A Lot like Love (FBI/US Attorney #2)(55)
Either on her way to or from the gym, Jordan guessed. “Can I help you?”
The woman seemed to ponder this question for a moment. “I’m just looking for now.” She looked around the store, as if checking to see if anyone else was around.
Jordan wondered if Martin had finally found a woman who appreciated a light-bodied, bow-tie-wearing pinot. “Take your time. If you have any questions, let me know.”
The woman paused. “Actually, the hell with it. I do have a question.” She stalked over to the bar. “Is it serious between you and Nick?”
The question, completely unexpected, caught Jordan off guard. “I’m sorry?”
“Nick McCall. Is it serious between the two of you?”
Jordan took a moment to respond, thinking carefully about her answer. “I know a Nick Stanton, but not a Nick McCall.” She looked the woman over. “I’m sorry—I didn’t catch your name.”
“Lisa. And the name of the guy who was in your store last night is Nick McCall. Trust me—I would know. I know Nick very well.”
Reasonable reaction or not, Jordan caught herself bristling at the implication. “If you know Nick so well, why do you need to ask me if things are serious?”
Lisa shifted uncomfortably, seeming to hedge a little. “I haven’t heard from him for a couple weeks. Then I happened to see him yesterday in his car. I followed him here and thought I’d catch him inside the store, until I spotted you two through the door. You looked cozy.”
Apparently, the Nick and Jordan show was picking up viewers every day. “I think this is a conversation you need to have with Nick, not me.”
Lisa laughed at that. “Maybe you don’t know him that well after all. Because if you did, you’d know that you don’t ask Nick questions. It’s part of his whole no-strings-attached, I-don’t-do-relationships routine.” She raised an eyebrow. “Or hasn’t he given you that speech yet?”
Hearing the other woman’s words, Jordan felt it. A pang of disappointment, strong enough that she had no choice but to acknowledge it.
Nick didn’t do relationships.
It should’ve meant nothing. Of course he hadn’t given her any such speech—there’d been no reason for him to. Because, just like she’d thought, any connection between them was imaginary.
With that in mind, she managed to maintain a nonchalant air in front of Lisa. This was her store, and no one was going to make her look like a fool in it. “You don’t really expect me to tell you what Nick and I talk about, do you?” she asked coolly.
“Oh . . . I get it. You haven’t slept with him yet, have you?” Lisa smiled smugly. “Listen, honey, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’ll hear his speech soon enough—right before he f**ks you. It’s part of his code or whatever. Trust me, lots of women have been down this road with Nick.”
Jordan pretended to think this over. “Thanks for the tip, Lisa. This all has been very informative. Particularly the creepy part where you said you followed Nick and stood outside my store watching us.” She pointed to a wine display. “Hey—you know what I like to do after stalking an ex-boyfriend? Pour myself a nice glass of petite syrah. And you’re in luck, because we’re having a sale on reds today . . .”
ACROSS THE STREET, Mercks’s investigator, a man named Tennyson, froze with the camera in his hands when the door to DeVine Cellars flew open. The brunette in yoga pants stormed out, looking pissed. She crossed the street, heading straight toward the car he sat in.
Tennyson panicked. On a whim, he’d decided to follow Jordan Rhodes to see if she gave them something. Anything. Because after eleven days of tailing Stanton, they’d come up with nothing of any significance to report to Eckhart. By now he was familiar with Stanton’s routine: the guy wouldn’t leave his office for lunch until one o’clock, which meant he had plenty of time to kill.
At first, tailing Jordan Rhodes had seemed to be no less boring than following Stanton. Tennyson had parked his car across the street, and using the zoom on his camera, he could see into the wine store through the front windows. Rhodes made a lot of phone calls, worked at the bar on her laptop computer, and rearranged wine bottles. Really exciting stuff.
But then the brunette with the bombshell figure had shown up, and things had gotten interesting.
Tennyson initially had assumed that the brunette was a customer, and from what he could tell through the camera lens, Jordan Rhodes had assumed that, too. But then the brunette had said something that had made Rhodes tense, and Tennyson had begun paying closer attention. No clue what either woman had said, but from their rigid body language, he personally had been hoping for a cat fight. Then Rhodes smiled, gestured to some wine bottles on the bar, and the brunette stormed out.
Tennyson quickly tossed the camera onto the passenger seat beside him and covered it up with the backpack filled with snacks, water, and cigarettes he always kept on hand during a surveillance. He grabbed his cell phone off the dash and pretended to make a call.
The brunette pulled out her keys and pushed the unlock button, and the lights on the car in front of him blinked. So far, she hadn’t noticed him. Tennyson watched out of the corner of his eye as she yanked a cell phone out of her coat pocket and dialed. He’d had a smoke in the car a few minutes earlier, and had cracked the window open to get some fresh air. As such, he was in a perfect position to hear her end of the conversation as she approached her car. It sounded like she was leaving a voice mail message for someone.