“Oh, I’m particularly fond of this flavor,” I say with a thin smile.
Jackie shakes her head, her hair catching the light, her full lips pursing. I canfeelthe silkiness and heat of her mouth, like a phantom kiss on my skin, whenever I’m stuck staring at them and remember how they used to taste.
Her next words feel like a cold shower.
“Do you seriously lack basic sense?”
The knee-jerk reaction is swift. “You’re the last person who should talk about that.”
She looks genuinely confused, which somehow pisses me off even more. But I’m not about to get into it. Not here. Not ever. She couldn’t be bothered to talk to me back then, and just disappeared off to London. I don’t owe her anything.
Where the hell is that waiter?
I pretend not to notice Carter’s scowl as I order another drink. I down most of it in one go, earning a shocked look from Jackie, but I ignore her too.
Everybody’s caught up in their conversations when Alexandra returns, the red lipstick fresh on her lips and perfect brown curls cascading over her shoulder.
“I love your dress,” she decides to say to Jackie. “I wish I had the confidence to wear something so…snug.”
The backhanded compliment doesn’t rattle Jackie, and she doesn’t miss a beat, leaning in with a cool smile.
“Thank you,” she replies, her voice polished by years of media training. “It’s easy when there’s something worth showing off.”
Alexandra forces an awkward chuckle, quickly retreating behind her champagne glass. I can’t muster even a shred of sympathy for her embarrassment.
And Jackie’s not wrong. She looks unfairly good in that tight black dress, the fabric sliding over every curve, enough supple skin on display to make you wonder what you’d find underneath if you peeled it off.
Unfortunately, I don’t have to imagine it. I still dream about her…too vividly.
“Wow, this looks amazing,” Carter’s aunt gushes over the dessert, arriving at the perfect time to break the tension.
The wave of guilt swells within me, washing away the fleeting satisfaction of having the upper hand over Jackie, as Eliza’sglance shifts between her and Carter. His simmering annoyance is hard to miss. I’m fucking this up for them, and they don’t deserve it.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Thank God for the interruption, giving me an excuse to step out to take the call. Pacing the dim coatroom while I talk to my assistant unwinds some of the tension coiled in my body. I take my sweet time, in no rush to face the Rawlings’ inevitable looks of disappointment.
Then the sharp click-clack of high heels against the marble foyer catches my attention.
My gaze shifts, drawn to Jackie’s silhouette as she strides toward the restaurant exit, moving with purpose.
“Leaving so soon?” My voice booms in the quiet space, and it stops her in her tracks, along with her bodyguard, who’s poised to jump, one hand on his holster.
Brilliant move, Adam. Fucking brilliant. I have to remember that her security detail is on edge right now, and she’s no longer the twenty-two-year-old Jackie who used to roam freely through New York, showing a small-town boy around the city.
Jackie lifts her palm to stop the ex-military-looking guy from filling me with lead, and walks toward me, an angry frown making her look like a vengeful goddess.
“What’s the matter, Jackie?” I don’t know why I’m taunting her.
“You had to mess this up,” she hisses.
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“I know you.” Her voice clips. “And I keep hoping you’ll—” She breaks off, frustration seeping through. “God, Adam. I keep hoping there’s still something left in—”
Her voice jumps an octave, then cuts off again, her lip trembling. And there she is, the real Jackie, no mask to hide behind.
“You have no idea who I am anymore,” I say quietly. “It’s been eight years.”
“And it’s not long enough!” Jackie’s breath is labored, her eyes narrowed as she steps closer. Too close. I can’t think clearly.
