by Dawn Atkins
Jealousy twisted in his gut like a claw. A quick look assured him that she was completely surrounded by women. He recognized Sierra first, then her sisters, and two other women he’d met at Ryder’s engagement party a week ago. Only then did the twisting in his gut ease.
How long had he been staring at her? He knew it had likely only been for a moment. But she was looking at him as if he were something smeared on a slide. Did she recognize him?
No. The disguise was good. Rad hadn’t penetrated it close-up, so surely she couldn’t have from a distance.
Slowly, Jed shifted his gaze back to the reservation desk. Gage stood at one side talking to Rad. Keep your mind on business, Jed reminded himself. If everything went as planned, Gage would join him at the table, hand over an envelope with the floor plan of Bailey Montgomery’s office building, and any other information Ryder might need. Then they would have a friendly drink together and each go their separate ways.
But Gage didn’t come toward the table. Instead, he made his way into the crowded bar. Jed’s hand fisted in his lap. Something was definitely wrong.
7
“ZOË?”
With a little start, Zoë blinked and shifted her gaze to Sierra who sat on the bar stool next to hers. “What?”
Sierra leaned close and pitched her voice to be heard over the din of conversation bombarding them from all sides. “George asked if you want more wine.”
It was only then that Zoë noticed that the bartender was holding a bottle over her nearly empty glass.
“I know you have a preference for crisp white wines, and this one is a very good vintage,” George said.
“No, thanks.” Zoë tried to gather her thoughts.
“You all right?” Sierra asked when George moved away. “You were a thousand miles away.”
“I’m fine,” Zoë said. But she hadn’t been a thousand miles away. She’d just been totally focused on a man who sat at a table in the main dining room only a few yards away.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring at him before Sierra had pulled her attention back. She’d noticed him earlier when he’d been talking to Rad, the Blue Pepper’s other owner, at the reservation desk, and she’d felt a strange sort of recognition—as if she’d met him before. Her first thought was that he’d been one of the many single men she’d interviewed when she’d been collecting data for Sierra’s study.
But she would have remembered him. Just looking at him had a lick of lust moving through her. Sexy and elegant were the words that had come to mind as she’d watched the stranger follow Rad to the table. The purposeful way he moved in the impeccably tailored suit reminded her a little of the image she’d created in her mind of Lucifer—all that easy sophistication on the outside that didn’t quite mask the aura of danger beneath.
She’d sensed a similar contrast in Jed. Although he could in no way be described as elegant on the outside. No. Jed had rough edges, and this man epitomized the word smooth. But Jed Calhoun definitely had that same hint of danger hiding beneath the beach boy façade.
In a sense, the two men were very like Lucifer in that respect. Lucifer. How interesting, she thought suddenly. After spending six months filling her notebooks with fantasies about the superspy, she hadn’t spared him more than a passing thought since she’d met Jed Calhoun.
Then she noticed another similarity between Jed and the stranger. Glasses aside, in profile, they both had the same strong chin, straight nose and the kind of cheekbones that one saw on a warrior’s face.
She lifted her wineglass and finished the last swallow. Zoë was dimly aware of the separate conversations going on behind her. When they’d arrived at the Blue Pepper, they’d been joined by two of the Gibbs sisters’ friends, Sophie McBride and Mac Wainwright.
Sierra and Mac, who both taught at Georgetown, were talking about faculty politics while Sophie Wainwright was telling Natalie and Rory Gibbs all about the latest art pieces that had arrived in her antique shop. Zoë knew she should turn and join in one of the conversations, but for some reason, she couldn’t seem to pull either her mind or her gaze away from the stranger at the table.
When he turned slowly just then and met her gaze, Zoë felt that same little shock of recognition she’d felt when she’d first seen him. This time it was so intense that her mind drained of all thought. At the same time, she could feel her whole body become aware of him. It was almost as if he’d touched her and sparked a little flame deep inside of her. For an instant, everything around her—the conversations, the music from the patio, even the people lined up three deep around the bar—faded. She could have sworn that she and the stranger were totally alone in the restaurant.
“Zoë?”
From very far away, Zoë could hear someone calling her name.
“Zoë, are you sure you’re all right?”
Zoë tried to focus, but it wasn’t until the man glanced away that she could turn to face Sierra again.
“I’m fine,” she managed. But she wasn’t fine. Her skin felt icy and hot at the same time. She leaned closer to Sierra. “Look at that man over there at the table near the railing.”
Sierra shifted her gaze. “Handsome.” Then she grinned and nudged her elbow into Zoë’s arm. “Zoë McNamara, you’re actually ogling a man!”
“Of course, she is,” Rory said, moving closer. “Wearing the right kind of lingerie can change your whole attitude toward men.”
“I’m not ogling,” Zoë protested. “Exactly.” But wasn’t that exactly what she was doing? And she didn’t think that it had anything to do with the sexy red lace panties that Rory had insisted she wear under the borrowed jeans and the lacy camisole top. She was afraid the ogling had everything to do with the man.
“Where is he?” Rory asked.
“Over there at the table near the railing.” Zoë moved her head in the stranger’s direction. She didn’t want to point. “Doesn’t he remind you of someone?”
Sierra studied him for a moment. “James Bond—the one played by Pierce Brosnan.”
“I don’t mean a movie star. I’m thinking of a real person,” Zoë said.
“Haven’t a clue.” Sierra shifted her gaze to her sisters and their friends. “Look at the man sitting at the table near the railing. Zoë wants to know who he reminds you of.”
All of the women studied him for a moment.
“I don’t know,” Natalie said. “But those glasses look sexy on him.”
“Definitely,” Sierra said.
Zoë never quite got used to how pretty Sierra’s sisters were and how different. Natalie, the oldest, was a redhead and a D.C. cop.
“I vote for the guy who plays the father on The OC.” Rory, the middle sister, was short, dark-haired, and a freelance writer.
“Peter Gallagher,” Sierra said. “Yes, I can see the resemblance in the cheekbones, but the man we’re ogling has a firmer jawline. I still vote for James Bond.”
“I say Mark Wahlberg,” Sophie said. “He’s hot.”
“Mark or this guy?” Natalie asked.
“Both,” Rory and Sophie answered in unison.
“I’m thinking of someone who’s not a movie star,” Zoë said.
“Okay.” Mac studied him for a minute. “In profile, especially in the nose and the jawline, I think he looks a bit like Ryder’s friend, Jed Calhoun.”
“No,” Sierra said. “He’s too…stiff. Look at that posture.”
“You’re right about the posture, but I think he looks a little like Jed, too,” Zoë said. And she was hoping that the resemblance was what had triggered her intense reaction to the man. “Every one of us is supposed to have a twin somewhere in the world. Maybe that man is Jed Calhoun’s.”
Sierra shot her an amused look. “I think that you have Jed Calhoun on the brain.”
Suddenly the four other women shifted their gazes to her. Zoë felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “No, it’s not that. I really think this man looks like Jed.”
“Right,” Natalie said, patting her should
er. “I found that when I was first besotted with Chance, I saw him everywhere, too. Sounds like you’ve got it bad, Zoë.”
“We’ve all gone through this,” Sophie added. “If you want any advice, just ask one of us.”
“I don’t—it’s not that…I just…I’m not…”
Rad appeared behind Natalie and thankfully interrupted Zoë in midbabble. “Your table is ready, ladies. Right this way.”
As they fell in line to follow Rad to the patio, they passed right under the man’s table. She didn’t glance up, but she felt his gaze on her, and the flame that she’d felt earlier grew hotter. It wasn’t until she reached the short flight of stairs that led to the patio that Zoë risked another look at the stranger who reminded her of Jed Calhoun.
He was different from Jed. The dark hair was a bit shorter than the way Jed wore his, and it fell over his forehead. Zoë caught the wink of a diamond on his right pinkie as he lifted his water glass. She couldn’t imagine Jed Calhoun ever wearing a pinkie ring. Mr. Elegant had money, she surmised. The glasses also gave him a studious air that Jed Calhoun certainly didn’t—
Just then she stumbled, bumped into Sierra and nearly had them both tumbling down the stairs.
“Sorry,” she mumbled as she grabbed Sierra’s arm and steadied them both. “Good thing I didn’t have that second glass of wine.”
But it wasn’t wine that was making her legs feel so rubbery. It was that man. She was attracted to him. How could she be when for the past two days she’d thought of no one but Jed Calhoun?
JED LET OUT A BREATH he wasn’t even aware he’d been holding when he saw Zoë follow Rad and her friends out onto the patio. The last thing he needed right now was a distraction. And Zoë McNamara was definitely that. Just being in the same room with her was affecting him so much that he wasn’t keeping his mind on business.
He relaxed his grip on his martini glass, lifted it and took a sip. As he pretended to savor the taste of the British gin he’d requested from the waiter, he let his gaze roam the restaurant. There had to be a reason why Gage hadn’t asked Rad to bring him directly to the table.
His old friend was currently moving through the crowd in the bar looking for all the world as if he were searching for someone. Had Gage been followed? By whom? Whoever it was would have to be good because Gage would have taken precautions.
Was Gage merely being cautious? Or was he silently communicating a message? Jed let his own gaze slowly sweep the crowd standing elbow to elbow in the bar area. As Gage finessed his way into one of the seats that Sierra and Zoë had occupied earlier, Jed retraced the path that Gage had woven through the crowd. It wasn’t until he’d let his gaze sweep the area for a second time that he spotted her.
Bailey Montgomery was standing at the other end of the bar at the very edge of a group of Georgetown students, and she was deep in conversation with one of them. He’d missed her the first time because she could have passed for an instructor or a grad student in the casual jeans and T-shirt she was wearing. Her hair was loose and she was wearing glasses. It was a thin disguise, but effective. He hadn’t spotted her himself, and he should have.
The last time he’d seen her in that alley in Bogotá, she hadn’t been wearing the glasses and her hair had been tied back. But her profile was the same, and it would be forever imprinted on his mind. The alley had been illuminated only by a spill of light from a streetlamp. But there had been enough so that he’d seen her silhouetted when she’d turned her head. She’d had her fingers pressed against the pulse in his neck. She’d known that he wasn’t dead, not yet at least, and she’d turned to talk to someone else, someone he couldn’t see—the marksman who’d pulled the trigger? Was she going to ask for another shot? Her face in profile was the last thing he’d seen before he’d mercifully blacked out.
Jed’s mind raced. What was she doing here? He dismissed the coincidence of her just happening to be at the Blue Pepper. Had she followed Gage or had she somehow discovered they were meeting here? And how many people had she brought with her?
The vibration of his cell phone interrupted Jed’s thoughts. He reached for it and put it against his ear.
“Change of plans,” Gage said.
Thanks to Ryder, Jed knew his cell phone was as secure as technology currently allowed, and he could be pretty sure about Gage’s. Obviously, Gage had considered it necessary to risk using this means of communication. For a few seconds, he reviewed his options. A meeting with Gage was out. Bailey knew Gage and she might be watching him. Finally, he said, “Let’s try some sleight of hand.”
“Listening.”
“Put my name on what you brought, pass it to the bartender, and tell him to make sure that it’s delivered to Zoë McNamara along with a complimentary bottle of wine. He’ll know who she is.”
“Okey-dokey,” Gage said and disconnected.
Jed continued to hold the cell phone to his ear. One of the things he’d liked most about working with Gage in the past was that he was a man of few words—there’d been no questions, no suggestions. It had been the same on the two missions that they’d worked on together. A man couldn’t wish for a better partner than Gage Sinclair. On top of that, Gage had very good eyes. He must have spotted Bailey the moment he’d walked in the door.
But Jed should have spotted Bailey Montgomery himself. All he’d done was feel Zoë’s eyes on him. And now he’d drawn her into the picture. Gage’s information would be safe with her, and Jed had no doubt that she would get it to him as soon as she could. The problem was would she be safe as long as it was in her possession?
And how long would he have to wait for it? A ripple of frustration moved through him. Keeping his back to the bar, he took another sip of his martini. He waited ten full minutes before he glanced toward the bar again. Gage was glancing at his watch. He’d leave soon. Then it would be Bailey’s move. She was still talking to the young man she was standing next to. Would she follow Gage when he left or would she have someone else tail him?
For one long moment, Jed was tempted to walk right up to her and ask her why she’d “killed” him. But this wasn’t the time to be impulsive. He’d save that plan for another day.
Tonight, he would enjoy a dinner at the Blue Pepper and wait her out. Before he walked up to Bailey Montgomery, he wanted to know what was in her files.
“A GENTLEMAN AT THE BAR sends this to Zoë McNamara with his compliments.” Rad set a bottle of wine on the table and began to distribute glasses.
Zoë stared at the bottle.
“Zoë has a secret admirer,” Natalie said. “I’m betting it’s Mr. Sexy Glasses.”
“Way to go, Zoë,” Rory said. Then she leaned closer and whispered. “Sexy underwear will work its magic every time.”
“What did he look like?” Zoë asked Rad and then bit her lip. She wanted Natalie to be right. She wanted it to be the stranger at that table. And that was ridiculous.
“Every lady’s dream come true,” Rad replied as he poured wine into her glass. “Tall, dark, handsome—”
“Sure sounds like him, Zoë,” Natalie commented.
Zoë’s heart skipped a little beat, and she could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. What in the world was wrong with her? She didn’t want a perfect stranger to be sending her a bottle of wine, especially not that stranger. Not after the way he’d made her feel.
But she couldn’t deny that she’d been ogling the man—which was ridiculous. She had let Sierra talk her into a girls’ night out with the idea of getting Jed Calhoun out of her mind. Now she couldn’t get Mr. Elegant out of her mind. His image had engraved itself on her imagination, that lean body, the strong features. She could recall every detail of his face in profile—the strong chin, straight nose, the warrior’s cheekbones. And the glasses.
There was something about him…. If she could just put her finger on it, maybe she could stop thinking about him.
“Did he look like James Bond?” Sierra asked.
Rad filled the last glass. “Wh
ich one?”
“Good point. There’ve been how many?” Sophie asked.
“Five, but who’s counting,” Rory supplied. “My favorite’s Pierce Brosnan.”
“You should take Zoë over and introduce her,” Sierra said.
“I would, but he left about twenty minutes ago,” Rad explained. “George was told to hold up the order for a while.”
Zoë felt her heart sink. Why should she be feeling a sense of loss because a man she’d never met, never even talked to, had left twenty minutes ago? So what if she’d never gotten to meet him?
Making love with Jed Calhoun was supposed to get her life back on track, not turn her into someone who became irresistibly attracted to strangers. She’d begun to understand exactly what Pandora must have felt when she’d opened that box.
Zoë drew in a deep breath. She was just being ridiculous.
“We’re still not sure it was the James Bond man who sent these,” Natalie said. Turning to Rad, she continued, “What was the gentleman wearing?”
“It’s a good thing we have a cop at the table,” Rory said.
“I’m betting an impeccably designed suit and dark framed glasses,” Sierra said.
“Oh, you’re talking about the Brit,” Rad said with a smile. “Sexy accent, Italian shoes, and excellent taste in ties. He bought the one he’s wearing at Harrods. They don’t make ties like that in the States. And now that I think of it, they really should cast him as the next James Bond.”
“Told you so.” Sierra gave everyone a smug smile. “Sending a bottle of wine is just the kind of thing 007 would do.”
“Oh, the Brit didn’t send the wine,” Rad said as he placed an envelope in front of Zoë. “It was another man at the bar, and he asked George to see that you got this envelope, too.”
Zoë glanced down at the envelope and silently read the name printed neatly in the upper right hand corner.
“What is it?” Sierra asked, leaning closer.
Zoë frowned down at the envelope. “It’s not for me. It’s for Jed Calhoun.”
