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 she was engaged to another man. Then again, it was only Chinese, not a clandestine, candlelit dinner in the shadowed alcove of an expensive restaurant. And Paul wasn’t exactly at the top of her Prince Charming list at the moment, either.
Reid had been kind enough to see her home after her upset; the least she could do was let him combine his lunch hour with the good deed.
She unlocked the door and let them in, heading for the kitchen while he took a seat on the sofa and unpacked their lunch on the coffee table.
“What would you like to drink?” she asked as she moved around, collecting plates and utensils. “I’d offer you a glass of wine, but you probably don’t want to drink on the job.”
Reid offered her a crooked smile, popping the top on a square white carton and taking an appreciative sniff. “I think I can handle one glass of wine. Besides, it’s not like I’m a cop on duty. The rest of my day is pretty light, and if I drink too much, I can always take a cab back to the office.”
“So that’s a yes on the wine?” she teased.
He shot her a teasing look right back. “Yes.”
“Should I ask if you prefer red or white?”
“Whatever you think goes best with Chinese takeout.”
She opted for a bottle of zinfandel that was already open and added two glasses to everything else she’d already gathered.
In the living room, she lowered herself to the sofa beside him, setting out the plates and silverware and pouring the wine. Reid doled out portions of lo mein, fried rice, General Tso’s chicken and crab rangoons for each of them, then grabbed a fork and leaned back into the soft cushions of the couch.
Kicking off her shoes, she folded her legs beneath her and did the same.
For long minutes, they ate in silence. Juliet honestly wasn’t sure what to say, given everything that had transpired already that day, but she was enjoying the flavors of food she hadn’t eaten in far too long.
“Looks like you were hungry,” Reid commented, glancing at her half-empty plate. His wasn’t much fuller, though, so she didn’t take it personally.
Moving what was left of her food around with her fork, she said, “Yeah. I’ve been a little distracted lately. Probably not eating as well as I should.”
To say the least. Between plans for a wedding and her confusion about her relationship with Paul, she’d been eating like a bird. Sometimes literally grabbing only a banana or a handful of granola on her way out the door.
“Lily and Zoe and I used to order Chinese when we pulled all-nighters,” she told him. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call Chinese takeout ‘health food,’ but it sure does hit the spot once in a while.”
“It does,” Juliet replied softly. “And this is nice. Thank you for suggesting it.”
He shrugged a shoulder, took a sip of his wine. “You’re the one who said we should grab Chinese and bring it back here. I just thought it looked like you could use a break, and figured getting something to eat while I was out of the office made more sense than trying to come up with an excuse for going out to lunch again after I get back.”
Her lips lifted in a whisper of a smile, more to herself than for him. He was just being kind, and she knew it. As owner of McCormack Investigations, he could come and go as he pleased. It was a multimillion-dollar corporation, and he employed enough other investigators and support staff that the place could probably run itself for a week or two without him, let alone a few hours.
He’d offered to bring her home to be sure she was safe. He hadn’t wanted her returning to her fiancé after the confession she’d made in his office. Then he’d wanted to be sure she was okay—not just physically, but emotionally, as well. He’d brought up the idea of lunch to keep her from locking herself in the loft and spending the rest of the day moping around.
He hadn’t said any of that, of course, he’d simply steered her in a direction that wouldn’t allow her to be alone with her jumbled thoughts or disillusionments.
Not for the first time, she wondered why she couldn’t have met Reid before Paul. Of course, she’d met Paul in college, long before she’d ever moved to New York or had the need to hire a private investigator.
But suddenly—all right, maybe not so suddenly—she’d found herself thinking about Reid much more often than she thought about Paul. Pulling away from Paul because whenever they were together, Reid’s face or voice would fill her head.
When Paul would reach for her, she’d stiffen, never knowing if his touch would be gentle or rough. Reid had only ever shaken her hand or touched the small of her back, and the memory of it could make her shiver. Day or night. For no reason at all or because she’d been concentrating too hard on what it might be like to have him touch her