Page 32 of Lead Me On
“Stepdad.”
In high school Chase had known one of the Mac-Kenzies, but her name hadn’t been Jane. She’d been a pale blonde with a world’s worth of problems and a love of thick black eyeliner. Had Big Mac remarried?
Jane was squirming, ready to get away, and the squirming was rather pleasant in her current attire. She looked at the door of Ryders, squinting a little.
“Have you had dinner?” he asked.
“I don’t have time for a date tonight, Chase. And I’ve got to…” She swept a dismissive hand down her body. “My clothes.”
Yeah. Her clothes. “I’ll take you back into Ryders for a burger if you’ll promise to tell me what’s going on.”
Her eyes screamed suspicion. “Why?”
“Because you want to go back in and I want to know what the hell you and Mac were talking about.”
She cocked her head, studying him. Her red lips glistened. “Arlo will call Mac.”
“I’ll talk to Arlo.”
“You know him?”
He shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Sure.”
“All right. I’ll have a burger with you. But this counts as our date.”
Relief swept through his gut. If she’d refused, he wouldn’t have gotten any sleep tonight. His mind would’ve raced for hours, trying to figure out exactly who Jane Morgan was and why she was going undercover at a biker bar. “Deal. But you stay with me. No wandering off on your sting operation or whatever the hell it is.”
He surprised a distracted smile out of her before she made a beeline for the door. Her toe caught on the threshold and she stumbled a little.
“You can put your glasses on if you like. I don’t mind.”
“They clash with the toe ring.”
Chase glanced down. With the visual bounty on display, he hadn’t noticed the silver toe ring. And he forgot it again when she took his hand and pulled him toward an empty booth. The tank top stretched thin across her breasts, revealing the whole lovely curve of plump flesh. His mouth watered in memory.
“Okay,” he murmured as she slid into a booth. “Wait right here. I’ll talk to Arlo. You want a drink?”
She shook her head and Chase rushed off to assure Arlo that he’d assumed responsibility for Jane. The bartender seemed relieved to hand over the burden and happily donated two Cokes to the cause. Chase added a couple of burgers to the order.
“All right,” he murmured as he slid into a seat opposite Jane. “Spill it.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
JANE TRIED TO HIDEthe shaking of her hands by wrapping them around the glass he handed her. She was totally exposed. Physically, yes, but it was more than that.
For years she’d ignored the background static of her life, pretended that she was simply somewhere else. In high school she’d put her head down and plowed through her classes, ignoring the insults of the boys she’d once chased and the girls who’d never liked her. She’d smiled her way through graduation when her mom had worn a tube top that prompted catcalls from her classmates. After school she’d dyed her hair back to its natural brown and changed her name and taken a job in Aspen, and that had been the end of it. She’d been done.
Except that it wasn’t done. Jane had started over, but she hadn’t gone far enough.
She should have moved to Denver. New York. London.
Why hadn’t she gone farther?
She knew why. Arrogance. John McInnis Architecture had been her very first job. It had been a stepping stone. A way to save money for college. But she’d been good at it. Really good. She’d worked her way from file clerk to receptionist to personal assistant to Mr. McInnis. It had been invigorating, being good at something. Being respected. Being deferred to. Pride had filled her like a drug.
She’d worked for Mr. McInnis for three years before he’d retired and recommended her to help start Quinn Jennings’s new office. Then her fate had truly been sealed, because Mr. Jennings had given her a small stake in the company as a starting bonus. Her transformation had been complete. She’d become a businesswoman. An office manager. Apartner.
And if she occasionally ran into people from her old life, it didn’t matter. They didn’t see her. She wasn’t that girl anymore. She’d let herself be lulled into thinking she was safe. The static had been reduced to a faint hum. The sound of a television turned on in the next apartment.
