Lucky for them he wasn’t working vice. He didn’t care who was carrying pot or who had outstanding warrants. He’d have to act if one of them had a rolling meth lab sitting in the parking lot—in fact, he’d carefully sniffed the air before coming in—but other than that he’d give them a pass. They weren’t his target tonight.

No, his target stood out like a diamond sitting in a bowl of rocks. Jaclyn had class, beauty, and balls. Other women might’ve cried or fallen apart, but she’d kept her cool. Sort of. Her walk killed him: sexy and slow and enticing. That sharp navy blue business suit clung in the right places, nipping in at the waist to show her trim figure, while the skirt ended just above the knee and gave him a good look at those legs. The glare she sent his way cut through him, but not in the way she intended.

After saying a few words to the three horrified ladies, she smiled at them and left the restaurant without looking back. Eric slid off his stool and followed her; no one was sorry to see him go, and no one noted aloud that he’d only taken two bites of a wing and one sip of tea. His feelings were almost hurt because no one said good-bye.

In the parking lot, he easily caught up with Jaclyn; her legs were long, but the snug skirt and high heels kept her from walking as fast as she’d like.

“I really do need to talk to you,” he said as she reached her Jag.

“If you want to question me again, call my lawyer.”

“Dammit, Jaclyn, listen to me,” he said sharply, irritation flashing to life.

“That’s Ms. Wilde to you,” she snapped as she opened her car door and tossed her purse into the passenger seat. She got in the car, but before she had a chance to close the door he grabbed the top of it, held it.

“The man you saw, the gray-haired one,” he began. “Do you—”

She gave him a disbelieving look that he could read even in the not-very-well-lit parking lot. “What do I have to say to get this through your head?” she asked incredulously. “I didn’t pay attention to his face, and I can’t identify his car beyond saying it was a silver sedan. I’m not a car person. I can tell you for sure it wasn’t a truck or an SUV, and that’s about it. The color might’ve been more of a champagne but I’m pretty sure it was just silver. Beyond that, I don’t know. When I left Carrie—alive—I was flustered, I was angry, and I wasn’t trying to memorize strangers in the parking lot. Are we through now? I have a job I’m trying to do, if you’ll just get out of my way!” She jerked the car door closed, and he had to move his hand or get it crushed.

Without glancing at him again, she started the engine and almost, but not quite, spun her wheels on the gravel as she sped out of the parking lot. Probably she’d wanted to.

Well, that conversation had gone pretty much as he’d imagined it would. But even though he hadn’t found out anything useful, he had taken the first step back to an intimate footing with her. Pissed her off, too. The connection was still there, though. Even when she was mad as hell, even though she fought not to show it, the connection was there.

He watched her taillights until they were out of sight, wondering if he should follow her to the wedding, but what was the point? A wedding wasn’t like this circus of a rehearsal dinner; she’d be busy, and very unhappy to see him yet again. Better to give her a little bit of space tonight, let her cool down and do some thinking. He wasn’t just using the man she’d seen as an excuse; sometimes people remembered more than they thought they did, they just needed to think about it, let the details surface. She had to have seen more than she’d just said.

Tomorrow was plenty of time to make contact again. Maybe by then she wouldn’t look as if she wanted to take a swing at him.


Chapter Twenty

MAYBE IT WAS ONLY BECAUSE SHE WAS COMPARING IT to the scene at Porky’s BBQ, but the Bulldog wedding not only went off without a hitch, but it was remarkably charming. And thank God she’d had it to keep her mind occupied, otherwise she’d be at home, fuming over her last run-in with Eric, unable to sleep or eat or even concentrate on HGTV. Being busy was good. Being too busy to think was even better.

The guests had enjoyed the less-than-traditional theme, and everyone had gotten a laugh when the ring-bearer had walked solemnly down the aisle in his little tux and football helmet. It had to be good karma, to be in the presence of so many happy people. Jaclyn figured she was due some good karma, because lately bad karma had been jumping all over her.

The church was a large one, with several buildings other than the sanctuary, one of which housed a large reception facility. Instead of getting in their cars and driving to another location the guests had been able to simply walk, which had greatly simplified matters. The weather had cooperated, too; the humidity had backed off a little so the night air was actually comfortable, and a light breeze was blowing. A sliver of moon lit the sky, and a few small clouds were visible scudding along, backlit by the silver glow.

The entire event had been beautiful, everything had met the customer’s specifications, and there had been no crises to be averted. All things considered, the night had been a success, at least professionally. On a personal level, Jaclyn had no idea where she was or what she was supposed to be feeling. Too much had happened in the past four days, beginning with the insanity of sleeping with Eric just hours after meeting him. She had been bombarded with emotions from every point of the scale, from ecstasy to rage, with fear, sadness, resentment, and even guilt thrown into the mix. She could no longer make sense of things; all she was doing was holding on, getting through each moment and hoping her mental equilibrium would return once this hellish week was past.

By midnight, the bride and groom were off, and most of the guests were gone. Because Diedra had arrived so early, she’d snagged a good parking space in the church lot; they walked out together, then said their tired good nights as Diedra stopped at her car. Jaclyn wasn’t so lucky. She’d had to find a parking space on the street, across four lanes and half a block down. A couple of late-leaving guests were also walking across the street so she wasn’t alone, though their car was parked about thirty yards before hers. She said good-bye to them, too, and they congratulated her on how well everything had gone. She thanked them and continued on her way, her heels clicking against the pavement.

The upper-middle-class neighborhood in a nice part of Atlanta was quiet this time of night; the big trees lining the street created deep shadows and a sense of lushness. Someone nearby had a flower garden, and the sweet, rich fragrance drifted Jaclyn’s way, making her wish she could put in a small patio garden even though she knew she didn’t have time to tend it. In the distance she heard car doors slam, and people laugh. It had been a good night. Amend that: the last part of the night had been good.

She unlocked the Jag and got in, then took a deep breath as she mentally checked off the tasks that had been completed during the long day. They were over the hump. Three weddings down, three to go. Her mother and Peach were probably wrapping up the Pink wedding about now, too. When she got home she’d call to see if everything had gone well with the Family Drama rehearsal as well as the Pink wedding, but there hadn’t been any phone calls tonight so she knew there hadn’t been any real disasters. Glitches, maybe; disasters, no. That was something.

The big wedding on Sunday would be an all-day affair for Premier, but at least it was the only thing they had. After that was over, they’d have a breather, a few precious days to rest and regroup. She might even take Monday off. Since she and Madelyn had started Premier she’d never just not gone in to work. She’d taken one weeklong vacation—three years ago—and she’d stayed home sick a couple of times when she wasn’t needed, but other than that she’d always been there. After the week she’d had, she deserved a little break.

She started the engine and put the transmission in gear, but kept her foot on the brake as she looked over her shoulder to check for oncoming traffic.

Good thing she did, because a car pulled away from the curb behind her, back close to the intersection, and barreled down the street, wobbling a bit between the lanes. Jaclyn automatically tensed, keeping an eye on the speeding car as she waited for it to pass. The way the car was jerkily swerving, the driver was probably drunk. She hoped the drunk driver hadn’t come from the reception; there had been some drinkers, of course, but none of them had made asses of themselves. No one else had been walking ahead of her and the couple who had crossed the street with her, but the driver could have come out earlier and been sitting in the car for a few minutes, maybe hoping to sober up a little, maybe fumbling for keys.

Thank God she hadn’t pulled out into the street yet; if the idiot could just get past without sideswiping her, she’d be good to go. But as she watched the car in her rearview mirror, sideswiping began to seem increasingly possible. The other car seemed to be aiming right for her. The distance was covered in just a couple of seconds but the time seemed to stretch painfully long. She gripped the steering wheel to brace herself, closed her eyes, and prayed.

The car pulled alongside; it didn’t come to a complete stop, simply slowed with a jerk that barked the tires a little. Jaclyn opened her eyes and jerked her head around, but even with the streetlights shining the driver was kind of a dark blob. What she did see was the light reflecting off something metallic that was pointing toward her. There was a split second of incredulity before she recognized the metallic thing for what it was: a gun.