“You never cease to amaze me.”
“Because amazing you is the primary goal of my life.”
He gasped beside me, and I couldn’t contain a snicker. When my face cracked, he joined in.
“Jeez, Veronica. Here we were making progress, and I thought you’d gone back to being the woman I first met.”
“I’m still her, Bax. Just because you’re starting to get on the tiny piece of good side I possess, that doesn’t mean I’m suddenly all pink teddy bears and snuggles.”
“I’d never expect that of you.”
“Good.” I slid my sunglasses on. “Now, where are we headed?”
Bax’s stomach growled so loud, Ari whimpered from the backseat. “We’ll start our tour soon. But first, breakfast.”
• • •
I felt exponentially better after three more cups of coffee, a giant plate of bacon and eggs, and the banana Bax insisted I needed.
“Potassium and rehydration,” he’d said, nudging a large glass of water across the table. “The key to curing any hangover.”
“I thought it was hair of the dog that bit you?”
“Only if you want to continue the vicious cycle.”
I hated to admit it, as we strolled past the Reflecting Pool toward the Lincoln Memorial with Ari leading the way, but he’d been right. My head no longer throbbed like someone had replaced my brain with my heart, and I didn’t feel the need to vomit at just the thought of movement.
The air smelled crisp and slightly damp, as though it held the promise of snow. I shivered and pulled my coat tighter. Our breaths puffed out in white clouds as we walked. I’d never admit it, but I was glad Bax had insisted on a coat. I couldn’t remember the last Thanksgiving that had been this cold. Maybe it was time to head back to L.A. and the sunshine.
I surveyed the few people milling around the Reflecting Pool. “There aren’t a lot of people out.”
“It’s Thanksgiving,” Bax said. “Most are probably with their families.”
“Guess that makes us strange. Why aren’t you with yours?”
He popped his collar higher. “My parents moved to Paris a few years ago. Getting a ticket out there is a little out of my price range at the moment. Although, to be honest, I tried celebrating in France their first year there, and it wasn’t the same. Duck à l’orange has nothing on good old turkey. What about you?”
I stopped at the edge of the pool and watched our mirrored images on the surface. “I don’t really celebrate it. I never have. My mom hated holidays when I was a kid. She was kind of . . . flaky. Most of the time, she forgot it was a holiday until it had passed.”
“And now?”
I thrust my hands into my pockets and turned away from my reflection. “I wouldn’t know. I ran away at sixteen.” My insides coiled like a bad perm, and I quickly changed the subject. “So are you gonna show me what I’m missing in this great city of ours or what?”
Bax dabbed at the water with his toe, ripples extending from his foot. “Sure. Come on, there are a lot of stairs, but it’s worth it. This is my favorite place in the whole world.”
I followed him up to the memorial, Ari tugging on his leash excitedly.
“You’d better not pee on our former president,” I said to the dog. He cocked his head at me in response, then continued up the stairs.
The memorial was practically empty. Our steps echoed off the cavernous walls. To the right was a small gift shop, and to my left was the giant white statue of Abraham Lincoln people flocked to daily.
Bax stared at it like it had magical powers. “Isn’t it amazing?”
“It’s a big statue. This is your favorite place in the city? I don’t get it.”
“It’s not the statue itself, but what it represents. Freedom, change. The fact that you can accomplish anything you set your mind to.”
“Like getting yourself shot at the theater?” I crossed my arms as I took in the memorial. It was definitely impressive in size. But I’d seen other things impressive in size, and they weren’t always great when you got to know them better.
“Oh my God, Veronica. Lincoln is so much more than that. He freed the American slaves. He brought huge change to this country. This whole city is teeming with moments like that. Down the street is the memorial to Martin Luther King Jr. He fought for change, too. For equality for all men.” He hopped from foot to foot in excitement. “That’s what I’m trying to do with my blankets. I’m telling people they are worth fighting for, and they are equal to me, no matter their circumstances. It may seem like a small thing, but change has to start somewhere.”
His cheeks flushed as he spoke, and it was annoyingly adorable how much he believed in his cause. I couldn’t think of a single thing I felt as passionate about.
“I guess I never thought about it like that,” I said. “I’ve driven by here a million times. I just saw it as a big statue.”
“It’s different being this close, right?” He stepped nearer to the statue, and his voice bounced off the walls. “It always makes me feel so small and insignificant. People come here from all over the world, with all different salaries and experiences. Yet when we stand here, we are all equal in size and stature. Compared to him, we’re all small. But we all have the potential to make a huge impact in this world. That’s why I come here whenever I feel beaten down or need to figure things out. This place gives me hope.”
Someone arrived with a tiny Chihuahua in tow, and Ari lost it. I flew forward as he pulled the leash, knocking into Bax with a grunt.
“Ari!” Bax said. “Calm down.”
He wrapped his hand over mine and tugged the leash. The owner of the tiny dog gave us a dirty look, then picked up the Chihuahua and moved out of our line of sight. Ari stared after them for a moment, finally losing interest and lying down at my feet.
“Crazy dog,” Bax said.
“You got that right.”
We stood so close, a turn of my head might’ve brought our lips together. Bax’s fingers still encircled mine over the leash. He traced the back of my hand as his breath became ragged in my ear. His chest heaved against my shoulder, and I risked a look at him. Cheeks still flushed, his eyes scanned my face.
Heat rushed through my limbs, and I tilted my body so we were almost pressed chest to chest. He touched my cheek with his free hand, running his fingers down my neck and arm and letting them settle on my lower back.
“Veronica,” he whispered, leaning forward.
I closed my eyes, anticipating his lips on mine, and that was when Frank’s face flashed before me. Bax’s gentle touch was replaced with Frank’s rough one. My heart screeched in my chest, and I stepped back with a gasp. I dropped the leash.
Bax almost fell onto the pavement, but he righted himself in time to grab Ari before he escaped to seek out the offending Chihuahua from earlier.
“I’m sorry, Bax,” I said. “We can’t. I already told you. I don’t date clients.”
He studied my face for a moment, then bobbed his head. “Yeah, I remember. Just caught up in the excitement of this place, I guess.”
“That must be it.”
I shoved my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t scratch my skin off at the memory of Frank’s hands on it. I clenched my jaw. God, I hated him for doing this to me. While I hadn’t lied about not wanting to get involved with a client, it wasn’t fair that Bax had even gotten mixed up with Frank in my head. The two were complete opposites.
Bax reached to touch my shoulder, then snatched his hand back before he made contact. “Okay, I get that you don’t find this as impressive as I do. But I think I know something in this city that will get your attention. Let’s get out of here. We’re going to the Smithsonian.”
“What in the world would I want to see in a museum?”
“The Hope Diamond.”
“Diamond?” I grinned. �
�I like the sound of that.”
“I thought so. Hang on just a second. I have to run to the gift shop first.”
He handed me Ari’s leash and disappeared before I could protest. I took a seat on the top step, rubbing Ari’s head and ears. The dog nestled his wet nose into my shoulder.
“Here.” Bax shoved a small bag into my face.
“What’s that?”
“Your very first trinket. Something to put on that bookshelf and to hold on to when you lose hope.”
I reached into the bag and pulled out a tiny plastic replica of the Lincoln Memorial.
“Thanks. It’s perfect.”
The smile remained on my face the rest of the tour.
• • •
We ended at the National Gallery of Art. After exploring the various Smithsonian museums, walking the National Mall, and now viewing most of the expensive paintings, my feet killed. My legs cramped by the twentieth room we visited, and I plopped down on a bench with a sigh. We’d dropped Ari back home before hitting the museums and gallery, so I no longer had him pulling me along, but my fingers still ached from clutching the leash earlier. I flexed them back and forth, and spread my toes in my boots.
“You okay?” Bax took a seat beside me.
“Yeah. You weren’t kidding about this being a lot of walking.”
“Worth it, though?”
“Definitely. That diamond was the coolest thing I’ve seen in a long time. I don’t even care if it’s cursed. I want it.”
He laughed. “Well, you keep meeting billionaires and maybe it will be yours.”
I stiffened as I thought of being back in Frank’s giant penthouse. “Rich men aren’t always what they’re made out to be.”
Bax’s hands clenched into fists, but he said nothing.
We watched the fountain in the center of the gallery for a few moments. That’s when I noticed the poster on the wall.
I stood and studied it up close. “Hey, Bax?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s a huge gala here for cancer awareness next week.”
He shifted closer on the bench. “Okay . . .”
“Don’t you get it? These things are full of potential investors. And these people want to give to charity. That’s why they go—to be seen as generous people who care about the cause. Celebrities, paparazzi, the place is full of people to show off in front of. And I bet they’d listen to your pitch. Especially after a giant meal and an open bar.”
Bax joined me at my side and peered over my shoulder. “Okay, but don’t they cost a fortune to go to? There, it says it’s ten grand a ticket. I don’t have twenty thousand dollars to go to a party. Hell, even twenty bucks is pushing it.”
“Leave it to me,” I said. “There are always cancellations, and because it’s for charity they never ask for their money back. They just write it off on their taxes. That means there will be some empty seats. I’ll do some snooping and contact some people. Trust me. Just make sure your tux is cleaned and ready for next Thursday.”
I took a photo of the poster with my phone before replacing it in the bag on my arm, settling it on top of the replicas of each place we’d visited that Bax had insisted on getting me throughout the day.
“Considering I haven’t even worn it yet, we’re good there.”
“Perfect.” I gestured to the gallery. “Did we see everything? I’m beat.”
“I think so. How about we head home?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. I had zero interest in sitting in my loft by myself for the rest of the night. “I’m kinda hungry. How about dinner? You choose the place, and I’ll pay.”
“Does it have to have white tablecloths and silk napkins?”
“No. I’m actually kinda sick of those places.”
His smile cut clear across his face, making him look younger than ever. “Good. Me, too. I know just the spot.”
We ended up at a small Mexican restaurant down the street from his apartment, where the chairs and tables folded out and the lights resembled piñatas. It was the very definition of tacky, but it was warm and homey and it smelled like tomatoes and fresh tortillas. The place was empty, and they sat us in a booth at the back. Bax knew the owner, and after the two chatted, a waiter brought tacos and empanadas without us even placing an order. They were spicy and salty all at once, and my tongue hummed in appreciation.
After a day of walking, we scarfed down every morsel, including the bowls of fried ice cream they presented to us for dessert.
“What do you think?” Bax wiped a speck of red sauce off the corner of his mouth with his paper napkin.
“Honestly? I’ve eaten at some of the city’s fanciest restaurants and tasted food cooked by the world’s most renowned chefs. But that was one of the best meals of my life.”
I tossed my napkin into my empty ice cream bowl and sat back in my seat, rubbing my full stomach.
“I love this place,” Bax said. “Also, we have far fewer rules. You’re actually supposed to eat the food here.”
“Touché.”
Bax picked up his glass of cola and raised it. I did the same with mine. “Happy Thanksgiving, Veronica. It may not have been the most traditional of holidays, but it was fun.”
“Agreed.” I clinked my glass against his. “Happy Thanksgiving, Bax.”
I took a sip of the sweet soda, letting it slowly trickle down my throat, and gulped when I realized—it no longer bothered me that he called me by my real name. Actually, I kind of liked it.
Bax
The limo Veronica sent to pick me up before the gala could’ve held her and me, plus the family of ten that lived down my street—and maybe their neighbors.
I tugged at the sleeve of my tux jacket as we idled outside her building, taking in the ceiling lit to look like it had been stamped with stars and the plush benches that took up an entire side of the car. It boggled my mind that there were people sleeping on a sewer grate a few blocks over to keep warm, and I sat in a far-too-big car with, let’s face it, better upholstery than my apartment.
Veronica had insisted on the limo. She’d said we had to look important from the moment we pulled up to the moment we left. I couldn’t understand how people inside the gala would know what we’d driven up in, but she had proven herself when it came to the finer things. She definitely trumped me in that category.
The doorway of her building lit up as Veronica emerged, and I damn well nearly forgot how to breathe. Once again not giving a crap about the frigid temperatures, she strode toward me in a floor-length yellow gown that hugged her curves like she’d been sized for it and not the other way around. Silver sparkles ran down the gaping neck, which sliced almost all the way to her belly button and gave me a fantastic view of her chest and flat stomach. A slit up the left side of the dress opened with every step she took, showing off her trim legs and arcing up her thigh. Her hair had been pulled into an elaborate updo at the back of her head, revealing her long, swanlike neck, and her ears were adorned with diamond earrings.
Holy God, or Krishna or Buddha or Santa Claus, or whatever people believed in nowadays, how the hell would I get through the night with her beside me dressed like that? Already, sweat dotted my forehead and upper lip. The limo had suddenly shrunk to half its colossal size. I yanked my bow tie off my throat to give myself some breathing space.
“Hey, Bax.” Veronica climbed into the seat beside me, lifting her skirt so she wouldn’t trip on it. The plastic limo smell was instantly replaced with the scent of a field of strawberries. Jeez, that was a lot of leg pressing against my thigh. I clutched the seat so I wouldn’t try to take her into my arms. The ripped dress from her trash and the way she’d jumped when I got close at the Lincoln Memorial still haunted me. I was not going to be that guy who violated her space again.
“Bax?” She waved her yellow clutch in front of my face. “You
okay?”
I blinked and ran my tongue around my dry mouth. “Yeah. I . . . You look incredible, Veronica.”
“Of course I do.” The words were what I expected of her. The blush that crept into her cheeks was new. Who knew a compliment could still embarrass her?
The lights of the city cut through the window as we headed to the gallery. Veronica fished two gold pieces of paper out of her purse. “I got the tickets. Tonight we’re”—she narrowed her eyes at the writing—“Charlotte and Grant Dixon.”
“Wait. You never said I’d have to pretend to be someone else. Playing other people is your thing, not mine.”
“It’s no big deal. No one at the door will know what we’re supposed to look like. We hand over the tickets and sit in the Dixons’ seats at dinner. That’s it. Once we’re actually inside, no one is going to care who we are, as long as we look like we belong.”
I fiddled with my cuff link. “Well, you certainly look like you belong.”
“So do you.” She patted my knee, her hand warm through the fabric of my pants. “You look pretty good in a tux, Bax.”
“Don’t get too used to it. I’m not exactly a poster boy for my cause dressed up like this. I could feed almost the entire shelter if I sold this suit.”
“Oh, come on. This party is for charity. That should make you happy.”
“Except we didn’t actually purchase the tickets.”
“No.” She held up the papers. “But Charlotte and Grant did. That should count for something. Now, get ready, we’re here.”
I don’t know what I’d expected at a ten-thousand-dollar-a-plate gala, but it definitely wasn’t the circus that greeted me on the other side of the limo door.
Red carpet raced down the sidewalks and up the stairs of the gallery. White lights lit the street to the sheen of day, and to our left, the flashbulbs of photographers flickered like strobe lights.
Dealing in Deception Page 11