“It’s a figure of speech,” I countered as lightly as I could.
“It’s a promise that I’m not going to let you forget.”
I laughed, trying to brush the thought away, but I couldn’t. Not with him still looking at me like he wanted to devour me instead of dessert. And certainly not with parts of me going wet at the very idea. Fortunately, I didn’t have to comment. The limo pulled to a smooth stop and Jake abruptly straightened. He glanced down at himself quickly, then looked back at me.
“Your hair is great, lipstick light but still good. And the dress is perfect, though you’ll probably have to tug it down right before you exit. You ready?”
I blinked at him in confusion. “Um, yes?”
He looked at me and then blew out a breath. “Press, remember? There will be pictures of us the moment the door opens.”
A surge of panic went through me. Hell, the driver had already gotten out of the car and was walking around to open the door. Was Jake saying that there’d be flashing lights as I got out of the limo? As if I were walking a red carpet? “I can’t,” I gasped.
“Sure you can. You look great.”
His smile was all charm and reassurance. But, oh shit, he said my lipstick was light. I started fumbling in my clutch, but he stilled my hand.
“Too late.”
“Wha—”
The door was pulled open and Jake winked at me before stepping out. Cameras flashed and I couldn’t stop myself from shrinking back into the limo. But then I thought,Be bold. Be bold. After all, dinner at Alinea was on the line.
So with a forced smile and a harsh tug on my skirt, I scrambled awkwardly out of the limo. Jake was there, his hand extended to help me out, thank God. Otherwise, I certainly would have tumbled on Rachel’s stilettos. Instead, he kept his grip firm enough to hold me up without bruising me. And that gave me the confidence to meet the eyes of the press.
I squared off to face them, but Jake started walking me forward. He had tucked me close enough to whisper into my ear, “Stand by the Alinea sign.”
I didn’t understand at first, but then a moment later, I figured it out. It was a joint publicity thing—we got to eat at Alinea as long as the publicity mentioned them. And what better way than by having us stand next to the restaurant sign? We had just gotten to our place when a voice cut through the crowd.
“Miss McDonald, what’s it like going out with Jake Armstrong?”
It took me a moment to realize that the reporter was talking to me. I just assumed that since Jake was the celebrity, he’d be the one fielding questions.
“Um, well, uh…” I looked at Jake. He smiled at me and squeezed my hip where his arm was wrapped supportively around me.
“Just say whatever comes to mind,” he whispered.
I swallowed and looked at the reporter. “Honestly, we’ve just gotten started. But so far, it’s been great.”
“Did he bring you flowers?” another one asked.
I glanced back at Jake, but not for reassurance. It was a kind of warning that I wasn’t going to lie. “Um, no. He gave flowers to my mother and sister. Instead, he brought me this beautiful charm bracelet.” I held it up and was immediately blinded by the camera flashes.
“Ellie’s got my number,” he quipped as he angled the charm to show off number 32.
More camera flashes, and then the reporters got to the serious questions. Rapid-fire stuff about his double play, about the White Sox, and whether the Bobcats had a chance at the pennant. Jake handled those like a pro, and now that I was off the hook, I was able to relax. He still held me close, but all I had to do was smile and not fall over on these damned heels. And that, thank God, was something I could do.
The whole thing lasted five minutes at most, but it was long enough to be impressed by his skill with the reporters, at the way he ended it himself with a wave. “Guys, you’re keeping me from dinner with the most beautiful woman in the world.” Then he maneuvered us through the press, helped by a woman who seemed to step out from the sidelines.
“Thanks, guys,” the woman said to the reporters. “You’ve got my number. If you have any more questions…” et cetera. I didn’t really hear the rest because Jake had pulled me inside. But glancing back, I saw a beautiful brunette marshaling the journalists while wearing four-inch heels.
“Gia,” I whispered, finally recognizing her.
“Yeah. But I made her promise that we’re done now. They won’t follow us inside or stalk us afterward.”
I was so startled by his statement that I tripped on the tile. He held me up, of course, but that still didn’t stop the horror rolling through me.
“They’d watch us eat? You mean, like from the bushes or something?”
