Chapter 3 #2
She laughed again, tossing her hair behind her ears, only there wasn’t as much as before, which meant it flicked back quicker than expected, straight into her eye. “Ow.”
Jordan snickered. Huh. It looked like she was completely mistaken in thinking he’d ever thought about her in any way other than a brother. Apparently the stress of quitting had made her think all kinds of crazy things!
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thanks so much for bringing me here. You’re the best.”
“I know.”
His characteristic comment drew another chuckle as her eyes were drawn to a party entering the room below.
But unlike her and Jordan, these people clearly had reservations, escorted as they were to the special golden table.
She peered at them, seated a level down.
One of the men glanced up, his dark hair looking like he’d been styled by David Beckham’s hair guru, and met her gaze.
A ripple of awareness creased her chest, and she knew an inkling to pull back, to hide, but resisted. She had just as much right to be here as he did. He stared at her, and she raised her brows. He smirked, elbowed the man next to him, who swivelled to look up. And that did draw her back.
“What is it?” Jordan asked.
“Nothing.” Or maybe something. But it felt disloyal to mention a handsome man to Jordan when she was here tonight with him.
Some might think Jordan handsome, but he’d never been her ideal of the epitome of attractiveness.
And while that might make her sound shallow, she had to be honest. And that man below had certainly been enough to tempt her to want to know more.
Jordan peered over the balcony then shrugged as a waiter placed a plate of arancini on their table, pointing to the entrée. “Look what I got you.”
“See? The best.”
He smiled, and for a second she wondered if maybe all these years she’d been wrong.
Maybe it was the candlelight, but something flickered in his eyes.
Were her sisters right and Jordan Knight did hold something for her?
No. That was foolishness, and likely the result of a day of too many high emotions.
She popped in the arancini, nearly moaning at the deliciousness.
“You like?”
“I love it. I love all of it. This is the life that I was made for.”
He eyed her again, but she averted her gaze, looking out across the well-dressed crowd.
That group of lithe ladies looked like ballerinas.
Were they the ones performing the new Swan Lake production?
That group of men and diamond-wearing women looked like they were used to this kind of lifestyle.
Oh, how she wanted to be someone like that too.
Her sisters would claim it was very antifeminist of her, but yes, she’d like to have someone shower her with compliments and jewellery and treat her like a queen.
And for all his good qualities, Jordan wouldn’t do that.
He was her best friend. He’d never shower her with compliments but insisted on speaking the truth.
He could never be boyfriend material, let alone her Mr. Right.
And she should know. Because as of today, she was flying solo as the chief executive officer of one of the world’s best dating app services.
Which meant Dean Donwell was correct. EJ was now a professional matchmaker, earning her living from her app.
Which meant she should know a thing or two about love.
And there was no way on God’s green earth that Jordan Knight would ever be someone she’d think about like that.
Unlike that man in the restaurant.
Jordan had known EJ all his days, but she’d never seemed so high on life before.
He smiled, glad to have finally helped her accomplish one—wait, now it was two—of her dreams. One: finally trusting herself enough to ditch her job and launch into the career she’d been made for.
And two: finally bringing her here to eat at the Opera House, even if it wasn’t in the super-fancy restaurant part.
At least she’d gotten a taste of the high life she obviously craved.
Movement caught his eye, and a dude who was far too good-looking for his own good—and looked like he knew it—strolled to the bar. The dude glanced across in their direction, and Jordan realised EJ was watching him.
He nudged her. “Do you know him?”
“No.”
Jordan’s gaze narrowed as the guy nodded. Who was he nodding at? He glanced back at EJ, who seemed a little flustered, cheeks flushed, fiddling with her empty glass. “Are you sure you don’t know him? He looked like he was nodding to you.”
She shook her head. “I’ve never seen him before tonight.”
Hmm. That implied she’d at least noticed him earlier; otherwise, she’d simply say she’d never seen him before. Seriously? Disgruntlement rose. EJ was here with him and checking out another guy? This mightn’t be a date, but still, this was so not how he’d imagined the night going.
She blinked and angled her body so she couldn’t see the bar and its patrons.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
” That strange look from before disappeared as her attention returned fully to him, easing his tight heartstrings.
“So, tell me what you’re going to do now.
You finally got your wish and made me quit. ”
“Hey, that wasn’t my wish. Not for me, anyway. I just knew that as long as you were tied up with Donwell things, you’d never have the time or headspace to do what is your first love.”
“Dream Match.” She sighed. “I still can’t believe it’s actually happening.”
“I still can’t believe that we’ve reached this point without much of an office or massive team.”
“Right? It feels insane.” She pushed the plate holding the last arancini ball at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to work for me?”
“Work for you or with you?”
She winced. “That sounds bad, as I know you’ve been just as important in making this dream come true.”
“It was always your concept. I just helped with some tech things.”
“That’s the understatement of the century.”
“That’s an exaggeration for the ages.”
She laughed, and he joined her, as heads swivelled their way. But he didn’t care that they were drawing attention. The ease flowing between them pricked hope that now that the pressures of juggling two jobs was gone, she would finally see him as someone more than her friend and codesigner.
A waiter approached with a glass of champagne. “For you, madam.”
Huh?
EJ lifted the glass and smiled at Jordan. “Thank you. I didn’t think you’d do something like this.”
That was because he hadn’t. Had the staff somehow heard about her cause for celebration? “Um …”
She sipped, proclaiming it “Delicious.”
The waiter cleared his throat. “It’s Dom Perignon. From the gentleman over there at the bar.”
“What?”
“Oh!” As the waiter departed discreetly, EJ placed the glass down with a thud, so some of the expensive golden liquid splashed on the table. “Who?”
“Yeah, who?” Jordan craned his neck to see.
What kind of man cut in on another man’s territory?
Couldn’t he see that EJ was here with him?
He finally zeroed in on the man at the bar from before.
The way-too-handsome one. The one who was watching them now.
Watching EJ anyway, as apparently Jordan was invisible.
He shifted to rise, but EJ placed a hand on his knee.
Jordan glanced at her. She was pink cheeked, her gaze trained on the dodgy dude who didn’t seem to know about dating etiquette. Even though this wasn’t officially a date, that dude wasn’t to know that. “Are you sure you don’t know him? He seems to know you.”
“I’ve never met him before.”
“Yeah? Well, he seems pretty shady to me. Seriously, what kind of guy moves in another guy’s territory like that?”
She snorted and finally glanced back at him. “I’m not your possession. I’m not territory to be conquered.”
He huffed. “I didn’t mean it like that. But it’s pretty rude to go sending champagne to a woman who is out with another man.”
“This isn’t a date, Jordan.”
“But he doesn’t know that.”
She rolled her eyes and peered back at where Romeo was leaning against the bar, his smirk saying he knew exactly what was going on. Like he enjoyed messing with people.
The Casanova wannabe nodded again, his smirk so irritating Jordan wanted to rush over there and smack it off his face.
And violence wasn’t him at all. EJ had always been the more passionate one.
Jordan had never even slipped on boxing gloves, but right now he wished he knew the difference between an uppercut and a cross-jab.
Maybe instead of running and biking, he should have practiced something more hardcore like boxing or jiu jitsu.
Jordan’s gaze ricocheted between them; then EJ shrugged and angled away, her cold shoulder making it plain she wasn’t interested in the sleazy dude. Good.
Settling back in his leather chair, Jordan snuck a peek back to see the guy still watching them.
Jordan exhaled. What was the dude’s problem?
He was sorely tempted to get up and go over there and give the man a piece of his mind, but he also got the sense that if he did that he’d spoil what was supposed to be a wonderful evening of celebration.
Lord, help me get my feelings under control. Feelings about the lothario, feelings about EJ. He drained his water glass in one gulp. Then noticed she was toying with her champagne. “You can’t drink that.”
“Why not?” She lifted the glass. “It’d be a waste to leave it. Especially when it’s Dom Perignon. And so delicious.”
“Because that guy is creepy. You don’t even know who he is. Who sends glasses of champagne to women they don’t know?”
“He can’t be too bad if he can afford to send expensive things.”
For a second, he felt himself rear back, like he was watching a show where the innocent maiden was seduced by the devil with his temptations. Then he blinked, and the vision dissipated.
“Why are you looking at me funny?”
Explaining what he’d just thought he’d seen didn’t seem like it would fly.
And he knew that she was always reluctant to do something she didn’t feel like was her own suggestion.
He had to be wise, be careful in what he said next.
“Look, I just feel like if you drink it, it’s telling the guy—who you don’t even know—that he’s allowed to have some part of you.
And you don’t know who he is. He could be part of the mob. ”
She scoffed. “We don’t have the mob here in Australia.”
“Don’t be so sure of that. It might not be what you see in movies, but crime gangs exist here too.”
Her eyes widened. “Come on, Jordan. That’s insane. You’re being so judgemental. He’s probably just a nice guy who thought he’d be kind and send something to a girl he might think was pretty.”
While EJ was definitely pretty, Jordan was so torn by internal warning flags he couldn’t feed her ego and agree aloud. “Guys try to own women, and I can’t believe you’re so naive as to fall for it.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she picked up the drink and swallowed. “Mmm. Delicious.”
“Wow. Okay. Real mature.”
“Right?” The tension in her face faded. “Look, I’m sorry if you’re bothered by someone else taking an interest in me, but we’re not on a date, and I am very capable of making my own decisions.”
“I know that.” But—
“It’s going to be okay, Jordan.” Her expression softened. “We’ll still be fine even if we don’t see each other every day.”
Wait, this was about her being safe from the walking red flags of this world who used women. It wasn’t about his own pathetic need for her. He didn’t have a pathetic need for her. He cared for her. A lot. That was all.
He glanced back at the bar and saw that the man had finally disappeared. Good. About time. He exhaled silently.
“So, are we okay now?” EJ asked.
He leaned forward. “Of course we are.”
It was more a faith statement than reality, because he still felt the churn of emotions inside, a churning that her earlier statement had provoked.
Because they wouldn’t see each other as regularly as before, and he didn’t have the right in any way to insist on her following his advice.
Which meant he’d have to pray and trust that God would protect her.