Her gaze darted toward him.
He smiled as he sat in the seat across from her. Sipped his coffee. He hadn’t pressured her yet for details about how she’d come to appear in that bar last night. Remy had just let her eat. Been a warm, reassuring presence. And he’d even tugged on a t-shirt. One that stretched across him because it was too tight. Or because his muscles were too big. Something. She should probably not be noticing his muscles or how toe-curling that smile of his was. Not in light of her current circumstances. But she did.
Oh, she did.
Jacqueline put down her fork. “I should get ready to leave.”
“Um.” Another sip of his coffee.
“I don’t suppose you have a…girlfriend who might have left some clothes around here? Things I could borrow? Shoes?” Shoes would be amazing.
“No girlfriend.”
Her breath released. Holy crap, had that just been asighof relief that escaped her?
“But there are some clothes that would probably work for you. The previous occupant just boxed up stuff and left it. I was gonna donate it but didn’t get around to it. Not yet. I think there are some sweatpants and tops upstairs.” His gaze seemed to twinkle. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and find some shoes.”
“I don’t tend to get very lucky.” Such a true statement. “My luck is more the opposite.” The worst ever. Case in point? Her mad escape from New Orleans all the way to Halfway, Georgia.A rush that had included taking nothing but the clothes on her back and the ring that had been shoved on her finger.
But she’d ditched that ring. Now she could start again. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d started over from scratch. Perhaps it would even be thelasttime. But before she could begin that new life plan, she had to make sure the people following her lost her trail. “Bad luck follows me,” she murmured.Just like that creep last night.
“Hmm.” Very noncommittal. Remy sipped again.
She felt twitchy. “I know I’ve already asked for a ton, but after I search for the clothes, could you…is there any way I could get a ride to…”
He lifted his brows. Waited.
Jacqueline dropped her stare to the table.
“Where do you need to go, Jacqueline?”
“You can call me Jackie. Lots of people do.”
“Where do you need to go, Jacqueline?” Remy repeated.
Okay, obviously, he was not lots of people. She cleared her throat. “I don’t technically have a place in mind. A destination, I mean.” Not yet. When you were running blindly, you didn’t plan. You fled.
“Uh, huh.” Another sip. How much coffee was left in his mug? “So you don’t have a place to go…and I noticed you didn’t exactly have a purse or wallet on you.”
No.
“Do you have access to a bank account?”
If she accessed her account,hewould find her. Or his goons would. She had to go off-grid and stay there for a while.
“Do you need money, Jacqueline?”
Again with that sexy rumble. When he said her full name, her stomach clenched. Odd because she’d always hated hername. So formal. Stuffy. But Remy made it sound sensual. Beautiful. Jacqueline pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m not taking money from you.”
“Last night, you said if I got you away from the bastard on the bike, you’d doanythingto repay me.”
Her stomach didn’t just clench. It dropped. She also leapt to her feet and her fast movement sent her chair slamming down onto the floor behind her. It hit and sounded like a whip cracking. “I’m not sleeping—” Jacqueline began hotly.
His soft laughter cut through her words. “You are obsessed with that. I told you before, not on my agenda. I don’t routinely pay women for sex.” A wink. “I don’t have to do that.”
Right. Sure. Now she could feel the burn in her cheeks. No way would Remy be paying for sex. Not a guy who oozed hotness and sex appeal the way he did. She needed to calm down and be grateful to the man who had literally been her hero the night before. “I’m sorry, I misunderstood, I didn’t—”
“Ever done any nude modeling?”