Since Beth was right about the lipstick, Jordan took a few more minutes with her hair and makeup. When she emerged from her room, she found Jake alone, leaning against the wall, sporting a light gray suit with a dark blue open-collar shirt. She’d always liked the dark shirt contrasting with light suit look, and on him, it was especially gorgeous. “Hi,” she said, hoping her voice reflected a steadiness her legs didn’t feel. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Jake let out a soft whistle. “It was worth the wait. You’re stunning.” He held out his arm and Jordan linked hers through it. “I hope you don’t show me up too much.”
***
Since its grand opening two years before, Siempre had earned a reputation as the place to go in Grande Valley for anniversary dinners or falling in love. Since the date of her last drink was the only anniversary Jordan marked, and she never allowed herself to believe falling in love was an option for her, she’d all but dismissed the idea of ever dining there. Now she found herself being escorted to a private table while the host explained the Argentinean motifs that decorated the restaurants, including the painting of the Buenos Aires Obelisk that adorned the wall behind their table.
“It reminds me of the Washington monument,” Jordan observed as Jake pulled her chair out.
“I thought the same when I saw it this morning.”
Jordan looked at him with surprise. “You were here this morning?”
“Guilty.” A mischievous grin spread across his face. “How else would I know what table would be perfect?”
“You did good.” She cast her gaze to the dining room below and noticed they even had a view of the grilling area of the kitchen. Real good.
A uniformed waiter appeared and explained the open-flamed gaucho-style grilling to them before asking what they wanted to drink. “Sparkling water with a twist of lemon,” Jordan said, surprised not to hear an elaborate sell of the restaurant wine list.
“Same for me,” Jake said.
The waiter nodded. “Excellent. I’ll give you a few minutes to study the menu. Tonight’s special is the Loma al vino tinto, which is a seven-ounce tenderloin in a red wine sauce. I highly recommend it,” he added before leaving them alone.
“The best-laid plans,” Jake muttered, chuckling a little.
“What do you mean?”
“I specifically asked them not to launch into a whole spiel about the wine list,” he explained. “I never thought about the special.”
“You aren’t expected to think of everything.” Jordan smiled, touched he’d thought of this much.
“Still, it must be difficult…”
“It’s a drinking culture, for sure. Starting in college when it was cool to see how drunk we could get.” In treatment, she’d been forced to take a hard look at her life, recognizing the earliest roots of her problem. “Followed by law school, where I studied hard for six days a week, then got totally plastered on the seventh.” Jordan shook her head the memory. “Real healthy lifestyle, that,” she said dryly.
Jake leaned forward in his seat. “The Hollywood scene sure couldn’t have helped.”
“No.” It was what finally sent Jordan over the edge. She looked at Jake sitting across the table from her, a handsome man in his thirties, but her mind saw a fresh-faced, eager guy in his twenties sitting in her office, enthusiastic about his first major acting role. A few years later, that enthusiasm had waned, replaced with skepticism and accompanied by a bottle of vodka. Jordan realized how little she knew about the years after that, when her own problems consumed her life. “Forgive me for asking,” she said, trying to broach the subject delicately. “But did you ever have a problem? You know, with alcohol?”
Jake’s brow furrowed as he appeared to consider it. After a minute, he shook his head. “I’m guilty of overindulging sometimes. You know that,” he said. “The open bar at the Daytime Emmys after-party was a favorite hangout of mine.” His lips curled in a sheepish smile, as if he were somehow embarrassed about his youthful excesses, which only made him more attractive. “I’ve always been able to stop when I wanted to, though.”
It pleased Jordan to hear it. “Be glad. I’m glad for you. It’s a toxic town.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m glad you got out. You’re a very strong woman, Jordan.”
“I don’t always feel strong. Some days I just get by.” Jordan picked up the menu, opening it for the first time. “I don’t think I’ll be having the special.”
“I’m not suggesting you should,” Jake said, “but doesn’t the wine all cook out, anyway?”
It was a popular myth. Jordan shook her head. “Not completely. There’s some residual. Granted, probably not enough to make a difference, but I don’t like to flirt with danger.”
***
They butchered a few Spanish pronunciations, but managed to successfully order dinner. Jake learned that an empanada resembled a calzone and that the bife de chorizo mariposa was, indeed, a rib eye in the shape of a butterfly. The food was delicious and the company better.
“So you’ve filled in the blanks between the soaps and the movies,” Jordan said, after Jake gave her the behind-the-scenes scoop on the forgettable zombie movie. “I don’t know the beginning, though. How did a nice kid from Iowa end up in Hollywood?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I asked, didn’t I?” She smiled, her whole face lighting up, and he knew she was truly interested.
“Mark Twain.”
“Say what?”
Jake laughed at her response. “I shocked my family,” he said. “My dad had thirty years in at John Deere before he retired a few years ago. My brother got a job there right out of high school, too, and I was expected to do the same. Then the community theater happened the summer I was ten.” He reached for his water glass and took a drink. “I played Huck Finn, and that was all she wrote.”
“Huck Finn? Seriously?” She cocked her head to the side and scrunched up her face as if trying to picture it, and Jake wanted to kiss her right there at the table. “I bet you were adorable.”
“I guess I was pretty cute, yeah.” Jake shrugged. “Pretty lame story. I bet you’re sorry you asked.”
“No, I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner, but I wasn’t a very nice person then,” Jordan said. “It’s a shame I had to almost lose everything to start caring about people.”
Her perception was so different from the reality Jake remembered that he found himself at a loss how to respond. “For the record, I never saw you that way. I always thought you cared.” He reached across the table and put his hand on hers. “But I won’t deny that you’re even more incredible now.”
***
Jake’s palms were sweating when he pulled the car to a stop in Jordan’s driveway. If possible, he felt almost as nervous as he had when he drove Susie Walker home after the high school prom and didn’t know what to say or whether he should try to kiss her. Back then, the decision was made for him when the porch light turned on and Susie’s dad came out of the house, a stern expression on his face.
Now, at least, he wouldn’t face any disapproving father, but after mutually agreeing they wouldn’t rush the physical aspect of their relationship this time, Jake found himself less sure of the rules. There was one thing he was sure of, though. If Jordan invited him in, he’d accept.
She unfastened her seatbelt and leaned across the center console, her proximity causing his heart to beat faster.
“I had a really great time tonight.” She brushed her lips gently across his, and he took in her scent. “We should do it again sometime.”
Sometime soon, please. “I’d like that,” Jake said once he found his voice.
“Next time I’ll cook for you.”
“You cook?” He heard the surprise reflected in his voice and wanted to take it back, hoping he hadn’t offended her.
Instead, Jordan chuckled. “I occasionally prepare meals in my kitchen and so far haven’t started any fires.” She kissed him again. “I’ll call yo
u. Goodnight, Jake.”
***
Jordan closed the front door behind her and leaned back against it, slightly breathless and hoping for balance. It took every ounce of restraint she had not to invite him in.
Cujo looked up at her with a stern expression, as if she disapproved of Jordan’s decision, or at least didn’t believe it.
“What?” Jordan asked the cat. “I had to do that, okay? I hope you understand why.”
Chapter 12
Jordan walked out of the courtroom with Beth after the plea and sentencing in the Becker case. Her client would be going to prison for five years, but she had no regrets about this one. The plea offer was fair and he chose to take it, wisely realizing that the evidence against him was substantial and he risked far more time if he took the case to trial and was convicted. She was pleased to have the case closed, and even more pleased it was her last scheduled hearing of the day. There were more important things on her mind.
“I think Judge Benson’s happy to have that one done, too,” Beth said.
“Anything to avoid a high-profile trial that would polarize the public in an election year, right?” Jordan hadn’t been working in Grande Valley during the previous election cycle, so she didn’t know for sure if it really changed anything, but others in the criminal defense bar insisted it did, and she was starting to think they were right.
Beth’s eyes widened in mock horror. “How can you even say something like that about an esteemed member of the judiciary, especially when one of our best friends is a judge?”
Jordan laughed. “Our friend is a different kind of judge in a different state. I doubt she’d be offended at my opinion of Judge Benson.” They stepped out of the courthouse into the mid-afternoon sun.
“True. And Benson’s as political as they come.” Beth lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t tell anyone where you heard this, but his poll numbers are tanking.”
The news came as no surprise to Jordan. Great. I traded Hollywood politics for Texas justice politics. She wasn’t sure her new home came out ahead on that particular aspect, but overall her practice and her life in Texas suited her much better than California had. “If you’re done sharing political gossip,” she said, “do you want to walk with me to the Mexican grocery store?”
“Sure.” Beth fell into step beside her. “You can tell me what you’re cooking for Jake.”
“Who said anything about cooking for Jake?” Jordan tried to sound nonchalant but suspected she failed.
“Sarah, who called me this morning to tell me that you called Kelsey last night wanting advice on a recipe for a romantic dinner,” Beth explained. “This, of course, came as quite a shock to Sarah, given your past position on all things hearts and flowers, so she wanted to know what was up. Naturally, I felt obliged to fill her in.”
“Naturally.” Jordan groaned, wishing she’d simply looked at a cookbook, or gone on the internet and googled ‘romantic recipes.’ It wasn’t hard to imagine how their conversation had gone. “Have you settled on bridesmaid’s dresses yet?”
“Not quite,” Beth said with total seriousness. “But Sarah is lobbying for a January or February wedding date so she has an excuse to escape the New Hampshire winter.”
“Jesus.” Jordan rolled her eyes. “You’re both ridiculous.” They reached the intersection and she jabbed her finger on the button to trigger the walk signal.
Beth ignored that. “So what are you cooking?”
“Veal piccata.” The walk signal came on and Jordan started to cross the street.
“Then why are we going to the Mexican grocery?”
“Because I need cajeta for the chocolate flan.” Everyone said the caramel sauce from her usual American grocery store wasn’t the same.
Beth stopped in her tacks in the middle of the intersection. “You’re making chocolate flan?”
“Yes.” The traffic light changed and car horns blared. Jordan grabbed Beth’s arm and dragged her the last two feet to the sidewalk. “Since when does that justify practically getting run over?”
“Because, Jordan, I’ve lived in Grande Valley my whole life, and everyone here knows that when a girl makes chocolate flan, it means she plans on inviting a man to her bed.”
“I stand by my earlier assessment. You’re completely ridiculous.” Jordan yanked open the door of the small grocery and stepped inside. They were immediately greeted in Spanish by a short, heavy-set woman whom Jordan knew was the owner. She returned the greeting and, in her best mangled Spanish, asked for the caramel sauce made from goat’s milk.
“She’s making flan de chocolate,” Beth announced.
The woman’s eyes lit up and she gave Jordan a knowing smile. “Si. Buena suerte.”
Jordan glared at Beth. Great. You just announced that I plan on having sex tonight and she wished me luck.
***
Jake used his break between scenes to read more of the script Greg sent him a few days ago. He knew his agent was itching for an answer, but Jake didn’t want to commit to the project without having the opportunity to fully analyze it. Saint Lucia and Kate Hudson sounded really good, but there were other things to consider. Namely, a certain blonde lawyer who was hotter than Kate Hudson, anyway.
Still, the script so far was impressive, and Jake liked that both the plot and the character he’d be playing—a police detective— were nothing at all like Lance or Border Cowboys. The last thing he wanted was to be typecast.
Reece came over and sat beside him, eyes drifting to the title on the script. “That’s the new Chaz Collier film, right?” the director asked.
Jake nodded. “Yeah. My agent just sent it to me.”
“Leading role?”
Jake wondered why Reece was so curious. “Yes. I haven’t made up my mind yet,” he said. “I like the script, though.”
“Chaz is an old film school buddy of mine from UT,” Reece said. “He was two years ahead of me, so I considered him a mentor.”
“I didn’t know that,” Jake said, still not sure where the conversation was going.
“You weren’t expected to.” Reece shrugged. “Anyway, I’m familiar with the project and know how important it is to Chaz. He’s brilliant, but even the most brilliant directors need the right cast. There are plenty of actors who would practically kill for that part. I told Chaz I thought you were the guy, though.”
“I...wow.” The words took a few seconds to sink in. Reece White had personally recommended him to Chaz Collier? Jake didn’t know what to say. “Thank you,” he finally managed. “Your vote of confidence means a lot.”
“You’ve got some real talent. What you do with it is up to you.” Reece stood up. “Anyway, I came over to tell you that we need to accelerate our shooting schedule a bit. The studio wants to push us up for a Christmas release.”
Christmas release. Jake knew what that meant. Oscar eligibility. The main words he heard, though, were accelerating the shooting schedule. “Are we shooting late tonight?” he asked.
“Why? Do you have a hot date?” Reece chuckled. “We’re still wrapping at six tonight, but after this, don’t expect a lot of free time for the next few weeks. I hope that’s not a problem.”
“Not at all,” Jake promised. “This movie is the reason I’m here.”
“And you’re doing a great job,” Reece said. “So great that I sent some of the daily footage of your scenes to the press back in L.A. Never hurts to generate some early awards buzz, right?” He put on his sunglasses and walked away.
Jake watched him go and sank back in his chair, the new script momentarily forgotten. Was he imagining things, or did Reece White just hint that he was promoting Jake for a supporting actor nomination?
***
Local custom as an aphrodisiac or not, chocolate flan proved to be the most difficult recipe Jordan ever attempted. Hopefully, it would be worth it. With it in the oven and the timer set, she still had time before she needed to start the veal piccata, so she put fresh linens on
the bed. Better safe than sorry, right?
She tidied up the rest of the condo—which meant randomly tossing some things into the spare bedroom and shutting the door—before starting preparations on her main dish. She kept her phone nearby, ready to send an emergency plea to Kelsey if she faltered with the recipe. Fortunately, it proved easy to follow.
The chocolate flan sat chilling, and the main dish in the oven, when her phone chirped, signaling a text message.
Just about to leave. Do I need to bring anything?
Jordan smiled as she texted back. Just yourself. And your appetite.
A few seconds later, the phone chirped again. For the food? Or you?
Was that an invitation or a hint? Either way, Jordan hadn’t just spent two hours making chocolate flan not to want to get something out of it. A smile spread across her face as she typed her reply.
Chapter 13
Jake held his breath after he sent the last text to Jordan. Was it too cocky? Did it assume too much? If so, Jake blamed his talk with Reece for making him feel on the top of the world. And why not? He’d just learned he might be in contention for an Oscar nomination.
When Jake signed on for Border Cowboys, it was with the hope that the movie might generate some Oscar talk. Most people in Hollywood figured it was only a matter of time before Reece took home the coveted statue for Best Director, and the subject matter of the film was the kind of edgy stuff that the Academy usually loved. It was a good project to be involved in, even if it never became a box office hit. Still, Jake never allowed himself to dream that his role in the film might be included in the Oscar talk.
It still wasn’t, he had to remind himself. Just because Reece sent some dailies to a few Academy voters didn’t mean a nomination. For now, Jake tried to be content with the fact a rising-star director liked his work, that he knew what his next job would be—assuming he agreed to do the Chaz Collier project—and that he was about to spend the evening with an incredible, and incredibly hot, woman.
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