad. I return to the living room just as the doorbell rings. I grab my purse, make my way downstairs, look up and down the street, and don’t see my car.
“Are you looking for me?” a guy on a motorbike says to me.
“Jack?”
He slips off his helmet, and I see that it’s Jack. I shift my gaze from his grinning face to his obviously expensive bike.
“Is this yours?” I ask him.
“Yes, do you like it?” he says, holding the helmet against his chest.
I grin. “I’ve always wanted to ride a motorbike.” I caress the side of the sleek-looking motorbike.
I’ve always loved bikes, but I’ve never been brave enough to ride on one. I know a little bit about them too. Jack’s is a Harley Davidson and one of the most expensive bikes.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell him as I walk around it, admiring it from all the sides.
“Thank you,” Jack says. “Where are we going for dinner?”
“This Mexican restaurant on Oak Street,” I tell him.
He whips out his phone, and after a few minutes, he slips it back into his jacket pocket. “Got it.”
He removes a second helmet from the saddlebag. It’s a woman’s size.
“How many ladies have you taken for a ride on this bike?” I can’t believe I said that.
He closes the distance between us and pushes stray strands of hair away from my face. He meets my gaze. “No woman had ever been on this bike. You’ll be the first.”
All air leaves my lungs as Jack gently lowers the helmet over my head. He fusses with it until he’s satisfied with the fit.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, staring at me.
I laugh. “You can’t see my face.”
“It’s seared into my memory,” Jack says. “I don’t need to see it.”
Something is different about him tonight. It’s as if all his defenses are down, and I feel as if our relationship has shifted. I’m just not sure in what way it has.
Jack slips on his helmet and then reaches out to zip up my jacket. His touch sends an electric current sizzling through me.
“So, a few pointers. Hang on to me as tightly as you can.” His eyes gleam wickedly.