Flirting with Disaster (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 2)

“You haven’t met the judge?” Jill asked.

“I don’t think so. You know how I am.”

“Hermit-y?” Jill tossed out.

Isabelle nodded. She wasn’t ashamed of being a hermit. And she had damn good reason to avoid a federal judge.

“Well, his daughter is the one who writes that advice column. Do you know her?”

“Dear Veronica? Really? She seems damn cool, but I’ve never met her. Have—?” Her words were cut off by the doorbell.

Jill disappeared into the front room. For a moment, Isabelle had a hopeful thought that maybe Jill’s girlfriend had dropped everything and flown in to try to make things work. But no. The military wasn’t that big on romantic gestures, even for a lieutenant colonel.

Then the door opened, and Isabelle heard a man’s voice. His voice. She jumped up and stared at the kitchen doorway in alarm. If she stayed hidden, she didn’t have anything to worry about. He couldn’t know she was here. Unless he’d followed her tracks through the snow. But what did he want?

She crept closer to the doorway, carefully keeping behind the wall. There was a living room and a short hallway between her and the front door, but his voice was deep, and she heard it rumbling as he spoke to Jill. Just a follow-up visit, hopefully. If this was really all about the judge, then—

The door closed, and Jill’s footsteps started back toward the kitchen. But she wasn’t alone. There were two sets of footsteps, one heavier than the other. Isabelle froze, her brain taking too long to respond to the change in situation, and she’d only just realized she should sneak back toward the couch when Jill stepped in. And he followed.

Jill’s chin jerked back in shock as she caught sight of Isabelle and did a double take. Tom Duncan’s nice dark eyebrows rose at the way she was huddled against the wall.

Isabelle stared up at him as she realized she’d pressed herself into a corner between the kitchen countertop and the doorway. It looked as if she’d been doing exactly what she had been. Hiding and eavesdropping. Damn it. She glared in defense at the man’s questioning look.

Jill cleared her throat. “Look who decided to join us. I told him yesterday that he could stop by for dinner. Tom, you remember Isabelle.”

“Ms. West,” he said.

“I didn’t tell you my name,” she responded. Jill glared at her, but she ignored it.

His surprised eyebrows finally dropped, and he nodded. “It’s my job to find out these sorts of things.”

“Just out of innocent curiosity?” Isabelle countered.

“No, it’s more about protecting the target. What if you were the cousin of the defendant?”

“Hmm.”

“I told him your name,” Jill said. “Regardless, he’s staying for dinner.”

He finally smiled, transforming his face from hard to handsome, but the look was all for Jill. “I really hope your offer was genuine, but I guess I’m here even if it wasn’t.”

“Of course it was genuine! Don’t pay any attention to Isabelle. She’s in the middle of a project. She’d much rather deal with her two-dimensional people.”

Isabelle didn’t deny it. “They’re simple,” she said. “Real people are way more trouble.”

Jill hurried back to her task. “But we’re much more fun, aren’t we?”

“Some of you.”

“It doesn’t matter. There’s no paint here, so you’re not being interrupted. Now,” Jill tossed over her shoulder, “pour Marshal Duncan a glass of wine.”

“I’d better not,” he said. “I’m not on duty right now, but I’m still the supervisor in charge. And it’s just Tom, please. Eating the neighbor’s food isn’t part of my official duties. Speaking of... That Stroganoff was delicious. The whole damn house was jealous. Pardon my language.”

Jill roared with laughter at that. “Please. I expect fouler language than that before this bottle of wine is gone.”

“Okay,” Isabelle volunteered, filling her glass again. “I’ll get to work on that.”

“All right, but bring the wine to the table.”