people get close to you,” he whispered. “Do
you?”
She turned, sudden anger brightening her eyes like bits of
glass on a dark street.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Jude expected her to pull away at that point, but instead
her free hand dropped to his knee, sliding up his thigh to his lap. Behind the
screen of the tablecloth, her fingers moved higher. He made a choking noise as
she reached his lap. Jude reached down, catching hold of her fingers.
“We should get going,” he gasped.
“Not enjoying this enough?” Indigo drawled.
She wriggled from his grasp, a single finger sliding along
the inner seam of his trousers, and Jude bit his tongue to keep from moaning.
He caught hold of her wrist again, fingers tightening.
“I’m liking it just fine,” he ground out, “but I’d rather
have some privacy, if that’s okay with you.”
Indigo laughed loudly, tipping her head back and swirling
her hair around her shoulders.
“Suit yourself,” she said with a coy smile, pulling her hand
away and picking up her clutch. She lifted the pashmina from where she’d folded
it over the chair, looping it around her shoulders. Jude waited for a few
seconds, breathing slowly to calm down, before standing to join her. He tucked
two hundred dollar bills into the folder with the receipt, leaving it on the
table.
Crossing the room, Indigo fell back into the role of the
distractingly beautiful woman again. She moved her body with a rolling grace
that spoke of shadowed bedrooms and expensive lingerie, things that others
dreamed of but she knew. Eyes lifted as they passed, and Jude felt his chest
swell in satisfaction. He stepped closer, resting his hand on her lower back.
He liked being seen with her. And he knew tonight wasn’t over.
They’d almost made it to the door when Jude’s phone rang. He
pulled it from his pocket, face falling.
Unknown name, unknown number.
This was the call Marq had told him to wait for.
“Indigo, just a sec’,” Jude said, stopping just inside in
the quiet entrance. “I’ve got to take this call.”
She peeked down at the phone just as it buzzed again.
“Want me to wait?”
“Just grab a cab, if you don’t mind,” Jude said. “I’ll be
out in a minute to join you.”
: : :
: : : : : : :
Indigo was humming as she strode to the edge of the
sidewalk, her eyes on the steady stream of traffic. The air was cold, the first
hint of snow coming down in individual flakes that melted into damp spots on
the sidewalk, marring the windshield of parked cars with dots. Shivering,
Indigo turned one direction, searching the street for cabs. She turned back the
other way, and her breath caught in her throat.
There was a man in a trench coat and suit walking toward
her, a burgundy scarf around his neck. His face rippled in shock as he saw her.
“Indigo?”
She took a shaking breath, waiting as Callum Woodrow strode forward.
He had a briefcase in one hand, keys in the other. He was smiling, brown eyes
twinkling, but his hair surprised her. Sometime in the last months he’d cut it
short. The shape of it made him seem younger than he’d been last year. As if
time had run backward instead of forward since they’d parted.
He paused a few feet away, grinning.
“God, it is you, Indigo,” he breathed. “I wasn’t
sure. It’s got to be, what? Five months? Six?”
“Yeah,” she replied, forcing a smile. “Something like that.”
It was seven, but she didn’t say. She was intent on keeping
the façade of control tightly in place. She was playing two roles now: the
pretty club girl and the pulled-together ex. If Jude walked out, she
didn’t know how she was going to keep herself going. She already had too many
balls in the air.
“It’s great to see you again,” Cal said warmly. His eyes
moved down her body and back up to her face.
“Yeah, you too.”
“You look great,” he added. “Looks like life’s treating you
well.”
“Life’s alright,” she said, then forced herself to
you?”
She turned, sudden anger brightening her eyes like bits of
glass on a dark street.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Jude expected her to pull away at that point, but instead
her free hand dropped to his knee, sliding up his thigh to his lap. Behind the
screen of the tablecloth, her fingers moved higher. He made a choking noise as
she reached his lap. Jude reached down, catching hold of her fingers.
“We should get going,” he gasped.
“Not enjoying this enough?” Indigo drawled.
She wriggled from his grasp, a single finger sliding along
the inner seam of his trousers, and Jude bit his tongue to keep from moaning.
He caught hold of her wrist again, fingers tightening.
“I’m liking it just fine,” he ground out, “but I’d rather
have some privacy, if that’s okay with you.”
Indigo laughed loudly, tipping her head back and swirling
her hair around her shoulders.
“Suit yourself,” she said with a coy smile, pulling her hand
away and picking up her clutch. She lifted the pashmina from where she’d folded
it over the chair, looping it around her shoulders. Jude waited for a few
seconds, breathing slowly to calm down, before standing to join her. He tucked
two hundred dollar bills into the folder with the receipt, leaving it on the
table.
Crossing the room, Indigo fell back into the role of the
distractingly beautiful woman again. She moved her body with a rolling grace
that spoke of shadowed bedrooms and expensive lingerie, things that others
dreamed of but she knew. Eyes lifted as they passed, and Jude felt his chest
swell in satisfaction. He stepped closer, resting his hand on her lower back.
He liked being seen with her. And he knew tonight wasn’t over.
They’d almost made it to the door when Jude’s phone rang. He
pulled it from his pocket, face falling.
Unknown name, unknown number.
This was the call Marq had told him to wait for.
“Indigo, just a sec’,” Jude said, stopping just inside in
the quiet entrance. “I’ve got to take this call.”
She peeked down at the phone just as it buzzed again.
“Want me to wait?”
“Just grab a cab, if you don’t mind,” Jude said. “I’ll be
out in a minute to join you.”
: : :
: : : : : : :
Indigo was humming as she strode to the edge of the
sidewalk, her eyes on the steady stream of traffic. The air was cold, the first
hint of snow coming down in individual flakes that melted into damp spots on
the sidewalk, marring the windshield of parked cars with dots. Shivering,
Indigo turned one direction, searching the street for cabs. She turned back the
other way, and her breath caught in her throat.
There was a man in a trench coat and suit walking toward
her, a burgundy scarf around his neck. His face rippled in shock as he saw her.
“Indigo?”
She took a shaking breath, waiting as Callum Woodrow strode forward.
He had a briefcase in one hand, keys in the other. He was smiling, brown eyes
twinkling, but his hair surprised her. Sometime in the last months he’d cut it
short. The shape of it made him seem younger than he’d been last year. As if
time had run backward instead of forward since they’d parted.
He paused a few feet away, grinning.
“God, it is you, Indigo,” he breathed. “I wasn’t
sure. It’s got to be, what? Five months? Six?”
“Yeah,” she replied, forcing a smile. “Something like that.”
It was seven, but she didn’t say. She was intent on keeping
the façade of control tightly in place. She was playing two roles now: the
pretty club girl and the pulled-together ex. If Jude walked out, she
didn’t know how she was going to keep herself going. She already had too many
balls in the air.
“It’s great to see you again,” Cal said warmly. His eyes
moved down her body and back up to her face.
“Yeah, you too.”
“You look great,” he added. “Looks like life’s treating you
well.”
“Life’s alright,” she said, then forced herself to
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