If I follow my rules, this is definitely strike three. Then again, he didn’t exactly sound obsessed, and the classic variety gave him a couple of bonus points, at least. So maybe, like, half a strike.

After a moment’s hesitation, I slid inside. The steering wheel was skinny, the windows were the roll-down kind, and there were gages on the middle console, along with a silver-knobbed shifter.

Jake got inside, filling the car with the scent of his familiar musky cologne. “I was thinking we might drive a bit. There’s a place in Boulder that’s—”

“I’d rather not go to Boulder,” I blurted out, a bad sense of déjà vu hitting me.

“In case you have to bail early? Like with that counselor guy?”

“Exactly,” I said, working at sounding casual about it. “Who knows when you’re going to say something that sends me running?”

“Okay. I know a place that’s closer to home.”

I was overreacting, but I couldn’t help it. Because of Allen, even the mention of Boulder for dinner struck a raw nerve. Especially combined with the fast car thing. I realized that I hadn’t seen Jake’s place yet and started to panic.

What’s he hiding?

I reached for my seat belt. My stomach was churning, so I took a deep breath to try to calm down and think about things rationally. Jake and I lived in the same building; he’d introduced me to his friend Tina; he kept insisting I go to Blue. Oh, and Virginia Hammond wanted to set us up. All things that suggested he wasn’t married.

Okay, minor freak-out over.

The engine roared to life, then quieted down to a purr. “Did you get a chance to listen to more of your book?” Jake asked, maneuvering out of the parking garage. “It seemed to have you on edge earlier.”

“Even if I was listening to music, I still would’ve jumped when you snuck up on me. Whenever I get on the treadmill, I check out of the real world.” I glanced at him. “But the book was definitely a nail-biter. The end was so intense I couldn’t put it down—or whatever you say when you don’t actually have the book in your hands.”

“So you like to read? Or listen, anyway?”

“I’ve found it helps me stay on the treadmill longer. But I always like to have a paperback on hand, too. I need to swing by the bookstore for another one, actually.”

“We can stop there after we eat, then.” Jake reached over and took my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. There was something about the smallest gestures with him that made me feel like a teenager again. I told myself to just enjoy it.

Still, at the back of my mind, I heard that nagging voice saying, Good things never last.

…

“I told you the food was amazing,” Jake said. “The good thing about knowing one of the best chefs in town is you know all the great places to eat.”

I took a sip of my water. “How’d you get into the restaurant business anyway?”

“Long story.”

I stabbed a tortellini with my fork. “And you’re thinking of bolting soon? I haven’t even told you about my creepy porcelain doll collection yet.”

He shot me a quick smile. “I thought you wanted to keep things light? Talk only about superficial things.” He raised his eyebrows. “Weren’t those the terms?”

“Yes, but your refusal to tell the story makes me think it’s a good one, and now I’m really interested.”

“Well, it was between being a professional clown or starting a restaurant.” Jake sighed, a tragic look on his face. “Unfortunately, I flunked out of clown school, and my parents disowned me. They kicked me out of the tiny car holding twelve other clowns and sent me on my way.”

I shook my head, fighting a smile. “I can’t believe you flunked out, when you’re obviously so good at it.”

Jake grinned. “I am a natural.”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of telling me the real story, you clown-school dropout.”

Jake pushed his plate aside and propped his forearms on the table. “My dad built the Knight Marketing & Advertising Group in New York from the ground up. He was big on learning how to work, so he told me I’d have to qualify to get a job in his company. I went to NYU and got my degree in Marketing, with a minor in Economics. As soon as I graduated, I started working for my dad, made some good money sitting behind a desk all day, and hated every minute of it.

“One day I ran into Brent—he and I had roomed together in New York while he was going to culinary school. He was back in town for a week visiting family. Anyway, we got to talking, and he told me that he’d moved to Denver and was trying to open his own restaurant. When I asked how it was going, he said he was having a hard time getting a place, but he wasn’t going to give up.”

The waitress came by with a pitcher of water, refilled our drinks, and asked if we needed anything else.

“Where was I?” Jake asked when she walked away.

I placed my napkin over my plate. “Brent was trying to open a place here.”

“As he talked, my mind automatically started thinking about the business side of things. I made a few suggestions and told him what I could to help him out. Then he made a joke about how we could open the place together. The joke was on him, because I flew to Denver to check it out, and the rest is history.”

“Was your dad upset about you leaving the family business?”

“I think he was a little disappointed, but he’s always encouraged my sister and me to do something we love. She still works for my dad, because she has a passion for it.”

“I like that story,” I said. “Not as scandalous as I thought it’d be, but nice.”

Jake leveled his eyes on me—they were even bluer tonight, since he was wearing a navy button-down. “What about you? Why’d you choose interior design?”

“I love throwing things together and transforming a place. I know it’s not saving lives, but I have fun doing it, and I’m good at it.”

Jake ran his finger along the rim of his glass. “I think it’s important to enjoy what you’re doing. Sure, there will be crazy, crappy days where work sucks, but there’s got to be some good ones, too.”

“Exactly,” I said. Lately, I’d been enjoying being at the office less and less, but I still loved what I did. “And who couldn’t use a nice sanctuary to go home to at the end of the night? That’s where I come in.”

“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed with my place. It’s really boring and bare.”

I leaned in. “Who said anything about going to your place?”

“Well, that’s where dessert’s going to be.” A devilish grin spread across his face. “And trust me, you want dessert.”

…

Jake paused near the erotica shelves of the bookstore. “Isn’t this your favorite section?”

Heat spread through my cheeks. “I was trying to avoid you and just happened to hide there. I didn’t realize where I was until I looked at the book in my hands.” I glanced up at him. “And in case you didn’t notice, I’m into bondage, so I could tie you up and no one would ever find you. Don’t mess with me.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” He put his arm around me, hooking his hand on my hip. “Where to, then?”

“Mystery.”

We walked toward the back of the store. I browsed the titles, waiting for something to catch my interest.

Jake picked up one and studied the back. “What are you looking for?”

I slid out a book, then pushed it back in. “Something intense. The scarier the better.”

Jake ran his knuckle down my arm, my blood rushing to every place his skin had touched mine. “How scared do you have to be to call me up and tell me to come over?”

“And admit I need anyone but me, myself, and I?” I joked, shaking my head. “Never going to happen.”

He gave me a quick peck on the lips. “I’m going to go browse the history section.”

“How boring does your book have to be before you call me up and tell me to come over?”

“Not very. I don’t mind admitting I need someone else.” Jake tugged me closer and pressed his lips to mine again, lingering for long enough to make me lightheaded, then walked away.

Grinning like an idiot, I turned my attention back to the shelf. After a few minutes, I selected a Lehane novel and headed to the front to purchase it.

“Darby?”

I turned toward the voice. My heart dropped when I saw Allen. Of all the bookstores in all the world, he had to come walking into mine. He leaned in like he was going to hug me, and I stepped back.

Allen dropped his hands, hurt etched across his face. The lines in his forehead were more pronounced than they used to be, but he still looked handsome. For a no-good, cheating liar. “After all these years, you’re still mad?”

“Am I still mad?” Heat wound through my veins and my breaths came quicker and quicker. “You made me the other woman without my knowing it. So yeah, I’m still mad.”

“Alicia and I ended up getting divorced about a year after we had our daughter. We just couldn’t work it out.”

“Even if I could believe anything you’re saying, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care about you and your wife or ex-wife, or whatever your situation is.”

“Look, I’m trying to apologize here. I didn’t mean to involve you in my messy marriage. I really did care about you, and I’m sorry that you got hurt.” Allen took a step toward me. “I just wish that things had gone—”

“Don’t even start with your wishes,” I said, throwing up a hand. “You don’t get any more wishes.”

An arm wrapped around my waist. “Is everything okay here?” Jake asked.

“I’m ready to go.” Being here suddenly felt suffocating. I set my novel down on a random display and charged out of the store, into the cool night air.

A moment later, Jake stepped next to me. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing.”

He grabbed my hand. “For nothing, you sure seem upset.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I pulled on his hand and headed toward his car.

Seeing Allen had put a damper on the whole night. I’d managed to avoid him for eight years. Why did he have to pop up on the one night I was starting to rethink my stance on relationships? If I would’ve just let Jake take me to Boulder for dinner, I wouldn’t have run into Allen.

The irony wasn’t lost on me.

Jake drove the couple blocks to our building, the ride passing in silence. When we got into the elevator, I was half expecting him to push my floor and drop me off. Instead, he chose the button for the twentieth floor. With no others lit, we buzzed up fast enough that my stomach lurched when we stopped.

Jake led me past several doors to the end of the hall. As we stepped inside, he flipped on the lights. He wasn’t kidding about his lack of decorating. A black couch sat in the middle of the living room, and a giant flat-screen TV—on a tiny side table—was opposite it. Typical guy. Huge TV and nothing else.

The far wall had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.

“It’s kind of plain right now,” Jake said.

“Lack of decorating is better than bad decorating, in my opinion.”

He walked into the kitchen and took a couple bowls out of his cupboard. “I did a little homework, and according to the people I talked to, when you order dessert, you go for chocolate.” He grabbed a pan off the top of his oven. “So I made brownies.”

“You made them?”

“I’m a pretty good cook, actually. When you have a chef roommate, you pick up a few things.” Jake grabbed a carton of ice cream from the freezer and took some chocolate syrup out of the fridge.

I leaned against the cool granite countertop of his island, which was about twice the size of mine. “And what else did everyone at Blue say?”

“That you come in a lot—or used to before you met me, apparently. You have client meetings there, you’re always friendly, a good tipper, and that you would never go out with me. They said you’d stopped dating since your last boyfriend…” Jake stopped, looking like he wanted to take back the last sentence. He scooted one of the bowls toward me and handed me the syrup.

The staff at Blue could’ve only been talking about one guy. “That’s the problem with sticking to one place. People start to know too much about you.”

“Everyone likes you. They actually told me they’d be mad if you stopped coming in because of me—or Mindy did, anyway. She’s the only one bold enough to tell me something like that.”

We covered our ice cream in syrup, then headed over to the couch to eat dessert.

What a night. I run into Allen, plus get a reminder of what happened the last time I let myself fall.