“How did he look? Bad?” Beth asks. “I bet he looked bad. And honestly I’m shocked he found a date. She must be a train wreck too.”
I don’t mention that his date was far from a train wreck.
“I’m surprised he had the nerve to talk to Ryan,” Sara says.
As casually as I can, I ask, “Why?”
Allison answers for her instead. “Ryan tried to help him out a year ago. Gave him a job, set him up with a place to live, everything. James screwed him over so bad. Stole some money from him or something. Ryan was super pissed.”
“Yeah, but we all know if anyone is going to forgive him, it’s Ryan. Wonder who the girl is?” Sara rattles the ice around in her empty cup. A few more of those and Ray will be carrying her out of here.
I’m even more worried now. James’s return isn’t welcome, and his appearance here, with her, concerns me. I need to consider the possibility that the woman with my name and my background is using James to get close to me.
Rachel is quiet. Enough so that I’m sure she could answer every question they have.
* * *
One for the Honey, the longshot, won the race more than an hour ago and Ryan has been on cloud nine since he won a nice chunk of change on him.
We’ve circled the crowd several times, but we haven’t run across James and the woman again. And from the girls’ talk, they haven’t seen him either. My mentioning him and his companion whetted their appetite and they were greedy for a look at them both.
Ryan leans in close and whispers in my ear, “You know, the best way to spend these winnings would be to head straight for the airport and not stop until we’re on a beach in Mexico somewhere.”
I turn to face him, wrapping Ryan’s tie around my right hand and pulling him close. “I like the sound of that.” The words come out in a purr as I step closer so we’re touching from top to bottom. Evie Porter has a lot of things, but a passport isn’t one of them. Ryan has refilled his silver monogrammed cup several times, and I don’t think there is any danger these plans would become a reality—plus, he would never leave without making arrangements at work first. It’s fun to play along, though. More importantly, a girlfriend like me wouldn’t hesitate to escape to the beach.
“I’ve been dreaming about you in that pink bikini you unpacked last week.” His head dips until his lips are pressed against the side of my neck. We’re very close to causing a scene, because this is not the type of party where PDA goes unnoticed.
This is the first time I’ve seen him drink this much. He’s a happy drunk. Handsy. His feelings for me stretch across his beautiful face like an open book, and everyone here gets a peek. “We don’t have to be on the beach for me to show you that pink bikini.” A quick glance around our immediate area tells me we’re already the subject of several whispered conversations. We linger like this a few more minutes, because my goal today was to solidify myself as Ryan’s girlfriend, and all anyone will talk about was how he was all over me.
But now that it seems like James and the woman are gone, I’m ready to leave too. The sooner I can get out of here, the sooner I can figure out what is going on.
“You get the valet to pull your car around and I’ll drive us home,” I say, loosening my grip on his tie and stepping back from him.
Ryan leans in for a kiss and I don’t resist him. It’s slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that makes you want more.
And wanting more is dangerous.
I give myself thirty seconds to live in the world where this is real. Where my boyfriend is declaring his affection for me in front of all these people and there’s nothing to stop this relationship from continuing indefinitely. Where there is no question about who I really am or what my motives are.
But too soon, time is up. “Everyone is staring at us,” I whisper against his lips.
Ryan keeps his eyes on me. “Good.” Then he pulls me toward the valet stand while digging in his pocket with his free hand for some tip money and the ticket to claim his car. His friends are scattered around the party, and neither of us make any effort to say good-bye.
I throw my heels and hat in the back seat as soon as I’m behind the wheel, then scoot the seat up. Ryan reclines his seat back, just enough that he’s still upright but barely. His eyes close as he begins to hum along with the song playing on the radio.
I like seeing him like this. On a normal day, he can be wound up pretty tight and a bit grumpy if there’s a problem at work, but now, he’s relaxed. Loose. There’s that part of me I hate, when my next thoughts wander to what I can find out from him while his guard is down. How many secrets can I pry out of those loose lips?
His hand reaches across the space separating us, his fingers tangling with mine.
“Lucca,” he says, and that single word punctures my lungs, making it hard to drag in a breath. My hand on the steering wheel grips tight, and it’s the only thing that stops this car from flying off the road and landing in the ditch.
Before my brain can come up with any words, he says, “That girl with James.” His eyes are still closed so he doesn’t witness my silent hysteria. “She said something weird after you went to the bathroom.”
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Deep breath in through my nose. Slow and steady out of my mouth. Two more times.
“What did she say?” I ask in what I hope is a bored voice.
“Just before they walked away, she said James was hoping to reconnect with me but said it so he wouldn’t hear her. Said she’d love to get to know you too.”
That bitch.
“Huh,” I say. “Why is that weird?”
“The last time I saw him, things were . . . strained. I’ve learned to be cautious where James is concerned,” he says with a grumble. “She seems nice enough, though. Too good for him.”
I’m fuming. Still open to all options as to why she’s here, but there’s no way this is some sort of crazy coincidence.
Ryan turns on his side, his cheek resting on the seat, his eyes on me. “I’m not bailing him out again. Nope. I’m done. He’s her problem now.”
I drag our joined hands into my lap, squeezing gently. He smiles a loopy smile and I’m hoping this entire conversation is fuzzy tomorrow. “Hmm . . . you like that bikini, huh?” I untangle my fingers from his but keep his hand on my thigh.
He perks up, his eyes sweeping from my face down my body. I slide his hand under the hem of my dress, dragging his fingers against the lace top of my thigh highs. His eyes get big, surprised to find what I’m hiding underneath, but he wastes no time latching on to the straps holding them up.
Not many women wear stockings anymore, and I agree they were invented by the devil, but I’ve yet to find a man who could resist the garters, and you never know when you’ll need a guaranteed distraction.
And what I need more than anything right now is to ensure that when Ryan thinks back to this car ride home, the memory that crystallizes clearer than all the others will not include Lucca Marino.
Chapter 9
Present Day
I hate coming here during off hours but after yesterday this visit couldn’t wait. The UPS store is closed to the public on Sunday mornings, so I enter my code on the keypad to gain entrance, then make my way to the back as quickly as possible.
As much as I try to predict what everyone will do, the one thing that is completely unpredictable is what I will find in the mailbox.
Every job is different, and the only way my boss can control the job—and me—is by keeping me in the dark as long as possible. I’m fed just enough to move forward but not so much that I can get ahead or change the game.
And of course, I’m never told who the client is because, you know . . . control.
The first piece of information I get is the location. I learn everything there is to know about the town where I’ll be sent.
The name of the mark comes next.
I’m one of those lucky people who read something once and it’s forever filed away in one of those deep corners of my brain. Because of that, it’s easy to recall the typed piece of paper that introduced me to Ryan.