The door opened, Frank poked his head in to give her a heads-up, and then let Josh in. She watched him approach in a crisp white button-down shirt, gray dress pants, and leather shoes. His stride was purposeful and confident. For a brief moment she had a sense they were having a business meeting. Something was different about him. Not just the dressier clothes. An attitude. The way he held himself. Fury rose up in her. She’d been played. He’d been calculating how to get the most out of his time with her. He must’ve known who she was all along. She’d suspected he knew something at their last meeting. Who told? Did one of her new friends betray her? Mad? Hailey? She didn’t want that to be true. Maybe he’d recognized her. She really hoped that was it.
He stopped on the other side of the table, directly across from her, and stared. “I can’t believe it was really you. I’m still in shock.”
“Like you didn’t know.”
“I didn’t know. Not until I saw you at lunch today.” He kept staring. “Your hair and eyes were so different, and you acted almost shy as Jenny. You’re not shy at all, are you?”
“No.” And now she felt a little paranoid. She’d been about to dump her new friends over an imagined betrayal. She rubbed her forehead. “Please, have a seat.”
He pulled out a chair and took a seat, his eyes never leaving hers. “Your eyes were so green. Contacts, right?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She ignored the question. She couldn’t give him any more ammunition. Not until she knew what he’d do with what he already knew. She steepled her hands on the table, keeping a carefully neutral expression. “So now you know I’m Jenny. What do you plan to do with this information?”
“Why did you do it?” He studied her, searching her expression. It reminded her of how warm he’d been—smiling at her, talking, playing around, kissing her.
She stifled a sigh. That time was over. “What does it matter?”
“Is this why you couldn’t see me anymore? Because you’re famous?”
“Yes.”
He frowned, a deep V forming between his brows. “Because I’m a nobody bartender. You think you’re above that.”
Her hackles rose. She was as down-to-earth as anyone when you got to know her. It was just that she had to keep her social circle small, by necessity. “Of course not.”
“Sounds exactly like that to me.” He spread his arms wide across the backs of the chairs next to him and leaned back insolently in his seat. “Claire Jordan is too big for the little people.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” she snapped. She told herself to calm down, not to give him any more dirt for the whopper of a story he already had, but it was extremely difficult, especially now when he was smirking at her.
He dropped his arms from the chairs and slowly leaned forward, a challenge in those deep brown eyes. “Then explain it in your own words.”
“I don’t have to explain anything to you.”
“Then what am I doing here?” he asked in an arrogant tone. Like he knew he had her in a vulnerable position.
She wanted to squeeze him by the throat. She couldn’t believe this was the same warm charming gentleman bartender she’d been thinking longingly of, wishing she could see him for a third date and a fourth and augh. She had a quick internal battle between ordering him out or proceeding as rationally as possible. Then he spoke again, arrogant as all hell, and rational took a hike.
“Again, I ask you, Claire Jordan, what am I doing here?”
“Get out,” she spat, too irritated for any kind of negotiating.
He leaned back in his seat. “No.”
She leapt to her feet. “No? I’ll have you kicked out of here the moment I raise my voice. Frank will—”
“Sit down.”
“Who the hell—”
“Come on,” he said in a bored tone like she was the one wasting his time. “You got me all the way here to your supersecret meeting spot. What do you want?”
She sat abruptly, stunned that he was asking what she wanted. This whole thing was about what he wanted from her. “What do I want?”
“Yeah.”
“I want to know what you plan to do with this information. I want to know if you have pictures.”
He looked at her like she was nuts. “Pictures? Did you see me taking pictures?”
“Maybe when I was sleeping.”
“I slept like the dead after you had your way with me. Three wicked times. Maybe you’re the one with pictures.”
She snort-laughed, surprising herself. “First of all, no. Second of all, who would want them?”