Her nod was barely discernible.
“Can you arrange to have someone there with you?” If not, he’d stake out the place himself.
“Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“Depends on how comfortable you are with him finding out where you are and showing up.”
“I’m not. I’ll call my business partners and see if one of them will join me.”
“Good plan.” He picked up her phone and swiped the screen to bring it to life.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Adding my number to your contacts. If you need me for anything, if Donald gives you any grief, I want you to call me.”
“I’m sure he won’t—”
“Please promise me you’ll call.”
“All right. If he calls me, I’ll call you.” She sounded convincing. And then she laughed. “I’ll have to find a ring tone for you, so if you call me I’ll know who it is.”
“Don’t need one.” He tucked the phone into her jacket pocket, leaned in and caught one soft earlobe between his teeth. “It won’t ring when I call. It’ll vibrate.”
* * *
CLAIRE STOOD IN FRONT of the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth. Luke had just left, she had a new front door key on her ring and this was the first chance she’d had to reflect on the events of the past eighteen hours or so since she’d run into him yesterday afternoon.
She looked perfectly ordinary. Same wavy brown hair, same dark-rimmed glasses, her favorite suit. No one looking at her would ever guess she’d ridden on a motorcycle, brought a man home to spend the night and had a tattooed guy named Marty change her locks.
She rinsed her mouth, then rinsed her toothbrush and returned it to its holder.
“And don’t forget seeing your ex held at gunpoint.”
Ironic that she and Luke had joked about the movie versions of their lives over dinner last night, and now hers felt every bit like one. But forget Mona Lisa Smile. This felt more Ocean’s Eleven. Or The Pelican Brief.
She rolled her eyes at her reflection. “Would you listen to yourself? You’re being ridiculous.” This was all simply a bizarre series of coincidences that had led to a bizarre series of incidents. In a few minutes she’d be on her way to the office to meet clients, just as she did every Saturday. Her life was perfectly normal, just the way she liked it.
And it was about to get even more normal, because sometime between Donald’s intrusion last night and having a tattooed biker change the lock this morning, she had made a decision. It was time to sell the condo, finalize the divorce and move on. If she left for work now, she would get to the office with time to spare. While she waited for her clients to arrive, she could look at real estate listings with her own wish list in mind.
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