Chapter 2
LEXI
Iwanted to laugh. No one apart from my mom had ever asked me for a favor in the past year, especially not rich men in bars.
“Considering that I’m about to leave, I’m very tempted to say no,” I said, preparing myself to say no to whatever outrageous plan he came up with. It would be outrageous, that I was confident about.
A wealthy man did not ditch his date for any good reason.
“But?” he prompted, a confident smile spreading on his lips.
God, he looked ridiculously charming. So much so that I found myself wondering if he’d been this handsome in his twenties. On second thought, I didn’t care for the younger look on him. There was something about the way he held himself, a distinguished air, that made him irresistible to me.
“But I promised myself that I’d have an adventure tonight, and I must say, I’m actually curious about what you’re going to ask,” I admitted.
He laughed a beautiful, throaty laugh as the few lines around his eyes crinkled.
But he is taken, I reminded myself.
And besides, since when had I gone for older men? There was easily more than ten years between us, and I’d only ever dated Dylan, who was the same age as me.
When he looked at me again, amusement was etched all over his face.
“All right,” he said, lowering his voice, “can you help me confirm something about my date? I think she just pocketed my watch.”
The overhead lights caught the angles of his jaw, and I swallowed. He looked handsomer by the minute. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t had a thing for older men before. I did now.
But kleptomaniac date or not, this woman was probably a wealthy socialite, just like him. Did I really want to get involved in this?
My gut said yes. I wanted to help him.
“I don’t want any trouble,” I said.
His gaze deepened, the flecks of gold in his brown eyes seeming to still in seriousness. “I would never let anyone get away with troubling you,” he answered.
I swallowed. This was going to be hard.
“Why me?” I asked. “You don’t even know me.”
“Because,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, “you’ve been watching her all night. And not in a jealous way, but in a calculating way. Like you’re trying to figure something out about her.”
I blinked, caught off guard by his observation. He was right. I had been watching her, something nagging at me about the way she carried herself, the way she kept checking her purse, the nervous energy that reminded me of my Mom.
“You recognize something about her, don’t you?” he pressed gently.
My stomach dropped. Growing up with a mother who had a habit of “borrowing” things that didn’t belong to her had taught me to read the signs. The way someone’s eyes would dart around a room, the subtle tells, the nervous energy barely contained beneath a smooth facade.
His date was wearing that look now. I’d seen it on my mom countless times. When she indulged in petty shoplifting during my childhood, laughing it off whenever my grandpa scolded her. Or more recently, when she took money from my purse while I was staying with her after Evie was born.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” I said, attempting to convey finality in my voice. What if I was wrong? What if she hadn’t stolen from him and instead I got into trouble?
Sidestepping him, I walked away. I was determined to get away from this man with dangerously beautiful eyes. Especially considering he was on a date with someone else and trying to flirt with me.
I’d taken no more than five steps when a movement in the distance caught my attention.
The man’s date had stood up, and for a fleeting moment, I saw her eyes flicker to the exit before she turned and caught me looking.
A nervous look came over her before it was gone, quickly replaced by a steely and hard expression, one meant to tamp down all signs of emotion.
I recognized that look.
A fire lit in my belly. Damn it.
I spun around on my heel and turned to face the man. He was still disarmingly looking at me, a knowing smile on his face.
“I knew you’d turn around,” he said, crossing the short distance between us to reach me.
He oozed confidence and a slight assuredness, which I found hard to ignore.
“I’m in,” I said to the man, my mouth speaking before my mind could intervene. “But I need you to know that I’m not doing this because I think it’ll be fun. I’m doing this because I hate thieves. Come on.”
He gripped my hand, and the touch sent a beautiful shiver running up my arm.
Ugh. Why is he so gorgeous? I should be walking away from him.
“What exactly do you need me to do?” I asked as we walked. “What’s your plan?”
He paused, studying my face. “Honestly? I was hoping you’d have ideas. You seemed to know what to look for.”
Fantastic. A gorgeous man without a plan.
“Fine. We’ll approach her together. But we need a reason for me to get close enough to see if she actually has your watch.”
“Let me handle that,” he said.
My legs moved of their own accord, keeping up with him, ignoring every directive my mind was giving them.
I’d really let my body languish in the past few months of studying, and now it was betraying me.
The blond-haired woman looked at us in suspicion as we approached. Her eyes narrowed as she zeroed in on the man’s hand on my wrist.
His palm was warm, and his hold was a tad bit possessive.
When she looked up, there was a wisp of fear in her eyes before she caught herself.
Up close, I recognized the signs. She was wearing a Chanel tweed dress and looking beautiful in it. But from where I stood, I could see her shoulder pads, and the pattern didn’t align at the seams.
It was most likely a knockoff, which I understood. I couldn’t afford branded clothes myself.
But a quick scan told me that brands mattered a great deal to her.
Her clutch purse and even her earrings were meticulously chosen brands.
The first was a Hermès Kelly pochette with an off-center logo and the latter, Louis Vuitton hoop earrings, where the monogram had jagged edges.
Both were an attempt to convey wealth she seemingly didn’t own. My heart went out to her.
The woman’s smile disappeared from her face, and her lips pressed into a thin line.
I was very conscious of the man’s warm hand, firm and solid around mine before he took it a step further.
He moved his hand to the small of my back and gave me a tiny rub.
A sigh escaped me at the gentle caress, and I had to resist the urge to lean against his solid, tall frame.
I was being a horrible member of the female fraternity, but at least I could make up for it by being a better detective.
And outing another woman. Sure.
“Tahlia,” he said, speaking to the blonde lady. “Look who I ran into.”
Tahlia turned to me, a distrustful look in her eyes.
With the man’s hand on my back, I felt completely in sync with him. “I’m Lexi. It’s nice to meet you, Tahlia,” I said, affecting an ease I didn’t feel.
Tahlia’s eyes narrowed. “That’s Ms. McAllister to you,” she snapped. “And how do you know Jonah?” she asked, her eyes probing.
A flush crept up my neck. So, that’s his name. Jonah.
Jonah spoke up. “We met at the Whitney Museum Gala,” he answered for me.
“Who is she to you?” Tahlia asked him accusingly. “A girlfriend you didn’t tell me you had?”
I spoke before he could. “I came over because I’d insisted he give you one thousand dollars for the covert glances he was shooting me all through your date.”
Stumped, the woman blinked while Jonah’s mouth dropped.
“One thousand dollars?” she asked, her voice coming out high-pitched.
I turned to Jonah. “Go on,” I said. “Admit that you weren’t looking at me. Or pay up.”
He stared at me, part mesmerized and part stupefied before the tips of his lips curved. His hand slipped into his pocket, pulling out a couple of hundred-dollar bills. “I only have two hundred dollars,” he said in a wry voice.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “What about the remaining eight hundred dollars?” I asked with a pointed look, and he caught on.
With unnerving calm, he met Tahlia’s glare.
“Well, the only other expensive thing I’ve got on me …” he said, lifting his left arm to display his bare wrist. “Oh look.” He met Tahlia’s gaze. His silence stretched just long enough to make the air feel heavier. “You’ve already helped yourself to it, haven’t you?” His tone was steady.
All color drained from the woman’s face in a way that suggested she definitely had. She stood up. She shot me an angry look, all bristling before she turned to Jonah.
“If you want to insinuate I’m a thief, why did you lead me on for so long, you jerk?” After saying so, she reached for her drink in a manner that suggested she was looking for someone to fling it on.
Some sort of protective instinct took over, and I took a step forward, putting a hand out to stop her when she turned and flung the contents of her glass on me.
The huge, bright pink martini flew through the air and splashed all over me in a wild arc.
The pink liquid splattered across my white dress, dripping down in streaks. The bar went silent; the only sound heard was the soft drip of the drink hitting the floor.
I felt the cold first before the icy trickle down my cheeks and neck made me gasp. Then the shock of having a martini running down me took over.
I couldn’t believe it.
I’d ended up being the target of Tahlia’s rage.
In the stunned silence that followed, Jonah cursed and swung me around to help.
“Are you all right?” he asked while Tahlia stomped off, her heels hitting the ground with ferocity as she walked out of the bar, taking the watch with her.
I spluttered while Jonah reached for the napkins and handed them to me. I took them in mute shock. This was definitely not the night I’d been hoping to have. I’d responded to a guy’s flirty banter, and now I had vodka dripping into my lace panties, and definitely not in a sexy way.