Scott peeked over Allison’s shoulder, his grin so wide he reminded me of the Joker. “She said yes, dude!”
“Yeah,” I said with a chuckle. “We already covered that.”
Allison turned her attention to Veronica, who tried to hide her face under the guise of reading the wine list. “And who is this? Oh, have we interrupted a date? Bax, it’s about time you dated again.”
“Hey, I’ve gone on dates.”
“Making out with the waitress from the Flying Pig in an alley and then throwing up on her doesn’t count.”
I narrowed my eyes at Scott. “You told her?”
“He tells me everything, silly.” Allison smacked my shoulder with her un-ringed hand. She returned focus to Veronica, who still studied the wine list with intent, her dark hair masking her face. “Now who is your date? I’m Baxter’s friend Allison. Nice to meet y—”
She reeled from the table and Veronica’s hair peeled back like a curtain as a server breezed past us.
“I . . . I know you.” Allison studied Veronica’s face. “You’re Rachel. You were with Scott the night of the party. Except you were blond. What are you doing with Baxter?”
For the first time since I’d met her, Veronica looked like she couldn’t find words. Her eyes darted between me, Scott, and Allison. For his part, Scott took one look at Veronica and seemed just about ready to bolt from the restaurant or vomit on the carpeted floor.
I said the first thing that came to my mind. “Oh, you must mean Veronica’s sister, Rachel.”
Veronica’s head whipped up and she reached for her water.
“Her sister?” Allison asked, her words tinged with doubt.
“Yeah.” I forced my voice to remain neutral. “This is Veronica. She’s actually agreed to be my new business partner. She has a lot of great contacts and believes in my product.” Veronica choked on a piece of ice from her water glass. She thumped her chest, but I ignored her and continued, “Anyway, we’re having our first get-together to learn more about each other, and she did mention having a sister named Rachel. That must be who you’re talking about.”
Veronica cleared her throat. “That’s right. My sister. That has to be who you’re talking about. She and I really aren’t very close, but she can be a bit of a . . .”
“Slut?” Allison asked.
“I was going to say flirt.” Veronica’s gaze cut across the table, sharper than my steak knife.
“If you say so,” Allison said. “So . . . so you really don’t know Scott?”
“No, sorry. I’ve never met either of you.” Veronica stuck her hand out to my very sweaty best friend. “I’m guessing you’re Scott. I’m Veronica. Congrats on the engagement.”
Scott stared at me as he shook her hand. “Yeah, thanks. Nice to meet you, Veronica.”
“Well,” I said, hoping to get rid of them before Scott sweated into a puddle, “we still have a lot to talk about here, but how about I take you guys out for celebratory drinks this weekend?”
“Sure, bud. We’ll text later and set it up. Enjoy the rest of your dinner. Come on, Ally.” Scott pulled his fiancée from the table so fast, I was surprised he didn’t walk away with just her arm.
“Sister?” Veronica eyed me over her glass of champagne. She drained the glass in a single gulp.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to drink.”
She dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “I need it after that little confrontation.”
I downed mine, too. The liquid wasn’t as sweet as I expected. It tasted like seltzer water with a hint of citrus. That was what people paid the big bucks for? Beer was far better, and way less of a strain on the wallet.
Setting down the glass, I wiped my mouth on my sleeve. Veronica loudly cleared her throat and glared at me. I muttered to myself, but dutifully picked up my napkin and passed it across my lips. “Sorry about the sister thing. It was all I could come up with. Scott told me the story you guys concocted for Allison. I couldn’t exactly say I’d joined up with the woman who apparently slept with her boyfriend.”
“You actually kept my cover. I’m touched. I was pretty sure you hated me.”
“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for my friend. Scott is happy with Allison, despite how he got her back. I couldn’t have that ruined. I don’t really care about your cover.”
She played with her napkin, picking it up and dropping it again. “Still. You saved me from having to give him a refund. Thank you.”
Her last two words hung in the air, so thick I could almost pluck at them. She’d actually thanked me for something.
“You’re welcome,” I said. “And thank you for taking me on as a client and trying to help me get my business off the ground.”
“Now, now, let’s not get mushy. We aren’t about to hug or anything, okay?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. You know, unless I was stranded in the desert and needed something cold to cling to.”
The insult somehow released the tension that had entered our table when she’d thanked me. Her mouth curved into a half smile as the server returned to us.
“Will you be having dessert tonight?”
I held my hand out to Veronica. “Will we?”
“No, thank you. The bill, please.”
The server nodded and disappeared around a corner.
“Let me guess,” I said. “We always leave before dessert to prove we have more important places to be.”
She nodded as our server dropped the bill on the table. “Very good. There might be some hope for you after all.”
As she placed a wad of cash in the billfold, I feigned tipping a cap and spoke in an overdone British accent. “Why thank you, Mr. Higgins.” When she didn’t react, I flopped back in my seat. “Seriously. My Fair Lady. Watch it. You may even learn a thing or two.”
I walked her to her car and said good night. She mentioned she would be in touch when she’d gotten us a meeting with an investor.
“We’ll start small,” she said. “More for practice than anything. Even getting the word out helps.”
I left her in her car and started toward the Metro. She’d talked fast about looking through her contacts and finding the right one, but I’d caught a glimpse of her phone as she typed into it furiously.
She’d Googled My Fair Lady.
Veronica
The man beside me was worth twenty million at least, but I couldn’t stop noticing how the lights of the restaurant reflected off his bald spot like a halo. Arnold Carson was a tall, thin man with graying hair, a pointed nose that overtook his face, and pink-tinged cheeks. Despite his somewhat unassuming appearance, he held prime real estate in my contact list. He owned a series of hotels regularly visited by celebrities and politicians. And he had a weakness for redheads.
I scratched at the wig on my scalp and glanced at the door. If Bax was late for this meeting, I would have to have a serious talk with him about getting a car. I could’ve picked him up, but I wanted a few moments with Arnold before Bax got there, to soften him up.
Of course, there was no way in hell a man who fed and sheltered the world’s elite would have any interest in helping the poor, but he would be good practice for my client.
Sitting back in the booth, I tried not to shove Arnold’s sweaty palm off my leg. His wedding ring glinted as his fingers ran up and down my thigh, leaving a damp trail in their wake.
I’d met Arnold at a party at one of his hotels a few years before. Although I’d been there with a client who’d hoped to use me to catch the eye of his crush, I’d actually caught Arnold’s eye as well. He’d invited me to the presidential suite for a private party. After seeing my client off with the object of his affection, I’d accepted Arnold’s invitation and proceeded to lose myself in champagne and promises of jewels and Italian villas.
After a few weeks of fun together, those promises eventually b
ecame maybes, and he moved on to other women and I to other men. But I knew Arnold would come when I called—especially if I wore the red wig I’d had on the night we met.
“I must admit, Maggie,” Arnold said, the sweet scent of rum wafting from his mouth, “I’m disappointed this isn’t going to be just you and me. I’ve missed you.”
His hand disappeared beneath my skirt.
“Oh come on now, Arnie, don’t you have that new wife at home? What is she, twenty-two? I’m sure she keeps you plenty occupied.”
I gently removed his hand and placed it on his own leg. In the past, I might’ve let him linger, but with Bax showing up any moment, I didn’t want him to catch us that way. This meeting would be all business.
Going to dinner with him last week had changed things. He was cute, despite the lack of income and the annoying martyr routine. And he made me laugh, which even I had to admit was a feat in itself. Plus, there was the way he’d talked about his fiancée leaving him. Beneath the wisecracks, the guy hurt. Of course, my feelings for him didn’t extend beyond the fact that he was my client, but he didn’t totally disgust me anymore. And I kind of hated him all the more for it.
As if on cue, the door opened and Bax lumbered in, shading his eyes as he scanned the restaurant for us. I’d texted him the details, including the fact that I’d be a redhead named Maggie. He did a double take when he spotted me, but caught himself before coming over.
“Maggie, nice to see you again,” he said. Good boy. He’d remembered. He stuck his hand out to Arnold. “Mr. Carson, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Baxter Linton.”
Arnold grunted and shook Bax’s hand for the briefest of seconds. “A friend of Maggie’s is a friend of mine. Have a seat, son.”
The midday sun cut a line of yellow across our table. This restaurant was smaller than the one I’d taken Bax to the other night. Definitely more business than romance. Rook’s resembled a chessboard, with white walls and floors and black tablecloths. Fresh flowers that were changed daily gave a pop of color to each table.
I’d arranged a lunch meeting in the hopes Bax would feel less pressure. Lunch always seemed far more casual. And seeing how Arnold was on his third rum and Coke, Bax might actually have a shot.
A chubby waitress with round cheeks stopped at our table. “I see your entire party is here now. My name is Karryn, and I’ll be taking care of you today. Can I get you a drink, sir?”
“Whiskey,” Bax said. “The best you’ve got. Neat.”
I shot him an appreciative glance. He actually knew how to order a proper drink. “Same for me, thank you,” I said.
The waitress nodded. “Would you like to hear today’s specials?”
“No thanks, Karryn.” Bax studied the leather-bound menu on the table. “Just another moment with the menus would be lovely.”
I bit my lip to stop myself from grinning. The man could be taught.
Bax caught me staring and gave me that know-it-all smirk that drove me nuts. And just like that, the frustration returned. He was like a gnat that wouldn’t stop buzzing around my head. Just when you thought it had given up, it landed on your perfectly good food.
“So.” Arnold laid an arm behind my chair. “Maggie here says you have some sort of proposition for me. Normally, I wouldn’t bother, but Mags has a special place in my heart.”
By heart, he meant pants—as evidenced by the obvious bulge between his legs as he stroked my bare back. I’d worn the rose-colored backless dress for him. He’d barely taken his eyes off my skin, and every time I moved, he followed the fabric as it loosened near the side of my breasts, giving him just a glimpse of what lay beneath.
Bax watched Arnold’s fingers as they lingered on my shoulders. “Well, sir, I’m sure you recognize how bad the homeless situation is, not only in our city, but all over the world . . .”
He launched into the speech I’d approved, and I took the opportunity to zone out. Our drinks arrived, and I broke my own rule by sipping the golden liquid. For his part, Bax finished his drink, too. Not only did he know how to order my favorite drink, he could endure it without so much as a cough. Maybe he was tougher than I thought.
The waitress came to take our food orders, and Bax stopped his speech to order the lobster bisque. I asked for the same, and another whiskey for us both.
Arnold played the part of the good listener. He never interrupted, even though his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. His fingers dipped below the low back of my dress; I refrained from leaning back and smashing them against the seat. The only reason I didn’t was my contract with Bax. He deserved at least a bit of a shot here. And the sooner he got his deal, the sooner I could move on with my life.
“This blanket will be useful in so many ways,” Bax continued. “Not only can it keep someone warm in the dead of winter . . .”
I drifted away from the conversation again and pulled my phone out of my purse to check my texts. An old client had sent a message asking if I was free tonight. He needed me again, and he was willing to pay a pretty penny to get me there. While I didn’t usually do two jobs at once, the fact that he only needed me for one night and the sheer number of zeros on the figure he’d typed meant I couldn’t say no. I sent him a quick confirmation I’d be there, then thumbed through my notes to remind myself of his case.
His name was Francesco Stribani. Rich, married, with a wife who’d lost interest in anything beyond his money. He’d thought bringing a hot new coworker home would make her jealous. And it had. Maybe she just needed another reminder. My name for the night would be Sarah, and I’d have to wear my wig of curly brown hair.
Sure, it would’ve been simple to use the same name for every job to avoid confusion. But different names and different looks helped me get into character. Sarah and Maggie weren’t even close to the same person. Maggie was fiery, like her hair, and Sarah mousy, like hers. Bax was the first client to know my real name, and it made me itch.
I studied him across the table as he toyed with his lobster bisque like I’d taught him. A piece of his hair had fallen onto his forehead, and I curled my fingers to stop myself from reaching across the table and pushing it back.
To his credit, Bax had this easiness about him that made people open up to him. And, somehow, he’d used that ability to pull details about my life from me. I’d watched the My Fair Lady movie at his recommendation, and although theirs hadn’t turned into a romantic relationship, Henry Higgins had come to like Eliza and her foibles. In fact, she’d taught him almost as much as—if not more than—he’d taught her. But what the hell did Bax have to teach me? How to do groceries on a budget? Coupon clipping? No thanks.
“ . . . what do you think?” Arnold nudged me. “Maggie?”
The two men stared at me, and I realized I had no idea what they’d asked. “Sorry, Arnie, dear. The whiskey has gone to my head. What was that?”
“He wanted to know what you thought of the blankets,” Bax said, his voice edged with anger. “If you’d been paying attention, you’d know that.”
“Oh.” I shot him a dirty look and then turned to Arnold, giving him a smile that was so sweet it almost gave me cavities. “Well, I think they are adorable. And very warm and . . . uh . . . cozier than they look.”
“You’ve tried one?” Arnold asked.
“Well, no. I mean, I don’t need that dirty thing on me. But it looks warm enough.”
Bax took a gulp of his drink and coughed. The spray catapulted across the table, puddling on Arnold’s Prada suit jacket.
“Oh my God.” Bax grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the stains. “I’m so sorry. I was just taken by surprise. My partner mentioned loving the product. I forgot she hadn’t tried it yet.”
Arnold pulled his arm away from Bax and sighed. “Look, son. It’s an interesting idea. And good for you for trying to do something new. But this isn’t really my area of expertise. I’m all about shelter
ing the rich, not the poor.”
“I know,” Bax said. “But imagine what this could do for your reputation. You’d be known as a man who gives to both sides.”
“What do you think, Mags?” Arnold splayed a wide palm on my shoulder. “It was your idea to meet with this young man. I trust your judgment. Of course, I also miss your company. This would mean I’d get to spend more time with you, too, right?”
He slid his hand all the way up my thigh, under my dress, and pressed between my legs. His fingers were pruned and freezing from cradling the rum and Coke with ice. I yelped, and he gave a satisfied smirk. Swallowing back the shot of whiskey that crept up my throat with a bitter burn, I reminded myself this would all be worth it when Bax got his deal and I got to move on with my life.
“Of course,” I purred. “You know that, Arnie dear.”
Across from us, Bax let out a hiss. “You know what. I changed my mind. I don’t want to make any more negotiations with you.” He jumped up from the table so fast he knocked over Arnold’s rum and Coke. The syrup and ice tumbled into the millionaire’s lap, drenching his thighs, and putting out the obvious fire that had been building between them.
I hopped out of my seat to avoid the splash. Bax was already halfway to the door, loosening his tie as he went.
“Maggie. What the hell?” Arnold wiped at his pants with a napkin. “This is the kind of meeting you drag me to? I set aside some important appointments for this.”
“I’m so sorry, Arnie. I’m not sure what happened. I’ll go talk to him.”
“You do what you have to,” Arnold said, still patting at the brown stains on the fine Italian fabric. “But don’t you dare bring him back here. There is definitely no deal.”
“Right. Of course. I understand. I’m sorry, again.”
I grabbed my purse and wrap and ran after Bax as fast as my Gucci stilettos would allow. He stood on the side of the road with his arm out, trying to hail a cab. His face was flushed with more than the cold, and the muscles in his jaw ticked.
“Bax! What’s wrong with you? You spilled soda all over one of the most powerful men in the city and you didn’t even apologize!”
Dealing in Deception Page 7
