The Sapphire Affair (Jewel #1)(31)

How could she ask questions so naturally? She seemed so sure, so at ease. He was good at reading people and seeing through their lies. But he wasn’t detecting any vibes that she was working the angles. Could she really not know who he was? Was there a chance she was simply the woman he kissed last night, and not out to trip him up on a job?

Before he knew the score, it was best to play it cool.

“Surprising, isn’t it?” he answered, keeping up the banter as he tried to figure her out. “That such a rugged specimen of man could have such a dull job,” he said, wondering briefly why he didn’t just flat-out lie about his job. He’d met other women before and had never felt inclined to serve up the full truth. He’d often keep it vague and broad, saying he worked in security. But he wasn’t giving her that line. He was coming as close as he could to the truth.

She laughed and pushed her sunglasses higher on her head. “See, Jake. I’d have pegged you as the archaeologist, like Indiana Jones. A rugged adventurer.”

She didn’t know the half of it.

“Hardly. But a man can dream,” he said, then his phone blasted its ringtone for a client. The Mission: Impossible theme. “Give me one second.”

“Of course.”

Grabbing his mobile from the table, he saw Andrew’s first name blasted across the screen. Shit. No way could he take this call now—not even to sneak out at the front of the restaurant. He couldn’t risk her hearing him. He hit “Ignore,” shrugging casually, like the call was not the damn one he’d been waiting for.

“Not your sister this time?”

“Just a client. I’ll talk to him later.” Coolly, he set his phone back down on the table.

“So, little sister gets Taylor Swift, and clients get Mission: Impossible? Cute,” she said.

“Why thank you.”

The phone buzzed, rattling on the wood. A text follow-up to the call. Jake stayed stoic. He wasn’t going to pick it up. He didn’t even glance at the phone.

“Sounds important,” she said, tipping her forehead toward the device.

He shook his head. “But then we become a society where the little screen is more important than the post–fish taco conversation, and I just can’t let that happen,” he said with a small smirk, crossing his arms.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Well, aren’t you Mr. Manners.”

“I do my best.”

The phone shimmied once more, shaking in her direction. He remained impervious.

Steph laughed. “Just take it. It’s fine. I don’t mind,” she said, then her hand darted out and she picked up the phone to give it to him.

He took it.

But she must have spotted the screen, because she tilted her head to the side, her gaze fixing on the screen. “Why is your client sending you a photo of me?”

Fuck.

Time to improvise. He shrugged casually and flashed a lopsided grin as he tucked his phone into his pocket. “’Cause you’re—”

But she cut him off, and the word out of her mouth surprised him.





CHAPTER TWELVE


“Duke,” she hissed.

The name burned her tongue. She narrowed her eyes as she hunched away from the table. “Are you a friend of Duke’s?”

It was all she could imagine. That this was a sick new wrinkle in his smear campaign. That somehow he’d sent a friend to seduce her in some cruel fresh twist, then claim in a spate of horrid reviews that Ariel’s Island Eco-Adventure Tours was run by no Disney princess, but by some kind of slut.

OK, fine. Maybe that was a stretch. But why on earth would Jake, the man she met less than twenty-four hours ago, have a photo of her face on his phone? He hadn’t snapped any shots of her that she was aware of.

“Duke?” he asked as the waitress appeared.

“Sandy said dessert’s on her if you want it,” the waitress said, clasping her hands together as if this was the best news ever.

Normally, free dessert was damn good news.

But she was thrown, tossed in uncertain waters, and she couldn’t read the man across from her to figure out if she should stay or go. Jake’s expression was stony. He hardly seemed rattled, while Steph was nearly shaking. They were surrounded by handfuls of other diners, nibbling on fish tacos, drinking tropical drinks, passing the warm afternoon hours on the deck of a bar and grill. She wished she could be as laid-back as everyone else.

Including her date.

“How about a slice of mango cake with the scoop of coconut ice cream?” Jake said to the waitress, gesturing to the chalkboard menu hanging by the bar advertising today’s specials. “I can’t resist ice cream.”

“Yes, we’ll share it,” Steph added, determined now not to let him be the only cool, collected one. If he could play at mango cake détente, so could she.

“One mango cake coming right up,” the waitress said with a chipper tone and a happy swing of her elbow. She swiveled around and weaved through the tables on her way to the kitchen.

“Seriously. Who are you?” Steph said as she crossed her arms. “And why did someone send you a picture of me?”

“Who is Duke?” he countered.

She was undeterred. If Jake had anything whatsoever to do with the * who tried to take down her business, she needed to know now. “I bet he sent you that shot of me,” she said, then reached out her hand, as if she could somehow grab his phone, even though he’d slid it inside his pocket.