“Yeah, really. Mrs. Brooks is our best client. Besides,” he added as a small afterthought, “we don’t have any other candidates.”
I was elated! I didn’t care why or how I’d gotten the job, but I truly thought I might enjoy it. I thanked him and, just like that, he and Phoebe welcomed me aboard.
I spent most of the day watching the two of them work and familiarizing myself with the supplies. As I fussed around them, watching how they snapped and trimmed, sprayed and moussed, I began to feel as if this hairdresser thing might not be so difficult after all.
Having had long hair for as long as I could remember, I was fond of experimenting with new hairdos, and I was always on the lookout for the latest trends in fashion and hair styling. As the day went on, I started to move efficiently around the salon, bobbing my head in the rhythm of the pop music that played in the background.
Around five, Gabriel told me I could head out, after I helped Phoebe clean the place. It was still very hot outside. When I opened the door to my car, a blast of even hotter air hit me. I drove home with a smile on my face. I couldn’t believe it. A day had passed, I had a new job and I hadn’t screwed up yet. When you’re persona non grata in the market place, you start to become grateful for the smallest victories.
When I arrived home, Fish was waiting for me, looking as though he was begging for food. He wolfed down the granules I gave him, then swam around the bowl a few times to check if there was anything left. I decided it was time to change his water. He seemed agitated and reproachful as I proceeded to do just that, scooping up the dirty water with an empty yogurt carton, then replacing it with clean water. By the time I finished, he had withdrawn to his toy castle, furiously sweeping water with his fins, which didn’t quite fit inside.
I went to the kitchen and fixed myself an omelet and a tomato salad. After I ate, I sat on the living room sofa and turned my laptop on. An email popped on my screen when I checked my inbox. It proved to be from a Miss Simone, who kindly asked me to contact her, as she had very important business for me. I marked it as spam and accessed my Facebook account. My heart gave a little jolt when I saw I had a message from Carter. It read, How about dinner tonight?
I did a little happy dance in my mind—as my body was too tired—and typed, Dinner? As in a date?
He appeared to be offline, but after a few moments a new message came from him. Yes, as in a date.
My happy dance was now a mean salsa and I rubbed my hands together, grinning idiotically.
Okay. What time?
I’ll pick you up at eight. How does that sound?
I sent him a thumbs up sticker. Suddenly, I was reenergized.
Chapter Ten
I had more than an hour to get ready. I stretched out on the sofa, mentally revising my wardrobe. Should I dress casually or aim to be a knockout? The latter, definitely the latter. If I wanted to help Carter get over his wife, I needed to take out the heavy artillery.
Would this be a triple F date? Food, fun, and … fireworks. The kind of fireworks I had in mind were those that exploded internally. It had been a long time since I’d had any kind of action between the sheets. But would Carter be interested in fireworks? Considering the kisses we’d shared, I thought he might be.
I sat up and marched into the bathroom. I bunched my hair under a shower cap and took a quick shower. Afterwards, I massaged scented lotion all over my body.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Was I wrong to think about having sex with Carter? We barely knew each other. We’d seen one another three times—the day he helped me up in the park, the casual drink on the patio the night he’d driven me home, and the mind-blowing kisses yesterday. None of those had been dates, but I wasn’t sure how to qualify the consoling visit that had ended with me in his arms, his lips glued to mine.
I frowned. Was it too soon for us to have sex? Usually, I was Miss Prim and Proper, but somehow it didn’t feel too soon to make love to a man who made me feel like no one else ever had. In the past, I’d gone out for months with my former boyfriends before we’d become lovers.
I’d never been one to have sex with a virtual stranger—the one night stands I’d read about in so many of the books Corinne recommended—nor had I ever slept with a guy on our first date, although I thought Carrie might have. Technically, for Carter and me, this was our first date, and while I knew lots about him, there was so much more that I didn’t. As usual, I was getting ahead of myself. I would let the night play out and see where it led, and if that was to bed, well then the Fates had spoken. I was just nudging them my way.
I brushed my hair, letting it flow down my back and shoulders. Wearing only my lace panties, I strutted to the closet and checked out my selection. Carrie had my black lace, so that was out of the question. I pulled out dress after dress—too bold, too prim, too warm for the weather—you know the drill.
Finally, I opted for a red, backless dress that gloved my body, clinging to every curve. Thin halter straps, tied at the base of the neck, held the dress in place. I couldn’t wear a bra with it, but the material was thick enough to keep me decent. In the dim evening light, no one would notice the subtle hint of nipples beneath it, which would increase if the night air cooled. Dangerous? Maybe, but I wanted to make a lasting impression.
I applied makeup, accentuating my eyes with dark eye shadow and mascara, then added blusher and red lipstick. A critical glance in the mirror confirmed I looked memorable. It had been a long time since I’d taken such pains with my appearance and forgot how good it felt to look my best. I hoped Carter would be impressed when he saw me.
When I slipped on the sassy red bracelet watch I’d gotten for Christmas last year, I saw that it was a quarter to eight. I donned red high heeled sandals and was just trying to fit my wallet into my red evening bag, when the doorbell rang. Snapping the bag shut, I took a deep breath and went to open the door.
For what seemed an eternity, we stared at one another. Judging by the way his gaze moved over me, Carter was as impressed with my appearance as I was with his. Like me, he’d gone all out and looked magnificent.
The black slacks fit him perfectly. I made a colossal effort not to stare at the impressive bulge of his crotch. I could just glimpse the shadow of his nipples through the fitted, white cotton shirt that molded his torso. The first button was undone, revealing a tanned patch of skin, and hinted at the hair on his chest.
“Wow!” He grinned.
That single heartfelt word had more impact than any of the elaborate compliments I’d ever received. My cheeks burned in delight.
“Ditto,” I said, hoping he heard my sincerity.
“Shall we go?”
I locked my apartment door and shoved my keys into my tiny evening bag.
“Where are we going?” I asked once the elevator began to move.
He named a restaurant I’d heard of but had never visited. The supper club was considered the classiest dining establishment in Jersey City. I raised one eyebrow.
“I took the liberty of making a reservation earlier,” he admitted.
“You were that sure I would say yes?” I teased, knowing I would’ve said yes to a visit to the garbage dump had he asked.
His bold gaze held mine captive. Eventually, he took my hand and slowly lifted it to his lips.
“I hoped you would say yes,” he whispered.
When his mouth touched my skin, a million electric volts ran through me, starting at the tip of my fingers, then running down to my toes, and everywhere in-between. Trapped in his gaze, I didn’t realize the elevator had stopped until the doors opened. Suddenly, we were face to face with my neighbor, Bernie.
He took one look at me and Carter, and his bushy eyebrows rose beyond his nonexistent hairline.
“So, this is why you’re too busy to come over and watch BBC with me,” he said. “You have a boyfriend! This I should mark on my calendar. But, if it doesn’t work out, you know where to find me.”
“Seriously, Bernie?” I mutt
ered through clenched teeth and grabbed Carter’s hand, stalking past Bernie and his indecent proposal.
“BBC?” Carter asked curiously. “You don’t like watching the news?”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t—too depressing—but Bernie wasn’t referring to the news.”
“Then what?”
I let out a long breath while he opened the passenger door to his car. Once he’d moved around and slipped into the driver seat, I told him about Bernie’s favorite pastime and about the new porn star the old man had discovered. By the time I finished, Carter was laughing so hard that he had to prop his head against the steering wheel and hold onto his stomach.
Eventually, when he was able to speak, he glanced at me sideways.
“So, you didn’t want to see BBC in action?”
“No.”
“Weren’t you curious?”
My cheeks burned. Here we were discussing porn and the night hadn’t even started.
“I’m not into that kind of thing,” I said primly, smoothing my dress. I stole a glance back at him. “Are you ... I mean, do you watch that kind of ... entertainment?”
A mischievous glint in his eyes accompanied his half grin.
“I’ll tell you once we get to know each other better.”
I swallowed hard as he started the engine. Had I screwed up again? Was he some kind of kinky pervert? Suddenly, I wasn’t sure of anything.
The restaurant was on the top floor of one of Jersey City’s tallest buildings. From here, we had an incredible view of downtown Manhattan just across the Hudson River, the water sparkling like liquid silver.
A pinch-nosed waiter led us to our table on the outside terrace, where the soft lights and smooth jazz added to the intimate atmosphere. Carter held the chair for me before he sat at the round table, where a red candle in a hurricane lamp flickered, creating a lovely contrast with the impeccably white tablecloth.
“Fancy,” I remarked as I studied the menu. “Have you been here before?
“I have, but not in a very long time.”
I imagined he used to bring his wife here. His tone hadn’t been wistful or sad when he’d spoken, and that gave me hope. Perhaps tonight she wouldn’t be between us. Maybe his pain had dulled enough to let him enjoy my company. I decided to be as entertaining as I could be. There might not be any fireworks, but I was going to make sure we both had a great time.
“I started another job today,” I announced brightly.
His gaze was a mix of wariness and amusement.
“Really? What job?”
“At a hair salon. There was a job opening and I decided I should have a backup in case your boss didn’t like the idea of having me on staff at the newspaper.”
“Oh, I think he’ll be fine with it,” Carter said smiling.
The waiter returned with a bottle of red wine, which he poured into two glasses. “What would you like to eat?”
I ordered Chicken Alfredo and a salad. Carter requested some kind of fish, accompanied by rice.
“I would’ve expected you to order steak,” I said after the waiter left.
“I like fish. Besides, people who eat fish are smarter. Look at the Japanese.”
I tried to decide if he was making fun of me, but his expression was serious.
“How do you know all this stuff?”
He gave a soft laugh.
“Research. I’m a journalist, remember?”
“But you write about crime,” I argued.
His eyebrows arched. “You’ve read my articles?”
I looked up at the pale moon just making its shy appearance in the darkening sky.
“I’ve stumbled on one or two,” I lied. “It’s hard to avoid them when they’re splashed all over the front page.”
He chuckled. “One tries. Above the fold is always best, but hey, anyplace on the front page is fine with me. So, how’s the new job? Any disasters so far?”
“Please don’t jinx it,” I begged and laughed. “I’m an assistant hairdresser. Right now, I’m learning my way around. It’s sort of like assisting a surgeon, passing them tweezers, scalpels, sponges, and whatever else they use, only in my case it’s mousse, gel, curling irons, or electric brushes. So far, I like it.”
“That’s great. Then we should celebrate your victory,” he said, lifting his glass.
I clinked mine against his. “To new jobs and opportunities.”
“To new. Just new,” he added meaningfully, raising the glass to his lips.
When the food arrived, my stomach grumbled in anticipation. The chicken was delicious, so tasty it almost melted in my mouth. The pasta was al dente, just the way I liked it, and the sauce superb with the perfect amount of garlic, parmesan and cream.
“How’s your fish?” Using my fork, I indicated his plate.
“Fantastic. Want to try it?”
I glanced dubiously at his entree, but it was well plated and did look delicious. I nodded. Carter forked a piece of the flaky white fish and stretched his arm across the table to feed me. As I closed my lips around the offering, our eyes met. I could easily imagine closing my lips around something else.
Carter seemed to read my mind. There was a wicked, naughty glint in his eyes as he focused on his fork trapped between my lips.
“Good?” he asked.
I nodded, tearing my gaze away from his and lowering my eyes to my plate. How pink were my cheeks? They were on fire.
Releasing his fork and swallowing, I smiled.
“I usually don’t like fish. When I was little my mom cooked only herring. There were more bones in them than in a cemetery.”
He chuckled and cut into his food. “Boned fish can be tricky to eat, but at least it’s tender and easy to cut with these dull knives.”
“Oh, don’t you just hate restaurant knives? They’re so blunt, the best you can do is tear your food apart with them. I swear, they should never be described as sharp objects. The forks are far more lethal.”
The food was so good, we focused on it, eating silently for a few minutes until I recalled something I’d wanted to ask him.
“Are you still working on the Jack Doleman disappearance? Have the police found any evidence that could point to a kidnapping? That was the theory I read.”
Carter nodded. “His wife admitted receiving a ransom demand for two million dollars in exchange for his safe release. She doesn’t seem interested in paying it or in her husband’s safety. She contacted the police, although the note warned her not to. I don’t think she’s too fond of the man. Rumor has it he liked to fool around.”
I sipped my wine. “I suppose it never occurred to him that one day his life would depend on her good graces. Do the police have any leads?”
Carter shook his head. “Nothing so far. I was planning to talk to the wife myself, see if I could get her to explain her lack of concern for the man she married. Maybe she knows more than she’s divulged to the police. Would you like to come with me?”
“Sure. But what can I do to help?”
He shrugged noncommittally. “You’re a woman for one thing. She might be more inclined to open up to you than to me. If that approach doesn’t work, maybe you can dazzle her with some legal BS to make her more cooperative. Stuff like the less she talks, the more likely it is the police will think she’s in on it, and that by refusing to tell her side of the story, she’s incriminating herself. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
I was astonished at his incredible confidence in me. I’d never had that kind of confidence in myself. Not even my parents would go that far.
“You do realize that applies to refusing to cooperate with the police, not the Press?”
“I know, but maybe she won’t.”
A thought struck me. “Do you think she might be involved in the kidnapping?”
Carter spread his hands wide. “Anything is possible. She’s the first person the police suspected, but she has an ironclad alibi. Of course, that doesn’t mean she couldn’t be invol
ved and have someone else do the dirty work. Think about it. The kidnappers demand she pay two million dollars. She refuses, and hubby turns up floating in the Hudson. Cheap way to get rid of a husband and stay above suspicion.”
“And she had an alibi,” I finished. “You know, most innocent people never do. You just don’t think things like, ‘I’m home alone tonight. What happens if I need an alibi?’ This case is really interesting. I can understand why you love your job so much. It’s like solving puzzles.”
“Yeah, sort of. What about you? If you could have any job in the world, what would you do?”
I licked my spoon thoughtfully, letting the spumoni ice cream I’d ordered for dessert melt on my tongue.
“I don’t know. When I lost my job at Finch & Associates, I realized I was at a crossroads. I enjoy the law, but can’t see myself standing in front of a judge defending someone I know is guilty. Working as a paralegal was interesting, but the hours were long, although I enjoyed the research and writing up briefs and depositions. I’ve thought about writing a book, and my sister’s suggested standup comedy, but I just don’t have a clue as to what I really want. I don’t seem to have a passion for anything—a vocation of any sort other than screwing up and getting into trouble,” I added gloomily.
Carter looked at me, compassion and amused indulgence on his face.
“Everyone has a special talent for something, what you call a passion or vocation. You just haven’t discovered yours yet,” he said gently. “You’re young and have plenty of time to experiment and try new things. You don’t have to decide what to do with the rest of your life tonight.”
I smiled, warmed and touched by his words, and by the wisdom in them. The DJ was back and the sounds of Lady Antebellum’s “Need You Now” filled the air.
“I love this song,” I exclaimed.
“Then dance with me.” He rose, taking my hand in his.
The dance floor wasn’t crowded. A few couples tangled together, moving idly. Although the rhythm of the music was soothing, my heart pumped madly as I wrapped my hands around Carter’s neck. He encircled my waist with his arms, drawing me closer to him. His body heat, masculine scent, and nearness made me dizzy with desire as we spun in slow, sinuous circles, gazes locked hypnotically.
Sacked! Page 10
