seemed to consider that for a moment, then on a gentle exhalation of breath, she nodded.
Opening the door, he let her pass before pulling it closed behind them. As a safety precaution, he kept his office locked whenever he was away. He trusted his staff, but there was a lot of sensitive material inside, and it was better to be safe than sorry.
“Hey, Paula,” he addressed his personal secretary as they passed her desk. “Cover for me for a few hours, would you, please? I’m going to see Ms. Zaccaro home.”
If Paula found that at all odd, she didn’t show it. Her expression remained friendly but neutral as she gave a sharp nod. “Yes, sir.”
With a hand resting lightly at the small of her back, Reid led Juliet down the hall to the elevator. Neither of them spoke a word as the car carried them silently down to the ground level.
“Did you bring a car?” he asked as they crossed the lobby, their footsteps—especially the click-click-click of her sharp heels—echoed in the cathedral-like space.
She shook her head briskly. “Cab.”
Applying gentle pressure to her spine, he steered her slightly to the left, toward the entrance to the underground garage. “We’ll take mine.”
Then he looked at his watch and realized it was nearly lunchtime. Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone while he was out...and finagle a bit more time with Juliet while he was at it.
“How would you feel about grabbing a bite to eat?” he asked as they reached a sleek, onyx-black Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren. He opened the passenger’s-side door for her and added, “My treat.”
* * *
Juliet couldn’t remember the last time she’d had Chinese carryout. There had been a time when she and her sisters had ordered in more often than anything else. Back when they’d been thick as thieves, working 24/7 to get Zaccaro Fashions off the ground. And that was after Lily had already done more than her fair share of the legwork on her own.
Once the three of them had come together, though—Lily doing the clothing line, Zoe shoes and Juliet handbags—they’d been like a bunch of sorority girls. Staying up late, walking around in pajamas all day and eating little better than rats in a restaurant Dumpster.
It was the most fun she’d ever had.
Zaccaro Fashions was much more successful now. Still not world renowned or a household name, but they were getting there. More business meant more responsibility, though, and less time for the three sisters to spend being the Three Musketeers. Or the Three Stoogettes, as they’d often joked.
Now they all tended to drift along on their own, working privately until one of their design meetings, when they compared notes and concocted future plans. Not to mention the personal lives that seemed to separate them rather than bringing them closer.
Lily had Nigel, and split her time between New York and Los Angeles, where the American branch of his family’s company was located. She was even planning a trip to England to meet Nigel’s parents.
Juliet had been planning her own wedding for what seemed like forever. So long, in fact, that she now understood why so many couples chose to elope. With trips back and forth to Connecticut, her mother’s and soon-to-be mother-in-law’s constant input and the constant feeling that she needed to have her nose buried in copies of Modern Bride magazine, she was surprised her sisters hadn’t disowned her already.
And Zoe was off just...being Zoe. She loved working for Zaccaro Fashions. Came up with some of the sexiest shoe designs anyone had ever seen. They weren’t always practical, but they sold well to people who weren’t always practical, either. But she spent just as much time out on the town, hitting clubs, maintaining her reputation as the wild child that she’d become.
So now, even though the Zaccaro sisters still technically shared the loft and the attached studio space, the takeout menus that had once gotten so much use were now tucked away in a drawer in the kitchen, all but forgotten.
Yet when Reid had invited her to lunch, offering her the choice of whatever restaurant she liked between his office and the loft, she’d found herself craving Chinese instead and suggesting they pick up something to take back to the loft with them before she even realized what she was saying.
He’d looked as startled as she felt, but then shrugged and asked if she knew a good place along the way. She’d been relieved at his easy acquiescence, and more so when he’d told her to stay in the car while he ran inside to get their order.
She knew darn well he’d double-parked as an excuse to ask her to stay with the car, since there was a legitimate space only a few vehicles ahead of them. But she was in no shape to get out and deal with the world. Her makeup was smeared from her earlier crying jag, she was sure, and frankly she felt as though she might burst into tears again at any second.
She was mortified that she’d broken down in front of Reid. Broken down only in front of Reid, when she hadn’t even confided in her sisters about Paul’s recent erratic behavior.
It had been an emotional roller coaster of a day. And not the fun kind—the kind that was rusted and rickety and threatened to fly off the rails.
But she’d felt oddly safe with him. Maybe because he was a professional who’d likely heard a million stories just like hers—and worse, she was sure—over the years. Or maybe because he’d taken on Lily’s case, and then hers, and had proved to be extremely honest and reliable. He might not think so, given the strange set of circumstances surrounding his association with the Zaccaro sisters, but she certainly did. Probably because she could tell how much it had chafed that he’d been forced to juggle both of them as clients, as well as the details of their respective cases.
Or maybe because there had been something about Reid McCormack from the very beginning that told her she could trust him. There was a core of integrity to him that even a blind person could see. He wore it like a suit of armor, surrounding him every minute, everywhere he went.
On the other hand, Paul’s integrity was growing more questionable by the minute.
Having time to herself while Reid was inside the Chinese restaurant waiting for their food to be prepared gave her the chance to compose herself. She was no longer crying, but she noticed that her chest was still tight with apprehension, and it took a few deep, even breaths for her to truly relax.
Then there was the matter of repairing her makeup so it didn’t look like she’d just come in from a rainstorm on a perfectly sunny day. Pulling down the visor and using the mirror on the back, she was relieved to see that while things were a little mussed up, they hadn’t gone into Baby Jane territory.
Her mascara and eyeliner had smeared a bit, probably made worse when she’d dabbed her eyes with a tissue and the backs of her fingers. And the light dusting of powder and blush on her cheeks needed to be reapplied to look less blotchy and uneven.
She took care of all that, plus added a fresh layer of lipstick, and finally felt better by the time Reid stepped out of the restaurant carrying a large paper sack. He got in on the driver’s side, then dropped the bag on her lap, where it taunted her with a mix of savory, tantalizing aromas all the way home.
A few twinges of misgiving about inviting Reid in to share a meal gnawed at her during the quiet drive. Something like this, she supposed, could be construed as intimate or improper while
