Chapter 8

He’d cleaned up since the last time she saw him, the jeans now black, the T-shirt spotless. The hair was still mussed, though the smile was as friendly as the one he’d worn when she walked away. She returned it automatically, and though her pulse quickened at his appearance, she wasn’t nearly as flustered at the sensation. If anything, it exhilarated her, like inhaling a cutting gust of a brisk wind, sharpening the edges of the world to her own private high-def movie.

“Hi.” She immediately felt stupid. Something about Simon reduced her to idiotic single syllables.

“Hi.” His gaze slid past her to the bouncer. “Thanks, Charlie. I’ll take it from here.” Slipping his hand beneath her elbow, Simon hesitated before pulling her aside. “Can we talk, please?”