Jude would have a conniption and she was looking forward to seeing him in person too much to ruin it by giving him a conniption. Two long—very long—weeks had passed since they'd been face-to-face during their perfume-making lesson.
The strip mall should be just up here on the left and . . . yes, it came into view exactly when expected. Navigation was always easier when it was light out, like it was now on this mild, sunny day in late March.
After turning into the lot, she spotted Jude exiting a sleek silver Mercedes sedan. He stood, watching in stillness as she whizzed closer. Despite the pressure riding on the coming dinner, seeing him again sent simple happiness cutting through the static.
If a poet and a male model were to merge into one human being, that human would look like Jude Camden. He was as contemplative as he was beautiful to look at. Modest. Reliable.Good.
She came to a stop in the parking spot next to his, stepped off the Vespa, and removed her helmet. Her hair cascaded free. “You listened to what I said the night I listed the clothing that would help you dress looser.”
“I listen to everything you say, Gemma.”
“You do? I don't even listen to a quarter of the things I say.”
He gave a subdued smile. “Since I'm going to be different from your past boyfriends in temperament, I figured a few outward adjustments to make me look more like them wouldn't hurt.” Along with a pair of great-fitting dark gray jeans and his pea coat, he had on retro-style green and white Adidas shoes.
“Statement sneakers,” she noted.
“Yeah.”
“A ring.”
“I didn't have one, so I purchased this.” He held up his hand, displaying a cylindrical platinum band.
“A faded jean shirt, open down the front, rolled up at the sleeves, and a white T-shirt underneath!”
“That suggestion of yours was oddly specific, but check.”
She beamed, pleased all out of proportion that he'd taken a few of her recommendations to heart.
His expression was circumspect, but intensity lit his eyes. She had the sense that he was cataloging every aspect of her.
She cleared her throat. “Can—can you pop your trunk, please?”
He did and she stashed her helmet there.
“Is this car new?” she asked.
“Two years old.”
“Yours?”
“It's a Bureau car, confiscated in a bust.”
“And if Vincent sees the license plate and runs it?”
“Jude McConnell will come up as the owner.”
“If Vincent gets a look at your credit card or wallet tonight?”
“Every item in my wallet, including my credit cards, belongs to Jude McConnell.” He held the passenger door open for her, then went around and slid into the driver’s seat. “It's not enough to substantiate an identity only on the internet through search engine results, LinkedIn profiles, and so on. It's still important in this day and age to get every physical detail right.” He was a perfectionist.
Everything’s going to be all right, she told herself.Shewas going to be all right because this was Jude's operation, and he could be trusted. He'd look out for her, and he'd take care of business.
Gemma was wearing her Hope and Spice perfume and Jude had to wonder if she was messing with him on purpose. Had she comprehended his reaction to this perfume and decided to use it against him?
If so, why? To make him crazy for the fun of it?
Maybe.
