Page 7 of Regards, Mia

“Why bother?”

I run a hand through my hair, facing my reflection in the mirror. The determined glint in my eyes is a little scary, even to me. “We can’t let him get away with this,” I say.

Elena sighs heavily. “I’ll think about it.”

“Text me when and where,” I say. “I’ll be there.”

Elena agrees to let me know, and we hang up. Feeling more confident about nailing Mattson, I drop my phone into my purse and apply another coat of my signature red lipstick. With Elena’s cooperation, I’m sure I can get enough evidence for Jordan to change his mind. Maybe I can get her to meet with him and wear a wire. There’s got to be a way to convict him.

I’m contemplating my strategy as I weave through the restaurant toward our table, only to stop short when I see Jay is sitting by himself. Harrison and Emily are gone.

“Where did they go?”

“They had a real estate emergency,” Jay says.

My brows lift. “Both of them?”

He shrugs. “I think we just got ditched.”

“What?”

“Our dates would rather be with each other than us,” he says in a dry voice.

“You’re saying Harrison and Emily went home together?”

“Definitely.”

A surprised laugh escapes my mouth. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why Emily would choose Harrison over Jay. Maybe she hit her head on one of those lovely tile countertops.

I glare at the bottle of wine on the table. “He better have paid for that.”

Jay picks up the bottle and squints at the label. “Never tried it.”

“It’s one of the most expensive bottles on the menu,” I say, seething with frustration. “He said he was celebrating.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jay waves it off. “I got it.”

“No. That’s not fair.”

I’m all about justice. And not too happy about being dumped and stiffed with the bill.

Jay stands and pulls out the chair Emily vacated. “Mia, have dinner with me.”

My body instantly reacts to his command. I’m tingly all over, a pile of mush where I’d been so hard with annoyance only moments before. That voice will do it. All he has to say is my name.

“Harrison is paying for that wine,” I say, swiping my phone to life with renewed determination.

Jay reaches over, plucks my phone from my hand and drops it into my purse. “No more phones.”

My shoulders stiffen at the absurdity of his suggestion. “What if there’s an emergency?”

He takes the chair next to me, scooting in so our legs brush. “Let someone else handle it.”

“But…”

He runs his finger down the menu. “Have you eaten?”

I watch the slow glide of his finger down the menu selections, imagining how it might feel against my skin. “Not yet.”

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