“I’ll take it.” Jay held out his hand even though she hadn’t said a word. She shrugged off his jacket, wondering if this was what it was like for normal couples. Anticipating each other’s needs. Understanding the compulsion to gush all over your favorite Broadway star. She supposed it was handy when said Broadway star was fifty yards away, and you had a limited window of time to get the autograph you’d been dreaming about for the last five years.
She had taken only a few shuffling steps forward when Lin-Manuel moved back toward the door. Her heart leaped into her throat. No. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t get this close to her celebrity dream only to be held back by firmly stitched pink Chanel and four-inch heels.
Strong hands gripped her hips, holding her in place. She looked over her shoulder and saw Jay kneeling down behind her.
“Shoes,” he said.
“What?” Her voice wavered, the disappointment of missing her chance almost too much to bear.
“Your shoes. Quickly. Take them off. You’ll be able to catch him in bare feet.”
Hope flared in her chest and then faded. “But . . . my skirt. It’s too tight to run.”
Jay gripped the material on either side of the back slit and pulled it apart, rending the skirt a few extra inches at the seam.
“Jay . . .” Her voice caught when he slipped off her shoes, holding up his hand to help her balance. “I don’t want to embarrass you. I promised myself I’d keep things low-key.”
“You could never embarrass me.” He gestured to the door. “Now run, sweetheart. Lin-Manuel Miranda is in the house.”
It was stupidly romantic.
It was everything.
She had never been so irritated in her life.
? 22 ?
The knock, when it came, startled her. Curled up on the couch watching Annie, with a carton of ice cream, a glass of red wine, and Marmalade purring on her lap, Zara was busy wallowing in self-pity and not inclined to answer the door.
How badly had she messed things up for Jay when she’d run barefoot across the City Club? Had it been enough to dissuade him from being so damn . . . nice? Where was the arrogant, officious, bossy Jay from the paintball field? She wanted him back.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Who is it?” The building had a buzzer downstairs and the other tenants on the floor kept to themselves. Parvati was out on a date for the evening and had her own key.
“Security.” She didn’t recognize the muffled voice, so she checked through the peephole and saw Jay’s stern face partially covered in dark glasses.
“Jay?”
“J-Tech Security, ma’am. There was a theft at the City Club last night. Apparently, the thief fled in bare feet. We followed the trail to this address.”
Zara swallowed hard. Time for the reckoning. She’d been too embarrassed to return to the table after her celebrity encounter so she’d called an Uber to take her home. She hadn’t even said good-bye.
She opened the door a few inches. Jay was in full uniform: dark glasses, black hat, blue shirt, safety vest, black pants, heavy boots, and a utility belt that held a flashlight, baton, handcuffs, and a walkie-talkie. He was her fantasy come to life, but opening that door would mean dealing with the desperate, aching feelings she’d been trying so hard to ignore.
“There are no thieves here. You must have the wrong address.”
“You have bare feet.” He pointed to the floor, where her freshly polished nails gleamed in the light. Self-loathing didn’t include missing her Saturday morning pedicure.
“So do a lot of people.”
“Do those feet fit in these shoes?” He held up her pink stilettos.
“Are you Prince Charming?” Unable to resist, she opened the door wider. “If my foot fits, will you carry me away to your castle to be your princess forever?”
“I’ll arrest you for leaving the scene of a crime.”
Laughter bubbled up in her chest. This was so absurd. So utterly unlike Jay. He’d done this for her. Dressed up for her. And this game—this role play—was something he must have known she would love. A thick warm rush of feelings swirled through her, cloaking her in warmth. Before she had even made the conscious decision, she had fully opened the door.
“That’s not very romantic.” She moved to the side to let him in. “I suppose you can check the place out if you must, but you won’t find any stolen property here. It’s just me and my cat. My roommate is out on a hot date”
“We’ll see about that.” Jay stepped into the apartment, his uniformed presence filling the room. She was suddenly and acutely aware that beneath her robe she wore only an old T-shirt and plain white cotton pants.