Jordan gestured to the gun as she followed Nick to the front door. “Take it easy there, cowboy. I don’t want you blowing a hole through some poor guy asking for donations for Greenpeace.”

“Door-to-door solicitations when it’s fifteen degrees outside?” Nick asked. “I don’t think so.”

The doorbell rang a third time.

Nick gestured to the door. “You have a library, a wine cellar, an espresso machine that looks like it could launch a space shuttle, and yet no peephole. Personal security isn’t a priority for you?”

“I have another security measure that works just fine,” Jordan retorted. “It’s called an alarm system.” Using the panel on the wall next to the door, she deactivated the security alarm before unlocking the deadbolt. She glanced over at Nick, who had moved to her side and stood behind the door.

He nodded.

Jordan opened the door and—

—Panicked.

Melinda stood on the doorstep, shivering. “Geez, took you long enough to answer. Let me in—it’s freezing out here.”

Before Jordan could say anything, Melinda brushed past her and stepped inside. As her friend unwrapped her scarf, Jordan peeked over her shoulder and saw Nick standing behind the door. He shrugged helplessly.

She leaned against the door, keeping it open so that she could block Melinda’s view of Nick. Hopefully, whatever the reason behind this untimely visit, they could keep things short and quick. Without her moving an inch from that spot.

“So here’s the question,” Melinda led in. “Who’s Tall, Dark, and Smoldering?”

Jordan gestured nonchalantly with her free hand, the one that didn’t have a death grip on her front door. “I’ll go with Gerard Butler in 300. Or that naked guy from the first Sex and the City movie.”

Melinda pointed. “Good answers. But neither is correct today.” She pulled a folded newspaper out of her oversized purse. “This just in from Anne Welch’s Scene and Heard column in the Sun-Times, the weekend roundup.” She read out loud from the paper. “ ‘Millionaire restaurateur Xander Eckhart’s annual charity fund-raiser at uber-swanky restaurant and nightclub Bordeaux raised over a hundred thousand dollars for Children’s Memorial Hospital and proved once again the place to be seen by Chicago’s social elite.’ ”

She held up her finger for emphasis as she read the next part. “ ‘Gorgeously attired in an amethyst-colored backless dress, wine entrepreneur Jordan Rhodes, daughter of billionaire Grey Rhodes and sister of the illustrious Kyle Rhodes, who made headlines worldwide five months ago when he . . .’” Melinda cleared her throat. “Well, I think we can skip over that part, Twitter, prison, et cetera, et cetera. Ah, here we go: ‘Ms. Rhodes attended the party with an unknown man who sources describe as tall, dark, and smoldering. Sources also say that the couple appeared quite close. Here’s hoping, for all our sakes, that this Rhodes twin is luckier in love than her brother.’ ”

Melinda refolded the paper and stared expectantly at Jordan. “So I repeat: who is ‘tall, dark, and smoldering’?”

Jordan swore to herself—potently vile, offensive curse words that undoubtedly were not in the vocabulary of most billionaire heiresses. She knew that Melinda would never, ever in a million years let this go until she had some answers. The jig was officially up.

She pushed the door closed, revealing Nick.

He grinned and held out his hand in introduction. “Nick Stanton.”

“Interesting.” Melinda’s eyes went wide as she slowly shook his hand. “Melinda Jackson.” Coming in at a flat five feet tall, she let her gaze travel up and up before she got to Nick’s face. She seemed to take particular note of his unshaven jaw and casually untucked dress shirt.

She turned to Jordan with a grin that spoke volumes. Somebody got la-id. “Now I know why it took you so long to get to the door.”

“Nice, Mel. We were simply . . .” Jordan looked at Nick for help.

“Trying to start her espresso machine,” he offered.

Melinda raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you kids call it nowadays?”

“Did you come here this morning solely to harass me about my date?” Jordan asked.

“Actually, after reading the paper, I came over to drag you out to brunch. I didn’t realize the date was still going. So tell me all about yourself, Nick. I’m eager for the details, since Jordan is being so circumspect these days.”

Nick opened his mouth, but Jordan promptly cut him off. She had to set some rules here: no lies, or as few as possible, to her friends and family. “Actually, Mel, we’ll have to take a rain check on the meet and greet. Nick and I were just about to run out. Can I call you later?”

Melinda studied her suspiciously. “You’re acting awfully odd. What’s going on here?”

Nick came to her rescue. “It’s my fault. I roped Jordan into coming with me to meet a friend for coffee. My sneaky way of keeping the date going.” He slid his arm around Jordan’s waist and pulled her close.

“Aw, aren’t you two just the cutest?” Melinda smiled at Nick. “Some other time, then. Oh, I know—Jordan should bring you to dinner at Corinne’s on Saturday. That way you can meet everyone at once.”

Jordan shook her head. No way, no how—that would mean lying to her friends all evening. “Oh, unfortunately, Nick already has plans for Saturday.” She spun around to face him, which put her body smack up against his firm—really firm—chest.