Chapter 2
Two
The hangers screeched against the bare metal rod that served as a closet as Jal searched for something, anything, that would be considered elegant.
Jal dismissed hanger after hanger of cozy sweaters, brightly colored long skirts, and cotton sundresses, occasionally tossing a possibility behind her onto the bed.
At the end of the rack, she sighed and did a quick check back the other way before turning to her bed and the small, brightly colored pile on top of the cream comforter.
As she bent to smooth out a black knee-length dress, her phone began to ring from somewhere in the pile. Jal tossed dresses and blankets aside until she unearthed it, answering just in time. “Hey, girl.”
Elena returned the greeting with a smile that creased the corners of her dark eyes.
Despite the early-evening hour and the fact that Elena had been running around a hot kitchen all afternoon, her makeup was perfect, her eyes expertly lined and with immaculate mascara.
A thick brown braid draped over one shoulder of her gray hoodie and white wireless headphones partially obscured the gold hoops hanging from her ears.
After the morning’s stressful start, Elena’s call couldn’t have been better timed. She was Jal’s oldest friend in the city, and when she wasn't making her money using a five-finger discount, Jal sometimes worked in the little restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen that Elena’s father owned.
Elena had practically lived in that kitchen from the time she was a teenager, though her desire to pursue a career in a certain performing art her father hadn’t agreed with caused a rift that had only recently started to mend.
Tall buildings and streetlights bounced in the background as Elena expertly navigated a busy sidewalk while holding her cell phone at arms-length as only a native could. “I was just heading to grab a drink at Darcy’s, if you want to join me.”
“Don’t I wish.” Jal replied as she propped up the phone on the table beside her bed and returned to laying the dresses out. “I’d much rather hit the pub than this dinner I have to go to.”
“Dinner?”
“Long story…” Jal said dismissively. “Short version is that some random guy took something of mine and I have to meet him for dinner to get it back.”
Elena snorted. “Ay, Dios, he doesn’t know who he’s messing with, does he?”
Jal grinned and winked at her friend. “Dinner’s in an hour,” she said, picking up a green dress and laying it down flat on the bed. “Help me pick something out.”
From the phone came a sudden stream of grunts and muffled cursing.
On the screen, Elena elbowed a well-dressed businessman out of the way so she could settle into a bench with a contented sigh.
She shrugged her shoulders as if making herself comfortable and then nodded her head. “What’ve we got for choices?”
Jal rolled her eyes but couldn’t hold in her smile as she held the black dress up in front of her where Elena could see. “We’re going to Amicetto.”
Elena scrunched her nose. “That dress screams garden tea party at best.” she said and flicked her hand dismissively at the camera. “You want sultry minx.”
She swapped the black dress for a green wrap that tied at one hip. It formed a deep vee between her breasts and parted at one leg when she walked. “How about this?”
Elena considered for a moment as Jal held the hanger under her chin and fanned out the long skirt, swaying to show how the buttery-soft yet heavy fabric moved.
“Better,” she replied. “We’ve gone from tea party to wedding reception. What else do you have?”
Jal turned back to the bed and retrieved the final possibility. "Just this one," she replied. "I got it at that place in the Garment District after a particularly good day. People should really pay closer attention to their wallets, especially ones with several grand in cash in them."
Elena snorted and gave Jal a closer look at her expert hand with the eyeliner as she leaned in to study the ice blue dress Jal now held.
It was silk, with a layer of beaded embroidery that started at one shoulder and cascaded down the length of the dress catching the light like the sun on a rippling stream.
The asymmetrical hem started just above the knee on one side and reached nearly to the floor on the other.
"Forget 'just,'" she purred. “Style those curls over one shoulder, add your strappy black stilettos, and that thieving asshole won’t know what hit him.”
Jal looked down at the dress and smoothed it over one hip. “Yeah, I think so too.”
“So, who is this guy?” Elena asked. She pushed up off the bench and resumed her walk. Jal turned away when the movement made her stomach turn. Or maybe it was the thought of dressing up for a guy she didn’t even know. One who had stolen from her.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Come on, nena,” she whined. “You gotta give me something.”
“Bye Elena.” Jal sang cheerfully and hung up. She tossed the phone on the bed and turned to the full-length mirror propped in the corner.
She studied her reflection and almost laughed at the stark contrast between the dress and her hair, which was half-falling out of a messy bun on the top of her head, and the rainbow felt slippers on her feet. After a moment, she tossed the dress down on the bed and headed for the shower.
Ciaran checked his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes and took a sip of his drink. He propped his elbow on the table and tipped his head to study the way the light bounced around the crystal glass when he swirled the deep amber liquid.
She was twenty minutes late and he was already on his second scotch.
The tables around him were full of the usual suspects for a high-end restaurant in Midtown. It was just far enough from the theater district that the well-heeled locals outnumbered the tourists playing dress up for dinner after their once-every-few-years stroll down Broadway.
Here the light glittered off diamonds bought from Harry Winston, not any store with a jingle. The men wore cufflinks and tailored suits, and the air was redolent with a pleasant blend of Italian spices and expensive French perfume.
Just as he was starting to debate between leaving and ordering a third scotch, the ma?tre d’ appeared from the front of the restaurant.
A sparkling vision in pale blue followed on his heels, close enough that it wasn’t until he rose to his feet and the ma?tre d' bent to pull out the chair across from him that he was able to really take her all in.
The dress fit her like a glove, the sheath beneath the beading and embroidery clinging to her curves in all the right places.
Her thick mane of black hair was draped over one shoulder in a cascade of curls, and at her ears glittered a pair of earrings made from a blend of diamonds and a bright teal stone he couldn’t put a name to.
Ciaran forced himself to look her in the eye as she slowly sank into her chair while the ma?tre d’ slid it in for her. Once she was settled, he sat back down himself with much less grace and picked up his glass. The waiter came over and he ordered another drink then raised an eyebrow at her.
Jal picked up the drinks menu and her eyes went at once to the bottom of the list and ordered the most expensive red wine sold by the glass.
Inwardly, he winced. He could get two full bottles at the local store for what that one glass cost, but then he wouldn’t have gotten to see her in this dress. Worth it, he decided.
Jal set the menu off to the side and shifted in her seat as if crossing her legs under the table.
He knew he was staring, but his jaw didn’t seem to want to do anything other than hang slightly open.
The waiter’s return snapped him out of it and he was able to move again, at least to gulp down the remaining whisky in his glass and hand it over.
It burned down his throat and stoked the heat already burning in his belly.
“What are you trying to do to me, lass?”
She wrapped those delicate pick-pocket fingers one by one around the stem of her wine glass and lifted it to the light to give it a swirl, just as he had done with the whisky.
Satisfied, she took a demure sip before regarding him over the rim of the glass, her dark emerald eyes flickered with heat. What kind, he wasn't quite sure.
He swallowed hard as that look punched him straight in the gut, leaving him even more confused.
He should be feeling at least a little satisfaction that his plan had worked.
That she was here meant she had found most of her stash gone and the dinner invitation left in its place.
But even before he’d left, she seemed more to be contemplating how many ways she could hide his body just for stealing her wallet.
Pot, meet kettle on that one.
The corners of her lips curled up just a little. “Kick your ass.”
Her voice curled around him like smoke and he swallowed again. “Mission accomplished then, lass.”
Jal chuckled and took pity on him by scooping up her menu, the large white card obscuring most of her face as she examined the options.
Ciaran did the same, and his eyes went again to a pasta dish with langoustine. He had the thing half-memorized, having read over it so many times while waiting for her.
“So, tell me,” she said casually, eyes still on the menu, “how did you get into my apartment?”
Ciaran leaned back in his chair and decided there was no use lying. “It was a simple matter, really,” he replied. “Your building is old. I climbed up the fire escape and jimmied open one of your bedroom windows.”
Jal pursed her lips, though she gave an appreciative nod as she set the menu aside. “I guess the important question then is why?”
“Why?”
Only one corner of her mouth lifted this time and there was the barest flicker of something dark in her eyes. “Yes, why?”
“Well, now, a thief never reveals his motives.” He admonished her with the same taunting tone he had used before. And if he wasn’t mistaken, she was yet again struggling against the urge to grind her teeth.