Page 29 of Jack

But she’d managed to edge near the hearth.

The other server had stopped to allow a woman to finish her champagne.Bam,and fast-break to the goal.

Emberly stepped out, quick-walking toward Stone and his group?—

Stone left the group, heading for the bride.

And that’s when Mr. Reflexes nearly took her out. How he’d moved from over at the bar to right in front of hearth, she had no idea, but he jerked back, hands up. “Sorry!” He again caught her tray. “I guess I’m destined to take you out.”

She had steadied herself before the empty glasses toppled onto him, and now fabricated a smile. “No problem.”

Except Stone had dumped his glass, and there went her future.

Reflexes had gone to the front, whistled, and introduced his father, who stepped up to pray.

She headed back to the kitchen to regroup.

In the end, it was easier than she thought. She simply walked around after dinner with coffee, sidled up to Stone and offered him decaf or leaded.

“Full strength,” he said, glancing up at her.

She didn’t look at him.Invisible.But as she caught the extra drips with her other napkin, she removed his butter knife.

That should work.

She just needed a thumbprint.

For tonight.

She had four days to get the rest.

It would help if she didn’t feel eyes on her as she finished serving the coffee. If, as she exited the room, she didn’t glance back and seehim.

Reflexes—what had they called him? Steinbeck?—his blue eyes on her, connecting with hers—oops!—for a long second before she disappeared into the kitchen.

That was close.

She wrapped the knife into her napkin, then, while the rest of the servers trafficked through the kitchen, she stepped out into the entryway, grabbed her jacket, and exited the supper club.

As she disappeared into the night, toward her rental, she took off the wig and shook out her short red hair. Then she took off the apron and dropped it all into the dumpster.

Now that was what she called invisible.

FOUR

The driveback to the inn, trapped in the car with Jack, didn’t hurt quite as much as Harper thought it would.

In the dim light from the dash, she had only his low tenor and the outline of his face to remind her of the terrible dream-come-true moment of finally sitting in his cute little—and yes, ancient—Geo Tracker.

It wasn’t quite as romantic as she’d dreamed, the heater barely keeping up, the seats narrow and cracked. But he still had those amazing hands that could catch a football and . . .

And that’s when she pulled herself out of her high-school fantasy and back to the present, to the casual catch-up conversation that Jack was attempting.

“I hear you’re freelancing. I thought you were working for some magazine in Nashville.”

Interesting. He knew that? “I’m in between gigs. Are you still doing the missing person’s thing? What do you call it—being a rewardist?”

“I don’t call it anything. I just . . . show up and help if I can.”