“You okay?” he asked, seeing her still standing by the door.

She smiled. “Yeah, sure.” She headed over and stood between the two beds, surveying the scene. “Makes me think of the Walls of Jericho.”

“From . . . the Bible story?”

Cameron laughed. “No, It Happened One Night.”

“Still not following you there. What happened one night?”

“You know, the movie, It Happened One Night.” She saw him shake his head. “Really? You should check it out—it’s a classic. Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert are on the run and they stop to spend the night at a motel. They’re not married, but they have to pretend they are, so for propriety’s sake Clark Gable strings a clothesline down the middle of the room and hangs a blanket over it. He calls it the ‘Walls of Jericho.’ ”

Jack stretched out on the bed, tucking his hands behind his head. Of course, being a man, he was already done unpacking and she had barely begun. “So in the movie, after he builds the Walls of Jericho, what happens next?” he asked.

“Things get pret-ty steamy from there. Clark Gable asks Claudette Colbert if she’s interested in learning how a man undresses. And then he takes his clothes off in front of her.”

“Sounds like a chick-flick. I bet Wilkins has seen it ten times.”

“And good for him. I think most men could learn a thing or two from so-called ‘chick-flicks.’ ”

“Like what?”

“Like how women think. What turns them on.”

“If I want to know what a woman’s thinking, I’ll just ask her.” The corners of Jack’s mouth lifted in a sly grin. “And if I want to know what turns her on, well, I’ll just ask her that, too.”

“Hmm.” Cameron grumbled her way into the bathroom. Impossible man—being all reasonable and everything. She unpacked her toothpaste, toothbrush, shampoo, and conditioner. She set them off to the side on the marble vanity, as if to suggest they were the only four products she would need the entire weekend. Hey—he was a man, he didn’t need to know there was a whole routine involved behind the curtain. And about fourteen other bottles in her suitcase.

When she came out of the bathroom, she saw Jack standing by the windows that spanned the length of the room. He gestured. “Come over here for a minute.”

She went over. He surprised her by pulling her into his arms, her back against his chest so that she looked out the window with him. Their room overlooked vibrant autumn-colored rolling hills and orchards, and the East Grand Traverse Bay.

“I like this view,” he said, his voice husky against her ear.

Cameron leaned her head against his chest—it was rare to have such a quiet moment with Jack in contrast to the chaos that had overshadowed their lives for the last couple of weeks. She pulled his arms tighter around her.

“Me, too.”

FOR THE DINNER that followed the rehearsal, Amy had reserved the entire space at Aerie Lounge, which was located on the sixteenth floor of the Tower. A convenient short elevator ride from Cameron and Jack’s room. Not so convenient for Cameron, however, was the fact that the cousins had cornered her by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bay, wanting to play Twenty Questions about Jack. Having recognized him from the bachelorette party, they’d been on her case ever since she’d walked into the rehearsal with him.

Cameron was relieved when she felt a hand at her elbow and heard a familiar voice to the left of her.

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies. I need to borrow Cameron for a few minutes.”

“Please make it more than a few,” she whispered as Collin led her to the opposite side of the room.

She kissed his cheek in an official hello. Since Amy had asked Collin to be a reader at the wedding, he had been at the rehearsal, too. But she’d been running around with various maid of honor tasks and hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to him there.

“I meant to tell you at the rehearsal: you look very dashing tonight. Love the navy sport coat and tie,” she said, gently tugging it.

“Richard gave it to me last Christmas,” Collin said.

Cameron saw the hurt in his eyes and knew how rare it was for him to show that. “Are you doing okay?”

He nodded. “Just . . . working through some things. Gay man in his thirties, dateless, the fifth wheel at his friend’s wedding. That kind of stuff.” His eyes held hers. “And aside from all that, I miss him.”

“Richard is a fool,” Cameron said. “And you’re not a fifth wheel. Technically, I only have a fake date to this wedding.”

Collin scoffed at this. “Looking like that, that won’t be the case for long.” He checked out her caramel-colored cocktail dress and heels. Her shoulder had begun bothering her midway through straightening her hair, so she’d pulled it back in a chignon and focused on smoky-eyed makeup instead. “I’m surprised Pallas let you out of the room like that,” he said. “At least without being a good hour late to the rehearsal.”

“And risk Amy’s wrath? No way—that woman scares even me,” Jack said from behind them.

As Jack joined them, he momentarily rested his hand on the small of Cameron’s back. She faced the party, so no one saw, but her body went warm just at the brief contact.

“I thought you could use a drink.” He handed her a glass of red wine.

Cameron smiled—partially because she’d been meaning to make it over to the bar for twenty minutes before being cornered by the cousins, and partially because she couldn’t get over how sexy Jack looked in his gray blazer and open-necked black shirt.

“Thank you,” she said.

Jack leaned in, and for a second Cameron thought he was going to kiss her. “You didn’t tell me this wedding was outside,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t think about it. From everything Amy’s told me about the setup, I barely consider it an outdoor wedding. Will that be a problem?” The last thing she wanted to do was make his job even harder.

“I promised I’d get you to this wedding. I’ll handle it.” With his back to the other guests so none of them could see, Jack laced his fingers with hers and pulled her closer, speaking low enough so only she could hear. “Collin is right, you know. You’re living very dangerously looking the way you do tonight, Cameron Lynde.” He brushed his thumb over hers before leaving.

Cameron watched as Jack headed over to a bar table by the door where the two FBI agents from the Detroit office sat. She sipped her wine and took her time simply enjoying the view of him.

He’d brought her a drink and complimented the way she looked. This fake date of hers was starting to seem more real every minute.

She turned to Collin. “It means that I’m the stupidest person in the world, right? That I’m actually excited and happy despite having a psycho killer stalking me?”

Collin peered down at her. “I think you know what it means.”

He clinked his glass to hers.

LATER THAT EVENING, Jack sat in bed, the pillow propped behind his back, while he talked on his cell phone. He’d called Wilkins to see if there had been any developments in the investigation, hoping that something had panned out with one of the Chicago cops his partner had spoken to. So far, unfortunately, none of them appeared to have leaked any information about Cameron’s involvement in the case.

“How’s it going on your end?” Wilkins asked. “You having any fun up there?”

Of course, Cameron chose that moment to poke her head out of the bathroom. “Hey—is there a trick to getting hot water in this place?”

“You have to let the faucet run for a good five minutes.”

Jack turned back to his phone call.

“You’re sharing a room with her, huh?” Wilkins asked.

Jack thought of how Cameron looked in that caramel-colored dress. He’d never seen her wear her hair like that before, nor that sultry thing she’d done with her eye makeup. She’d looked sophisticated yet incredibly beddable, and as a result, he’d been at half-mast all evening. Full-mast when he’d watched her eat the maraschino cherry from Collin’s drink. Thank God he’d been standing behind a table at the time.