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

“Oh,” Isabelle said. Then, “Oh!” Tom’s absolute conviction about Mary’s feelings made sense now. “Well...” Isabelle said, trying to spin it. “Now you seem like a hot commodity. So it’s good.”

Jill’s look said she wasn’t buying a word of it, so Isabelle didn’t try again. She knew how embarrassed her friend was about the whole thing, but maybe grumpy-pants out in the living room wasn’t the best fit anyway. “Come on,” Isabelle said as she grabbed forks and a knife. “Cake fixes everything.”

“No, but the champagne might help,” Jill muttered.

A boomingly awkward silence fell over the living room as they took seats and Jill sliced the Bundt cake.

“Is it lemon?” Isabelle asked, trying to break the quiet, but Jill only nodded.

Tom tried next. “Jill’s an amazing baker,” he said to Mary. “That’s not usual for a chef, is it, Jill?”

“I suppose not, but my mother was a baker, so I learned how to bake before I could read.”

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“Outside Birmingham.”

“Really? Your Alabama drawl isn’t that strong.”

She grinned and seemed to finally relax a little. “I left home at sixteen and moved to California for a good long while. I suppose I didn’t want to sound country once I got there.”

Now that the conversation was going, Isabelle accidentally interrupted it with a loud moan. Three pairs of eyes locked on her. “Sorry,” she said past a mouthful of cake. “This is so good. It’s still warm.”

Tom took a big bite and made embarrassing pleased noises, too. “So good,” he agreed. “Thank you. You really are the best.”

“Well, thank you,” Jill said, raising her glass. “I’m gonna sleep a lot better to...night.” The last word dragged through her throat as if she’d tried to put the brakes on.

Tom was the only one who didn’t notice. He simply raised his glass with another “Thank you” and took a big drink. Isabelle and Mary stared at Jill for a moment before sipping from their glasses. Jill drained hers.

That must have helped, because she relaxed and told a few stories about Alabama. Then it came out that Mary was from a place in Georgia only two hours from Birmingham and they knew a lot of the same landmarks and history.

As the two women began to talk, Isabelle and Tom raised their eyebrows at each other, and each had another piece of cake.

“So,” Jill eventually asked, “are you two almost done here? There aren’t any more bad guys to catch.”

Isabelle thought Mary’s head jerked up at that, but when she looked, she didn’t catch Mary watching.

Tom shook his head. “Some of the team will probably leave, but our core group will stay until the end of the trial. The Stevensons are a small clan, but we can’t be sure how small.”

“All right,” Jill said. “Well... Before you leave, you should all come over for dinner at my place. I’ll do it up right. Try out a new menu.”

“Deal,” Tom said immediately. “You should really take up catering. You’d be the go-to caterer for every event.”

She slapped his arm, but her face glowed with pleasure. “Then I’d have to keep some kind of schedule. I like what I’ve got going on here.”

“I like it, too,” he said as Mary stood. “But that’s totally selfish on my part.”

Jill stood, too, and started for the door, but Tom held up a hand as he started to get up. “I’ll take you home.”

“I’ll drive her,” Mary said tersely.

Tom hesitated then sat slowly back down. “Okay.”

The two women left without another word. Isabelle looked at Tom next to her on the couch. “Is that a thing?” she asked in confusion.

“I don’t know. But I was kind of hoping it might be.”

“Really?”