They stood very close, Jordan noticed. As in, end-of-the-date, do-I-invite-him-inside close. Which made no sense, considering this arrangement between her and Nick was all a charade.

They both fell silent for a few seconds. The night, the street, and everything else suddenly felt very still. Finally, Jordan gestured to her house. “I should probably get going inside. Subzero temperatures out here and all.”

Nick pointed to his car. “Right. And I need to get home. Have to get up bright and early for my fake job.”

“Okay, then.”

“Great.”

Neither of them moved.

“So I guess I’ll see you later,” Jordan said. She turned to go—if for no other reason, her feet were beginning to freeze in her boots and pretty soon she wouldn’t be able to move.

Nick caught her hand. “Jordan.”

He said her name so quietly, if it hadn’t been for the relative silence of the night, she might have missed it. When she turned around, his eyes were looking into hers as if searching for something.

Then just like that, the moment was gone. He gave her a curt nod, his expression unreadable once again. “I’ll call you later.” He dropped her hand and strode down the steps without looking back.

Twenty

THE NEXT MORNING, Jordan spent her first hour at the store doing inventory and placing orders with her distributors for the following month’s wine supply. She was leaving for Napa Valley on Friday, a trip she’d planned months ago. While she generally tried to make it out to wine country three or four times a year for business, she was particularly excited about this trip—she had an appointment to visit a new winery whose debut cabernet she was considering for the store’s wine club.

Plus, she needed the weekend away, from Chicago, FBI undercover assignments, and everything else. A few days alone would do her some good, get her back to thinking clearly again. Maybe get her to stop wondering whether Nick had wanted to kiss her last night.

Somehow, she’d blurred the line in her head between what was real and fake in their situation. But a real date would’ve kissed her last night, not given her a token “I’ll call you later” before hightailing it off her front porch. Yet here she was, still thinking about him.

Jordan did a mental headshake, forcing herself to focus on work. Wanting to make up for the extra shifts she had to burden her staff with during the time she’d be in Napa, she had scheduled herself to both open and close the store that day. Luckily, Andrea was feeling better and was set to come in at one o’clock, which meant that Jordan wouldn’t have to work the evening shift alone again.

After placing orders, she posted on the store’s Facebook page about the special they were running through the weekend: buy three reds, get the fourth half off. Then she turned to her favorite project—paying bills. She cringed at the gas bill and cursed the ridiculous cost of keeping a large store warm in the winter. Apparently, the folks at Peoples Gas thought she had a half-billion dollars at her disposal.

A little heiress humor.

Shortly before noon, the chime on the door rang as the first customer of the day walked in. Jordan looked up from the bar and smiled at the woman, an attractive brunette wearing a North Face coat and yoga pants that showed off her fit, curvy physique.

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.