Chapter 8
Eight
“Ithink he’s here.”
Jal continued to study the bubbles that clung to the sides of her vodka soda before rising to the surface to burst. She idly ran her finger up and down through the condensation on the glass. “You’ve said that the last five times the door opened.”
Lexi flapped a hand at her almost-bored sounding tone that was taking all of her willpower to employ. If only Lexi knew how much she wanted to gulp down her drink, but the butterfly mosh pit in her stomach wouldn’t allow it.
“This time, I really think it’s him.” There was amusement in her voice, and something else that brought Jal’s head up high enough to look in the mirror behind the bar, but there was no one walking the carpet along the back wall. Her gaze moved to her own reflection and she pushed the glass away.
She didn’t feel like herself with her hair all twisted up and her makeup done.
The weight of all that hair on the back of her head made her neck work overtime.
And her makeup, which shaped and sculpted every contour of her face, was pure perfection, more than ready for a night on the town. Or a date.
Lexi turned back to her and waggled her eyebrows. “Tall, brown hair kind of falling in his eyes, and man, he’s got some shoulders filling out that trench coat. If that’s not your guy, Jal, then I swear to God, I’m going to go talk to him myself.”
“He’s not ‘my guy,’” Jal protested following Lexi’s line of sight as she turned back.
Sure enough, over by the host station, a man was shrugging out of a tan trench coat.
He had an athletic build with a narrow waist that widened to shoulders that were barely contained by a dark suit.
She couldn’t see his face, and it was hard enough keeping her eyes on him through the milling crowd around the bar, but there was something familiar about the cock of his head. “But yeah, that could be him.”
Jal turned her chair back to the bar and scooped up her drink. Bubbles tickled her throat as she swallowed half of the glass in one go.
“Oh my God, the hostess just stuck her chest out at him!”
She choked, the vodka burning into her sinuses. She nearly dropped the glass in her haste to set it aside, then curled over the bar, coughing.
Lexi reached across the bar and took a cocktail napkin from the pile and handed it over while patting her sharply on the back until Jal shook her off.
Jal dabbed carefully around her mouth and cleared the moisture from the corner of her eyes, careful not to ruin Lexi’s handiwork that had taken most of the afternoon to complete.
Jal was almost ashamed how excited Lexi had gotten when she’d finally managed to tear her attention away from the peonies, and the ruffled shadows they cast on the table, to pick up the phone and ask to meet her for a drink.
Lexi had come barreling through the door half an hour later, arms laden with clothes, a travel case full of makeup the size of her head balanced precariously on top.
She’d practically shoved Jal in the shower and then fussed over her for the rest of the afternoon, teasing and tweezing and crafting the perfect winged eyeline all the while peppering her with questions.
Jal had just squirmed in the chair and dodged every one of them with a quiet smile or a sarcastic comment until she’d finally just poked her friend playfully in the side and said, “Can’t we just go out for once and have a nice time?”
Lexi had stopped with the questions, but she’d studied every muscle twitch and fidget as they finished getting ready, and on the ride over to the restaurant.
It wasn’t until they’d settled into the two remaining seats at the bar and ordered their second round of drinks that Jal had told her the real reason she had fresh flowers on the table and why she’d chosen this particular restaurant.
Only a stern warning look and a threat to go home right then and there had kept Lexi from making a scene, but still she’d bounced in her chair with excitement.
Her friend had a date with the hot Scottish guy.
The same friend whose blue eyes were suddenly wide and full of mischief. “Your guy didn’t even look at her boobs.” she assured her, nudging Jal in the side with her elbow. “He just handed over his coat and followed her into the restaurant. Gotta give him points for that at least.”
Jal just huffed a soft laugh through her nose and took a cautious sip of her drink. It still burned as it went down, but it kindled a little fire in her stomach, which was suddenly much too empty.
Lexi picked up her phone from the bar and glanced at the time. “You better get in there. It’s already a quarter past.”
The last sip of her drink sent the heat up to her cheeks and summoned the butterflies back into place. She reached into her purse for cash, but Lexi was already placing a black credit card on the bar. “I got this.”
Normally, Jal would have protested, even when she knew Lexi could afford it with her cushy PR job, but she had bigger things to worry about tonight.
“Can I help you?”
Jal suppressed the urge to roll her eyes when the hostess didn’t even look up from her reservation list. She certainly wasn’t puffing out her chest.
“I think the reservation is under Gray,” Jal replied and cursed inwardly at the nerves in her voice. “Party of two.”
The brunette finally looked up and though her dark eyes were aloof, the quick flare of her nostrils betrayed her surprise.
She coldly studied Jal, from the elegant twist of her hair, to the tips of her simple maroon heels.
The black dress in between hugged her curves, the draped neckline pooling between her breasts.
Lexi had loaned her a gold necklace with a large emerald-cut diamond that sat perfectly in the hollow of her throat.
Matching diamonds swung gently from her ears throwing sparks of light into the shadows where the hostess stood.
Who the hell does she think she is? Jal shook off the weight of her scrutiny, and stood up to her full height, which even in three-inch heels wasn’t all that impressive, and leveled her with an impassive gaze instead of the sneer that was waiting just beneath the surface.
When the woman didn’t move, she raised one perfectly sculpted black eyebrow and held out her coat with both arms. She could have left it with Lexi, who promised to wait at the bar until Elena got out of work and could join her, but the look on the hostess’s face was priceless.
The woman exhaled loudly through her nose and took the coat, draping it over her arm with a deliberate care that said she’d rather stuff it into a ball as she stalked silently into the restaurant.
They quickly passed the table from last week, now occupied by an elderly couple sharing a plate of tiramisu between them.
The woman’s back faced Jal, but the warmth in the man’s eyes as he looked at his wife made Jal’s heart ache.
She hadn’t had a man look at her like that in a very long time.
Hell, she’d never had a man look at her like that.
Then the hostess rounded a large table full of businessmen with loosened ties who were one drink away from a scene and turned for a cluster of tables in a small alcove and Ciaran came into view.
They were most of the way to the table before he looked up from the menu to see her approach.
The lines between his eyebrows immediately disappeared, and his eyes locked with hers, a flame flickering to life in those whisky-colored depths.
A heartbeat stretched into an eternity as he rose to his feet.
He was dressed in a smart waistcoat and tie in shades of blue; his jacket draped over the back of the chair.
He’d tidied his hair, but a thick lock had escaped to fall across his forehead almost into his eyes.
She doubted that any change to his clothing or hair could ever completely erase the air of mystery about him, laced with just a hint of scoundrel.
Jal stopped a few steps from the table. Her heart pounded in her rib cage so hard it practically bounced the necklace away from her skin.
The hostess cleared her throat with more force than was necessary, but it was enough to break their eye contact.
Jal looked over at her, wondering just how long they had been staring at each other.
Long enough, she decided, when the woman gestured stiffly to the empty seat across from Ciaran and walked away.
They reached for the chair at the same time, but Ciaran got there first. Jal let out a nervous laugh and stepped to the side so he could pull it smoothly back from the table.
Having never experienced such chivalrous behavior, she copied what she had seen in the movies and stepped into the space he’d created, then slowly sat, praying that Ciaran pushed the chair in so she didn’t sprawl out in a heap on the floor.
Not that she wouldn’t have blamed him if he did.
But the chair caught her perfectly, and she could see why women in the movies had always been so impressed. The backs of his fingers left goosebumps behind as they trailed across her skin when he released the chair.
“Should I be worried about my coat?” Jal asked, eyes on the retreating hostess.
Ciaran chuckled as he settled back in his chair, the sound wrapped around her neck as if it were his hand reaching to cup the back of her head.
She leaned into the sensation without realizing that she was doing it, but his eyes tracked her every motion as he placed his napkin back in his lap and wrapped his hand around a glass, obscuring the finger of honey-amber liquid.
A waiter in a white button-down shirt and a long red apron approached and asked for her drink order.
Jal’s fingers toyed with the diamond around her neck while she examined the drinks menu and selected a mid-price Italian red that sounded good, something about dark cherries and sweet herbs. The waiter nodded and walked away with assurances he’d be back momentarily to take their orders.
But still Ciaran didn’t move. “What?” she asked cautiously, resisting the urge to shift in her seat under his gaze, and not from the anger she’d expected to feel. She picked up the menu hoping that a physical barrier would help. It didn’t.
“You’re quite the mystery, Jal Morrow.”
She lowered the menu and glowered at him as he took a sip from the glass that had been poised at his lips and slowly set it back on the table.
“Look who’s talking,” she quipped, the indignation flooding back in a rush.
“You haven’t told me anything about yourself either.
All I know is that you broke into my apartment, robbed me of most of my stash, then traipsed in a few hours later under the guise of exchanging wallets to hide the fact that you’d been there in the first place. ”
There was a flash of white teeth. “Was that all in one breath?”
She huffed. “I’ve got to hand it to you. It took balls to do what you did.”
“Thank you,” he said, then his lips twisted. “I think.”
“It wasn’t a compliment, merely an observation.” She told him. “I still want to know why.”
He studied her for another moment and said nothing.
Before he could speak, the waiter returned with her wine and took their orders.
She ordered a shrimp pasta with a lemon-garlic sauce praying she didn't ruin Lexi's dress.
Ciaran studied the offerings closely, his eyes searching carefully until he finally requested something unintelligibly Italian that started with a "V" and handed the menus over.
He waited until the waiter was out of earshot before he began.
“I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but after I moved to town, I started going to this one coffee shop on the edge of Washington Square Park and people-watched from the terrace.
One day, I saw this person bundled up in a loose jacket with a floppy knitted cap on their head slowly weaving through the crowd.
They'd walk just close enough to an unguarded jacket pocket, a bag left that bit too open under an arm, and then, continue on their way.
" He swirled the small amount of what she presumed was whisky around in the glass.
"To the untrained eye, nothing suspicious was even happening. "
To her horror, she felt her cheeks warm and tried to cover it with a sip of wine.
Not the best idea given her head was already feeling a little too light from the earlier drinks on an empty stomach.
As if sensing her need, the waiter appeared with a basket of sliced focaccia and a small plate of olive oil, grated cheese, and ground herbs.
Jal reached for it eagerly. The bread was still warm, and the dip had a crunchy sweetness of dried roasted garlic that burst on her tongue.
"Imagine my surprise when I was crossing the park on my way back to work and felt those talented fingers slip into my pocket."
Jal's voice was strained when she said, "and then, you suddenly changed direction and down we went."
Ciaran nodded. "I knew you had my wallet, but didn't say anything as we righted ourselves.
" He scratched at the back of his neck and the light flashed off his silver watchband.
"I don't know what came over me, but I think a part of me just wanted to see if I could still pull it off, see whether you'd catch me if I tried to pick your pocket in return.
" He reached for a slice of bread and tore off a piece to dunk in the oil mixture.
In response to her raised eyebrow he added, "I used to be a thief. "
“Used to be?”
“Aye, back in Scotland," he replied, speaking carefully as he chewed. "And I was pretty good at it, too. Broke into pretty much any building anyone ever asked me to, and quite a few that no one expected me to. Private houses, offices. I did a museum once and cannily too I might add.”
The soft smile that played on his lips as he reminisced brought the butterflies back full force. She didn't know what "cannily" meant but she also didn't doubt that he was capable of it.
“I hid in a storage closet, waited for the middle of the night when the museum was empty and stole about a thousand Pound worth of Jacobite-era coins. I still have a few.”
He seemed genuinely impressed with himself. She didn't know what had prompted this sudden reminiscence, but she found herself leaning forward to listen. Curious as she was of what he might say, she couldn't help a little doubt showing on her face.
Seeing it, he added, “granted, the security wasnae too tight, but I had to chase off a guard dog or two before I made it out.”
“Congratulations.” She replied dryly, and raised her wine in salute. "Why did you stop?"
He sighed and, for a moment, she didn't think that he was going to answer. But then he shrugged. "I got caught."