A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney #2)(52)

Because he didn’t. Undercover agents didn’t allow themselves to become attached to a case or anyone involved with it.

He wasn’t complaining—he’d signed on for this. He’d worked hard to get where he was, and being the best undercover agent in the Chicago field office was a major accomplishment. It was his specialty, the thing that differentiated him from the other agents in the office. Without that distinction, he’d be just another guy with a badge, a gun, and cool facial scruff. Hell, he’d be Pallas.

That alone was more than enough motivation to get his head back in the game.

“You and me both, Huxley,” he told his partner. “The faster we can wrap this up, the better. For all of us.”

Nineteen

JORDAN FEIGNED A pleasant smile for her customers. “What do you think?”

The couple, in their late twenties, looked at each other. “I like it,” the woman said, swirling the two-ounce pour of chardonnay.

“I like it, too,” the man agreed. “It’s not as buttery as a lot of chardonnays I’ve tasted. Let’s get a bottle.”

“Perfect.” Jordan rang them up. Then she headed over to one of the tables in the corner, where a group of women in their early forties were drinking wines by the glass. “How are you ladies doing? Can I answer any questions about the wine?” When she had finished there, she moved to the next table, then to the racks where a few additional customers were browsing, before hurrying back to the bar to ring up one of her regulars.

“Busy tonight,” he noted.

Jordan bagged up his four bottles. “Can’t complain.” Actually, she could complain—quite easily, in fact—but she wouldn’t. Not around customers, anyway.

The stomach flu had struck DeVine Cellars.

Both of her sales associates had been out sick since Monday, which meant that she and Martin had to divide all the shifts between the two of them. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but she had visited Kyle that morning, per usual, so Martin had opened the store and she had to work the evening shift—by far the busiest time—alone. As such, she’d been running around almost nonstop since five thirty, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t even had a chance to go to the bathroom, and was feeling more than a little crabby.

But not in front of the customers.

She plastered on another smile as she made her way around the bar and scooted toward the back hall. It looked as though everyone was content for the next thirty seconds, so this was her chance to make a run for it.

The chime on the front door rang.

Son of a bitch. If one more friggin’ customer came through that friggin’ door before she’d had a chance to pee, somebody was going to get a corkscrew up his—

She hurried around the corner to check the door and barreled right into a tall, hard body.

Nick.

He caught her in his arms. “Whoa. Looks like somebody missed me,” he said in a teasing tone.

Jordan pleaded with her eyes. “Please help me.”

His expression turned serious. “Anything. Name it.”

“Oh, thank you.” Jordan put her hands on Nick’s hips and turned him around to face the rest of the store. “Stand here. Make sure that nobody steals anything or sneaks a glass of wine.” She took a step down the hallway before glancing back. “And don’t touch anything.” She hurried to the bathroom before her eyeballs turned yellow and floated out of her skull.

When she returned, she found Nick still at his post.

He pointed to the door. “Is it okay that these two guys came in with a wheelbarrow and took off with a couple crates of wine? They only took the pink stuff, so I figured no one would kick up much of a fuss.”

“Ha, ha.” Jordan scooted around him and slid behind the bar. “Thanks for keeping an eye out. What are you doing here, anyway?” She checked herself, aware there were others around. “I mean, this is such a pleasant surprise. Sweetie.”

Nick shrugged. “I worked late this evening and was about to drive home when I was overcome with the sudden urge to see my girlfriend.”

Code for being followed, Jordan guessed. “I’m closing in twenty minutes. We could grab something to eat after that.”

Nick checked his watch. “You haven’t eaten dinner yet? It’ll be after nine thirty before you get out of here.”

She threw him a charming smile. “Nine twenty if I have help cleaning up the store from my sweetheart of a boyfriend.” She saw a customer approach the bar on the opposite end and left Nick grumbling to himself. A few minutes later, when she came up for air, she noticed that he was gone. She looked around the store, not seeing him anywhere, but didn’t have time to focus on that until after the last customer had left the store.

Jordan shut the door and locked it with a flourish. She’d survived.

No offense to all her wonderful customers, whose business she appreciated so much, but she thought they’d never get the hell out. She drew the shades on the front windows and looked around the store.

Crap, it was a disaster.

She heard a knock on the door. She walked over, ready to tell whoever it was that the store was closed for the day. Instead, she saw Nick through the glass. She unlocked the door and let him in.

He was still grumbling. “You’re already too skinny,” he said gruffly. “If my mother saw you, she would handcuff you to the kitchen table and make you eat lasagna for a week.” He held up two bags from Portillo’s. “I didn’t know if billionaire heiresses preferred hot dogs, burgers, or Italian beef—I’ll skip the obvious joke there—so I got one of each.”