A Lot like Love
Page 75
Despite the teasing, Nick remained silent. Another assignment. It was all happening so quickly.
“Still there, McCall?”
“Yes. Just thinking that this conversation seems a little premature. I’m not finished with the Eckhart investigation yet.”
“According to Huxley, you guys are close. He seemed fairly confident we’d be able to wrap things up after Eckhart’s meeting with Trilani on Tuesday. Do you disagree?”
Nick paused. “No.”
“Glad to hear it. In addition to tying you up, I’ve had three agents practically living in a van outside Bordeaux for the last two weeks. The sooner we can finish this, the better,” Davis said. “I know you’ve got your New York trip coming up, but as soon as you’re back I figured we can start prepping you for your next case.”
Nick knew this was how it worked. It was how he’d done things since he’d begun working undercover several years ago. He went from assignment to assignment and didn’t think twice about it. But now . . .
He looked through the window and saw Jordan standing next to the bed, packing the white dress into her open suitcase.
Like it or not, it was decision time.
JORDAN WAS BEGINNING to get nervous.
Nick had been acting strangely ever since he’d received the phone call at the resort. It was just like the time he’d gotten the call from “Ethan” at Eckhart’s party—she knew something was up. Sure, he’d put forth a good effort during the drive from Napa to the airport, and again during their flight home, but she could see it in his eyes.
She’d asked him twice what was wrong and had gotten nowhere. She’d begun to think she needed to break out some seriously badass interrogation tactics—and then realized she had no such tactics. Although he did respond well to the thong and high heels technique.
Something to keep in mind.
When they got back to her house, Nick left his suitcase by the front door and carried hers upstairs to her bedroom. Jordan waited in the kitchen, eying that suitcase by the front door and becoming more worried as she contemplated its meaning. If she was reading between the lines and speculating about Nick’s mysterious behavior—something she didn’t want to do, but since he wasn’t telling her anything she had no choice—she would have to say that it didn’t appear as though he planned to stay the night.
Suddenly, she had a bad feeling she knew why Nick was behaving so oddly. She had only asked him for a weekend, and now that weekend was over.
She heard him coming down the stairs and pulled herself together. She was overreacting, obviously. She had to be. He liked her, and they’d just spent an incredible two days together. There was no reason to start getting all worried and presumptuous now.
She threw on a smile when he entered the kitchen. “Thank you for carrying that upstairs for me,” she said, referring to her suitcase.
“Just how many bottles of wine did you stash in there?” he asked.
“Actually, it’s the shoes.” She tried to look casual. “So, should we talk about this thing you’ve been avoiding all day?”
Standing at the opposite end of the counter, Nick nodded. “Yes. Sorry—I’ve been mulling a few things over in my head.” He took a moment, as if deciding where to begin. “That call this morning was from my boss. He wanted to talk about my next undercover assignment.”
Jordan blinked in surprise. “Your next assignment? You haven’t even finished the one with Xander yet.”
“Eckhart plans to meet with Trilani on Tuesday morning,” he said. “I think we’ll probably be able to wrap things up after that.”
Jordan’s heart sank. So soon. Sure, she’d known the end of the investigation was looming, but she hadn’t realized it was this close. “When do you begin your next assignment? I assume you at least get some time off, right?”
Nick shook his head. “Not much. I’d planned to go to New York to spend a few days with my family, and when I come back my boss wants me to start getting up to speed on the next assignment.”
What about us?
Jordan caught the words just before they spilled out of her mouth. Nick’s expression was unreadable, and it occurred to her: perhaps she hadn’t been overreacting to the suitcase by the door. Perhaps, despite all the sweet words and the really, really fantastic sex and her gut instinct, she’d been wrong to think that her weekend with him had become something more than just a weekend.
In other words, perhaps she’d just become a Lisa.
Nick hadn’t made a single promise to her over the weekend. In fact, he hadn’t once brought up the subject of what might happen once they got back to Chicago. For her part, she’d deliberately avoided the issue, not wanting to look too pushy or needy. Besides, she’d figured, she was the one who’d taken the first step and asked him to go to Napa with her. Which meant the next move was his.
And now he seemed to be making that move. Backward. Right out her front door.
Still, she wasn’t ready to give up just yet. She kept her cool, resolved to hear whatever it was Nick had to say. Assuming he had something to say.
“What kind of assignment is it?” she asked. There—she’d even managed to pull off sounding casual.
He shifted uneasily. Not a good sign.
“I could choose either a motorcycle gang or insider trading,” he said.
You could choose neither, she thought.
But she didn’t say it.
“Still there, McCall?”
“Yes. Just thinking that this conversation seems a little premature. I’m not finished with the Eckhart investigation yet.”
“According to Huxley, you guys are close. He seemed fairly confident we’d be able to wrap things up after Eckhart’s meeting with Trilani on Tuesday. Do you disagree?”
Nick paused. “No.”
“Glad to hear it. In addition to tying you up, I’ve had three agents practically living in a van outside Bordeaux for the last two weeks. The sooner we can finish this, the better,” Davis said. “I know you’ve got your New York trip coming up, but as soon as you’re back I figured we can start prepping you for your next case.”
Nick knew this was how it worked. It was how he’d done things since he’d begun working undercover several years ago. He went from assignment to assignment and didn’t think twice about it. But now . . .
He looked through the window and saw Jordan standing next to the bed, packing the white dress into her open suitcase.
Like it or not, it was decision time.
JORDAN WAS BEGINNING to get nervous.
Nick had been acting strangely ever since he’d received the phone call at the resort. It was just like the time he’d gotten the call from “Ethan” at Eckhart’s party—she knew something was up. Sure, he’d put forth a good effort during the drive from Napa to the airport, and again during their flight home, but she could see it in his eyes.
She’d asked him twice what was wrong and had gotten nowhere. She’d begun to think she needed to break out some seriously badass interrogation tactics—and then realized she had no such tactics. Although he did respond well to the thong and high heels technique.
Something to keep in mind.
When they got back to her house, Nick left his suitcase by the front door and carried hers upstairs to her bedroom. Jordan waited in the kitchen, eying that suitcase by the front door and becoming more worried as she contemplated its meaning. If she was reading between the lines and speculating about Nick’s mysterious behavior—something she didn’t want to do, but since he wasn’t telling her anything she had no choice—she would have to say that it didn’t appear as though he planned to stay the night.
Suddenly, she had a bad feeling she knew why Nick was behaving so oddly. She had only asked him for a weekend, and now that weekend was over.
She heard him coming down the stairs and pulled herself together. She was overreacting, obviously. She had to be. He liked her, and they’d just spent an incredible two days together. There was no reason to start getting all worried and presumptuous now.
She threw on a smile when he entered the kitchen. “Thank you for carrying that upstairs for me,” she said, referring to her suitcase.
“Just how many bottles of wine did you stash in there?” he asked.
“Actually, it’s the shoes.” She tried to look casual. “So, should we talk about this thing you’ve been avoiding all day?”
Standing at the opposite end of the counter, Nick nodded. “Yes. Sorry—I’ve been mulling a few things over in my head.” He took a moment, as if deciding where to begin. “That call this morning was from my boss. He wanted to talk about my next undercover assignment.”
Jordan blinked in surprise. “Your next assignment? You haven’t even finished the one with Xander yet.”
“Eckhart plans to meet with Trilani on Tuesday morning,” he said. “I think we’ll probably be able to wrap things up after that.”
Jordan’s heart sank. So soon. Sure, she’d known the end of the investigation was looming, but she hadn’t realized it was this close. “When do you begin your next assignment? I assume you at least get some time off, right?”
Nick shook his head. “Not much. I’d planned to go to New York to spend a few days with my family, and when I come back my boss wants me to start getting up to speed on the next assignment.”
What about us?
Jordan caught the words just before they spilled out of her mouth. Nick’s expression was unreadable, and it occurred to her: perhaps she hadn’t been overreacting to the suitcase by the door. Perhaps, despite all the sweet words and the really, really fantastic sex and her gut instinct, she’d been wrong to think that her weekend with him had become something more than just a weekend.
In other words, perhaps she’d just become a Lisa.
Nick hadn’t made a single promise to her over the weekend. In fact, he hadn’t once brought up the subject of what might happen once they got back to Chicago. For her part, she’d deliberately avoided the issue, not wanting to look too pushy or needy. Besides, she’d figured, she was the one who’d taken the first step and asked him to go to Napa with her. Which meant the next move was his.
And now he seemed to be making that move. Backward. Right out her front door.
Still, she wasn’t ready to give up just yet. She kept her cool, resolved to hear whatever it was Nick had to say. Assuming he had something to say.
“What kind of assignment is it?” she asked. There—she’d even managed to pull off sounding casual.
He shifted uneasily. Not a good sign.
“I could choose either a motorcycle gang or insider trading,” he said.
You could choose neither, she thought.
But she didn’t say it.
