without benefit of table linens. Greg had been really nice to charge to the forefront for her.
“Look, Jackie…it is Jackie, right?” He lifted one eyebrow in query.
“Jacquelyn Brady. Jackie for short.” She offered her hand again, clinging to normal rules of polite society for a change. She seemed to have broken too many rules in one evening to be anything less than well bred for the rest of the night. “Nice to meet you.”
“Greg De Costa.” He shook her hand and flashed her a wicked grin along with a mouth full of pearly whites. “Likewise.”
Was it her imagination, or did the name sound familiar? Jackie was bad with names, but she never forgot a face. And she was positive she’d never run into Greg before. She wrote off the twinge of recognition she’d felt upon hearing his last name.
“Now that we’ve covered the introductions, I really think I’d better go.” She had auditions in the morning. She had a song to write tonight.
Mostly, she needed to escape Greg De Costa and his way too seductive chest before she did something she regretted. Like inch down her tablecloth and plaster herself to him for a good-night kiss he wouldn’t soon forget.
Greg dug into his pants pocket and emerged with a cell phone as thin as a credit card. “Do me a favor and call Zing-O-Gram first to be sure Gregory doesn’t get the surprise of a lifetime at his birthday party.”
How could she refuse? Jackie hated to think somewhere a six-year-old boy was getting an eyeful ten years too early. Almost as bad was the thought that somewhere in Boston there was a six-year-old boy whose special surprise never arrived.
Jackie would stay with Greg just long enough to straighten out the mix-up before she went home. Then she’d put her tennis shoes in high gear so she could put some serious space between her and a slick charmer like Greg De Costa.
She needed to escape those dangerous abs.
And those sexy suspenders.
And the stupid voice in her head that kept suggesting the time had arrived to follow her old music teacher’s advice and unleash the power of her singing voice.
3
GREG WATCHED JACKIE conduct her half of the phone conversation, admiring the way she could cradle the receiver, gesture wildly to express herself and still hold the tablecloth in a death grip.
How could he not admire a woman who possessed the body of a goddess and the ability to multitask?
He had to admit, Jackie Brady was very appealing, even if she spoke “disaster” with the fluency of a second language.
But he was only going to try and convince her to let him drive her home.
And maybe angle for a good-night kiss.
He just wanted one taste of those cat-woman lips and then he’d be able to walk away. No doubt a woman like Jackie with her penchant for trouble could have a man chasing his own damn tail in no time.
No way was Greg getting sucked into that again. He had recently dated a co-worker who thought Greg could help her advance from weather girl to head meteorologist. She’d ended up broadcasting a hurricane update with a picture of Greg’s face glued in the eye of the storm and had nearly cost him his job. Then there was the lady lawyer. A safe enough choice right? She’d chased ambulances right along with Greg’s camera crews, only too happy to have an “in” on late-breaking news.
So, even though Jackie happened to have the most phenomenal breasts he’d ever seen, the most tantalizing voice he’d ever heard, he didn’t have any intentions of pursuing anything with her. He was swearing off women until he could get his professional life back in order. He could settle for a kiss though, couldn’t he?
The door to the stairwell opened behind them just as Jackie hung up the phone. His brother stepped halfway into the alley, propping the heavy exit door with one shoulder.
“The real stripper is here,” Mike announced, scarcely articulating the words around a pink rose clamped between his teeth. He shot a sheepish grin at Jackie. “No offense to you, of course, miss.”
Jackie smiled right back at him, sparking a pang in Greg he could only guess was jealousy.
“None taken.” She tweaked the stem of Mike’s flower. “I’m glad to see Rosie is back on track at the right assignment.”
“And how.” Mike clutched his heart as if he’d fallen in love all over again. “Rosie’s a beauty, Greg. You coming upstairs?”
“No thanks. I’m taking Jackie home.” Greg knew without a doubt any other woman would pale in comparison to Jackie, no matter how many more alphabets Rosie boasted for a cup size.
Mike offered up a drunken salute while Jackie made a strangled sound and started backing away.
Greg had to jog to catch her. “Wait up, Jackie—”
She turned on him in a flurry of red hair and white linen. “Why? So you can take me home?” Her green eyes sparkled fire like some sort of 3D-animated video game warrior woman. “Don’t men even ask permission first? Or I suppose you just assume that because I flashed you a bit more than I’d intended that I must want company for the night.”
“Hey wait a minute—”
“No, you wait a minute.” She pointed at him with one unadorned finger, one unpainted fingernail. “I am definitely not interested, so you can take your suspenders and your muscles and all the charming chat and you can find someone else to bring home with you tonight.”
Greg had to remind himself he was not a fan of histrionics or furious females. For a moment, he regretted the fact because Jackie Brady definitely had a knack for the dramatic.
Although her diatribe probably fell somewhat short of her desired impact given that she was still wearing the kitty whiskers. The fuzzy ears. The pink nose painted over her own.
When she stomped off in her tennis shoes, however, Greg pulled himself together and chased after her.
Careful to keep his distance, he ran alongside her, layering on the “charming chat.” He’d never had any woman refer to his blunt manner of speaking as anything remotely close to charming.
“Jackie.” He waited until she shot him an evil glare. Was he so totally sick that the green daggers she shot his way turned him on? “I won’t apologize for being interested, because I am.”
She harrumphed and tugged her tail closer, checking the street for a cab that probably wouldn’t appear at this hour.
“But I only meant to say I wanted to escort you to your home, to make sure you got there okay.” He watched her as she thought over his words. He could practically see her recount their conversation mentally, her eyes darting across the landscape, unseeing, as she reviewed the exchange in her mind.
She slowed to a stop. “You meant you wanted to take me home…to my home?”
He halted in front of her, still careful not to crowd her. “Yes.”
“So
