As expected, there was a slight pause. “Right, sure.”

Grace smiled. Was that just the tiniest bit of bruised ego she heard in his tone? “How about this Friday?” she asked. “There’s that great Italian place on Fifty-sixth.”

“Sure. Noon?”

“Let’s make it one. Maybe miss some of the lunch rush.”

“Perfect,” he said, good humor restored. “And I’ve been thinking about the focus of this issue’s article. If the last one was about first impressions, how about if this date focuses on reading physical attraction cues? Figuring out what makes the other person tick, sexually speaking?”

“Sexually speaking, I think that sounds like a perfect plan.”

“You sure? Because last time, it seemed like you got sort of caught up in—”

Her smile slipped. “I’m sure.”

And she meant it.

Because despite what Jake Malone thought, date number two wasn’t about his plan.

It was hers.

Chapter Eight

Text message from Grace Brighton to Jake Malone:

Just wanted to double-check we’re good for lunch today? Looking forward to seeing you. Especially after the dream I had last night. Let’s just say the contents belong in an entirely different sort of magazine ;)

* * *

“Emma, you good? Copy.”

“Copy?” came Emma’s voice, low and incredulous in her ear. “Seriously? We’re doing that?”

“Roger roger. Over. Over and out. Copy that. Copy the copy. Roger over the copy out.”

Grace’s footsteps faltered as she made her way back from the restroom to the table where she’d be waiting for Jake. “Riley? Is that you? How the heck did you get an earpiece? More importantly, why?”

“How are you asking me that? It was my brother who got you the earpieces in the first place.”

“Yeah, for me and Emma,” Grace said, giving a bright smile to the confused waiter, who clearly thought she was talking to herself. “You know, the only people actually in the restaurant.”

Silence.

Suspicion dawned. “Ri … Emma and I are the only ones in the restaurant, aren’t we?”

“Well …”

“Come on now, Grace,” said a new voice. “You didn’t really think we’d miss out on Operation That’s What She Said?”

Grace’s eyes fluttered closed. Julie was here too. “Oh no.”

“The gang’s all here!” Riley said, sounding quite pleased with herself.

A quick scan of the restaurant showed Julie and Riley sitting by the window. Riley was attacking the basket of bread, naturally.

Grace stifled a sigh. Additional distractions weren’t ideal, but as long as Emma stayed put at the table adjacent to Grace’s, they’d be fine. As she returned to her table, her eyes landed on the tiny clutch containing the tiny camera with an unobstructed view of Grace and Jake.

Everything was in place. Except the guy.

“He’s late,” Julie muttered. “If he stands her up, I swear to God …”

“Julie,” Grace said pleasantly, taking a sip of her water, “if you don’t shut up, I swear to God—”

“Incoming.”

This from Emma, whose expression never wavered from the bored businesswoman-out-for-a-solo-lunch expression she’d been wearing the entire time. Seriously, the woman could have a career in Hollywood and with the CIA.

“Grace.”

At the sound of the now familiar voice, she took one long last breath to steady herself. Show time.

“Jake.”

She let her voice go low and husky, looking up at him through her lashes.

A little flicker of surprise flashed over his face at her welcoming expression. Really, what had he been expecting? A high five? A kick in the balls?

She tilted her cheek up to him as he leaned down to kiss her, and she hoped the camera didn’t miss the way he lingered. She hoped it did miss her blush.

And therein lied the weakness in the plan. The camera was intended to capture Jake’s interest for the world to see. But it would also capture hers if she wasn’t careful.

All the more reason to keep her lady urges tamped down.

Think of Greg. Think of finding Maureen’s panties in your bed. Think of the way Jake manipulated you last time.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, his eyes searching hers.

“Oh, please,” she said, waving away his apology. “Busy day?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. In addition to my full-time role at Oxford, I sometimes freelance for one of the nonprofit newsletters discussing the city’s social issues—homelessness, crime, suicide. Today’s research was … brutal.”

He looked a little surprised at his own admission, just as Grace was surprised by her impulse to ask him for more information. To ask if he wanted to talk about it.

That wasn’t part of the plan.

“So. What are your thoughts on day drinking?” she asked.

Disappointment flashed across his face at her easy dismissal of his freelance work. It had obviously been important to him, and she’d blown it off like he’d mentioned the weather. Grace ignored the stab of remorse that he probably wouldn’t be spilling his guts to her anytime soon.

“I could do a little European-style wine with lunch,” he said finally.

The statement was completely innocuous, but the expression on his face made it clear that wine could be substituted with something else. Something far more decadent.

Yup, the text message had done its job, all right. Jake Malone had sexy times on the brain.

She demurely glanced down at the wine list, knowing that the camera would capture the blatant invitation on his face, even as it missed the butterflies in her stomach.

Keep it up, Malone.

The server came over to ramble about the wine list, and Grace settled on overpriced Montepulciano. Camille would likely fuss, but Grace was pretty sure Camille would let her order the entire menu if it meant victory in this stupid little Stiletto-versus-Oxford game.

Which Grace was well on the way to achieving.

“So, I have to say, I’m a little surprised you’re so okay with everything,” Jake said, after they’d gone through the whole stiff swirl-and-sip routine with the wine. “After the way I portrayed you in the article …”

“Oh, you mean as a needy, heartbroken train wreck?”

He grinned. “More or less.”

Grace gave a little shrug, noting the way his eyes found her breasts. The girls were more covered up this time, but the sleeveless top was stretched just a tiny bit too tight across the chest. Not enough to be considered an open invitation, but definitely enough to call his attention to all the right places.

She took a tiny sip of wine. “Well, as you read in my article, it was more than a little embarrassing to learn that our last meeting was nothing but a sham. But that was last month, so …”

“Grace—”

He reached a hand across the table, but she jerked hers back before he could make contact. At her rejection, he rapped the table lightly with his knuckles in frustration before leaning back.

“It wasn’t like that,” he said quietly.

She pursed her lips and pretended to be attempting to recall his article. As though it weren’t totally ingrained in her mind already. “It wasn’t like that? Really? Because I seem to remember reading something along the lines of, ‘Grace Brighton may have been determined not to like me, but like most women, all it took was one impeccably timed compliment and she was eating out of my hand.’ ”

His eyes went regretful. “My phrasing was for the sake of the story. You know that.”

“So when you said that the date was better than most—that wasn’t just a line?”

Jake’s eyes flicked briefly to the basket full of warm bread. Guilty.

She’d known it was coming, but it stung all the same. Still, they had an audience. Not exactly the time to confess that his ploy had stung a lot more than her pride.

They were both saved by the waiter, and after ordering their lunch, Jake leaned forward slightly, his easy smile back in place.

“Can we talk about that text you sent?” he asked, voice huskier than it had been before.

Grace let her eyes fall demurely to the table. “The one where I mentioned that I had a dream about you?”

She heard the sound of Julie’s stunned laughter in her ear, followed by a horrified, “Oh, Grace.”

Grace didn’t feel any remorse about the suggestive text, though. She’d needed to bait the man. So yeah, she may have implied she’d had a sexy dream about him …

“I admit, you’ve got me curious about the details of this dream,” he said when she didn’t immediately elaborate.

She licked her lips as though nervous and embarrassed. “I’m sure it didn’t mean anything. I just got out of a relationship, so I’m a little … parched, you know?”

His eyes went hot then, his hand once more reaching for hers and doing that trademark little rub of the thumb over her wrist. Grace let him grasp her hand just long enough to make sure the camera would catch the blatant lust on his face. And the shy nervousness on hers.

Gotcha.

Then she pulled her hand away slowly.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”

She heard one of her friends give a disappointed sigh in her ear. Grace’s retreat to the restroom was the signal that the video recorded portion of this date was over. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Emma move her camera clutch to her lap before signaling for the check.

Riley and Julie weren’t so amenable. “Grace, you little tease. We want to hear the rest.”

“Now, girls, you know I never kiss and tell. All I wanted was one lusty look from this guy. And I got it.”

“Oh, you definitely got it,” Emma murmured.

Smiling in victory, Grace pulled out her earpiece and flicked the tiny switch to off. Okay, so the earpiece had been overkill. But it had been the easiest way for Emma to let her know if there were any unanticipated obstructions blocking the camera shot.

No remorse on that front either. Baiting him with sexy talk wasn’t exactly her classiest move, but she was pretty sure Jake Malone could withstand the itsy-bitsy blow to his ego.

Lord knew there’d be a dozen women willing to heal his wounded pride.

Which wasn’t her business, no matter how curious she was about the body under those perfectly tailored shirts.

Stalling for time, Grace paused at the vanity and needlessly touched up her makeup. She’d taken Riley’s advice and had been amping up the eye makeup a little bit from what she used to wear when she was with Greg, and she wasn’t quite used to it. Her hazel eyes had always seemed too wide to be interesting—they lacked Riley’s cat-eyed mysteriousness, or even Julie’s long-lashed flirtatiousness.

But she liked the way the extra smudge of dark eyeliner contrasted with the lightness of her green eyes and also made her chocolate-brown hair seem less blah.

A sex kitten she was not, but apparently she had enough going on to make Jake’s eyes go smoky.

And if the tug of satisfaction in her belly had nothing to do with the article and everything to do with him, well … it didn’t matter.

Grace 2.0 would have her head if she even thought about having sexy times with this guy. With any guy.

Even if she wasn’t on a six-month hiatus from men, Jake Malone wasn’t for her. When she was ready to date again, it would be with someone tame. Someone who wouldn’t have her continually checking the bed for panties not her own.

Emma was gone by the time Grace returned to the table, although a quick glance at the table by the window revealed that Julie and Riley were still there. Riley would never pass up the chance for food, even if the day’s entertainment was over.

Jake moved to pull out Grace’s chair for her.

“Nice moves,” she said, placing her napkin back in her lap. “Your army of sisters taught you well.”

“Nah, that was all my dad,” he said. “He was determined that all of his daughters be little ladies and his son be a gentleman.”

“It must have been hard on you to have to disappoint him.”

Jake let out a little surprised laugh. “You don’t think I’m a gentleman?”

Grace lifted an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“So all of those articles about you … the overlapping women, the married women, the scorned women …?”

He lifted his wine and studied her over the rim of glass. “Embellished.”

Grace was annoyed to realize that she wanted to believe him. Badly. But of course, he had every reason to lie. All men seemed to find reasons to lie.

“What about you?” he asked.

“What about me? You want to know if I sleep with married women too?”

“Did your parents raise you to be a little lady?”

She fluttered her eyelashes. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He didn’t flirt back. “It is. The excellent posture, the tailored clothes, the small-talk skills … you reek of class.”

“Good nose, Mr. Journalist. I grew up in Scarsdale.”

He whistled. “Whew, so your umbilical cord was basically made out of hundred-dollar bills?”

Grace laughed, not the least bit offended. Scarsdale, New York, was a notoriously wealthy town, and her family had fit right in.

“It was pretty much like you’re thinking. My dad’s family is old money, and my mom’s family is even older money. Athletic participation translated into tennis, golf, or horseback riding. And forget about that pesky process of deliberating on where to go to college. Cornell alumni dominated the family tree on both sides.”