by G. E. Mason
"Another hour. I had nothing to do."
She looked around the bar. "You don't think someone in the neighborhood would have called the cops on some guy loitering?"
"I'm wearing a designer suit and shoes. I'm carrying a briefcase. I fit into this neighborhood." He paused to look over her outfit. "Probably better than you do."
For the first time in this encounter, she really looked at him. His suit looked as if it had been tailored for him. He wore it like a second skin as if he wore clothes like this since birth. Maybe he had. He had that air about him. That he'd come from money.
Old money which didn't shout. Instead it sat quietly, but if you looked hard enough, you could see it. The tie was striped and but only two colors, blue and gray.
Her gaze went back up to his warm eyes. Eyes she could get lost in. "So you live here?"
"Not far."
Another man in a suit walked into the bar. His was also expensive and probably tailored. Maybe she did stand out more than she hoped. "Were you walking home from work?"
"Yes."
She looked at her watch. "A workaholic?"
"To be coming home this late? Yes, but I'm not usually out at this time. Must be kismet that I saw you."
She held up a hand. "Let's not pour it on too thick."
Her heart wanted to guard against this man. He made her feel as if she were the only woman in the room. She wasn't the prettiest here. That wasn't insecurity, that was a fact. She knew she wasn't bad looking and if she worked at it, she could be gorgeous. Her looks were just not important to her.
"So what about me made you stop?"
"Your confidence."
Wearing black and slinking down the street didn't really speak of confidence. She'd hoped she usually went by unnoticed. That's how she wanted to be in most of her life. Just under the radar. Then again, she had always been told she carried herself well.
"You don't believe me," he said.
"I know that I don't stand out."
"You work at it. Not standing out. But you do."
Not a question but a statement.
"Why do you say that?" she said.
"All black. And not the 'I'm from New York' all black." He looked around the bar. "Like the patrons here."
She followed his gaze to those who sat at the bar. Yes, they were in black. Just like she was. None of them probably had a balaclava in their pocket. Or a stolen diamond necklace. Her eyes returned to his mesmerizing ones. "What's the difference?"
"The New York Black is designer from head to toe. Yours is more Old Navy than Fifth Avenue."
She nodded. "I see. Is that what made me stand out? You thought you read me as a person in need of saving? A person not comfortable to navigate New York?"
"Don't get defensive. I said it was your confidence that attracted me. You don't need brand name duds to stand out."
She frowned, not sure if she'd done a bad job hiding or if he was just charming her.
But he was charming her and she didn't want to be charmed.
Well okay, she kind of liked it, but she didn't want to like it.
As much as she didn't want to admit it, this man intrigued her. Every hair of his dark brown hair was in place. His hands had no callouses and they rested on the table. He didn't fidget. His clothing spoke of wealth, but he didn't seem to be a snob.
"Instead of questioning the situation, why not sit back and enjoy it?" he said.
"And how should I do that?"
"By getting to know me. And I'll get to know you."
"You first."
He cocked his head. "Sure. I'm an art dealer."
This piqued her curiosity, but if she were to pursue anything with this man, she could not steal from him. His clients were another story. They probably had more money in their wallet than most people had in their bank accounts.
"An art dealer?"
"I also own a small gallery. And my clothes today are because I was meeting an older client who still likes people to wear a suit that he does business with. I am usually dressed a little more Bohemian than this."
"But your suit and how you wear it speaks of old money."
"Yes, I grew up rich. It helped me with my chosen career."
"And you're successful at it."
He ran a hand through his hair which was the first movement he'd made since they sat down. He showed no nervous energy. That made Donna want to fidget for him.
He smiled. "Moderately. I also have a trust fund."
She nodded. "I see."
"You did not come from money," he said.
She tried not to flinch. "No, I didn't."
"Tell me more. About you now. Not then."
She pressed her lips together. Should she invent a story?
He reached out to take her hand. "Don't be afraid. I won't judge."
Looking down at their intertwined fingers, she cleared her throat. "Nothing really exciting to tell. I'm an accountant for a small firm. I handle other people's money all day."
"And what does Donna do for fun?"
The topic was beginning to warm her. As was his large hand in her small one. His skin had a darker tone, but that was not surprising. She was pale from her Irish heritage. "You're not going to believe this, but I go to art galleries."
His head went back as he laughed. His whole trim body shook with it. "I don't think you are charming enough to lie to me."
She had to laugh with him as his was so infectious. "No, I guess I'm not."
He rubbed a thumb on the back of her hand. "So we have that in common."
"Are we searching for common ground?"
"Of course. If you don't think we have anything in common, then you won't accept my dinner invitation."
"What dinner invitation is that?"
"The one I'm going to extend before your beer goes flat."
She glanced down and realized that she hadn't taken another sip. The foam had gone. Odd. She always enjoyed a fresh Guinness, but now it wasn't so fresh. She took another gulp anyway. "Guess I lost track of time."
"Good. It means you are enjoying yourself. You've stopped looking at the door as an escape, too. So how about dinner? Friday night?"
She reviewed her schedule. She had to get to the fence on Friday, but dinner would be later than that in true New York style.
"Sure."
"Don't sound so enthusiastic," he said. But his smile softened the snark of the words.
"Should I jump for joy?"
"No, but your reticence is challenging to me. I bet you have a strong lock on our heart."
She couldn't help but flirt back. "And do you plan on picking that lock?"
"No, I plan on charming you so that you will open it yourself."
***
Donna stared at her computer screen the next day not seeing the numbers on it. She'd found herself doing that more than once this morning. She had to stop.
"Earth to Donna," Kelly said, startling her out of her reverie.
Her assistant stood right by her desk and Donna had not heard Kelly come in. She held two paper bags that from the smell of them had Chinese food inside.
"Is it lunch already?" Donna said. Her stomach rumbled.
To Donna, breakfast had just happened. Her coffee sat cold on her desk. She cleared the top of her desk.
Kelly put the sacks on Donna's desk. "Yes, my dear and I don't think you've touched that keyboard in an hour. What is up?"
Donna shook herself. Her mind had wandered to her encounter with Jon last night. She could not get him out of her mind. Never had a guy so entranced her. She must be losing it.
"Must be a guy," Kelly said, unpacking the food. She smiled a knowing smile.
A frown creased Donna's face. "Why do you think that?"
Kelly paused in her unpacking to give her boss an incredulous look. "Because no woman looks like you do over anything else."
Donna thought up a lie then decided to come clean. "Okay it is a guy. I met last night. Had a drink with him."
"Give me the deets," she said, picking up her lunch and settling into the chair opposite Donna.
"Like what? His name's Jon."
"Where did you meet? Things like that."
Donna could not reveal the location. She didn't have a plausible story for being in Tribeca. "Where doesn't matter. We went for a drink then he asked me to dinner."
"It has to be way more interesting than that for you to be staring at your screen all morning," Kelly said.
Donna was not sure how much she wanted to share with her friend. This was pretty personal for her. Especially because she wasn't sure if she wanted a relationship. But Jon had not been out of her mind for most of the day. She'd even dreamed a hot, steamy dream about him.
"He's an art dealer," she said finally. That was a detail she was willing to give up.
"And you love art. What a match. Are you going to see him again?"
Kelly looked at her with rapt attention making Donna uncomfortable. She'd never been one of those women who shred every aspect of her life.
"We're going to dinner tomorrow night."
"Where?"
Donna held up her hand to stop the interrogation. "Maybe you need to get a date so that you aren't so fascinated by mine."
"You are no fun," Kelly said, frowning. "I tell you all about my dates."
She picked up her lunch. "I just like my private life private."
"I'm not posting it on Facebook. We're just talking in the office. What does he look like?"
Donna pictured Jon's face. He was one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen. She tapped her chin with her fork. "He's cute."
A groan escaped Kelly. "Cute? A puppy's cute."
Donna frowned. "You're making more of this than there is."
"No, I'm not. If he was not a big deal, you'd tell me everything."
Maybe she was right. Maybe Donna was making more of this than there was. Though she hadn't had anyone invade her thoughts the way Jon had. She shrugged it off. Dinner then he'd probably lose interest in her.
***
The pawn shop had several customers when Donna arrived with her booty. She hoped Derek had an answer for her on the egg. The necklace wouldn't be so challenging.
After waiting a few minutes, Derek entered the back room with a big grin on his face. "Got a place for that egg."
"Nice," Donna said. "Was it much trouble?"
"Not trouble, just challenging." He shrugged. "I was up for a good challenge."
"Are you going to have some feds on your doorstep?"
He sat at the table across from her. "Nope. I'm better than that." He slid an envelope to her he'd been holding. "Here's your money."
He'd already taken out his commission. "Did you charge me a bigger percentage?"
"Yeah, I had to. I knew you'd understand."
"We do good business together."
She counted it. Six thousand dollars. A good down payment on a newer car. A smile lifted her lips.
"You are happy. I can tell," Derek said.
"I am."
"You have something else for me?"
She nodded, pulling out the diamond necklace. "Not so hard this time."
"That's okay too. Easy pay days are good, too." He pulled out a loupe to examine the piece. "I'm guessing the main stone is 4 carats with ½ carat diamonds around it. Gorgeous."
He put it carefully on the table then rubbed his head. That meant he was calculating what he should pay her.
"What can you get for it?"
He rubbed his shaved head. "I think three thousand. I'll take my usual ten percent. This item isn't unique like the egg."
"Sounds good. Get it done, please."
"You in a hurry?"
Was she? "No. I'm not."
"I'll get you a receipt," he said standing.
With her receipt in hand, Donna left the pawn shop. Heading to the bank, she decided to deposit part of the money today and part on another day. That wouldn't raise suspicions.
"Hello, Donna."
She stopped on the sidewalk to see Jon coming the other way. What was he doing in this part of town? How would she explain her presence?
"Hi."
He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "What a pleasant surprise. Is your office near here?"
"Not really. I was just seeing a business client."
He looked up and down the street. "I guess even these businesses need to use an accountant."
She smiled, happy he wasn't asking too many questions. Her heart flipped in her chest to see him, and not just because she felt guilty. He really was a good-looking man.
"I can't stay and chat," he said. "I'm looking forward to tonight."
"I am too," she said as she watched him stride away.
That was a little close.
Chapter 3
Donna arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early. She insisted that she would meet Jon and he understood. She didn't like being dependent on her date to get her home. If the date went south, she could escape at any time.
Jon sat at the bar waiting for her.
Wearing another designer suit. She almost felt underdressed in her little black dress and strappy sandals. He stood when he saw her. This bar was less Bohemian than the one they'd had their first drink at.
He kissed her on the cheek. The contact put a thrill down her spine. She shivered.
His gaze traveled up and down her. "You look beautiful."
She couldn't resist smiling. "Thanks."
He indicated the seat at the bar next to him. She sat and smiled at him.
"What can I get you? Wine, champagne?"
"Champagne?"
He nodded. "Of course. Champagne."
"What are we celebrating?"
"Whatever you want," he said.
His eyes twinkled when he smiled. She couldn't stop looking at him. Not if her life depended on it. What was he seeing in her? His hand stroked her arm as she thought.
"Champagne then," she said finally, getting into the same spirit he was into.
Jon turned to the bartender. "Champagne for my lady friend."
The barkeep nodded then brought back a tall glass of the sparkling liquid. She held it up to touch glasses with Jon's that had a dark wine in it. "Cheers."
"Cheers," he said.
She sipped. "This is amazing champagne."
"Glad you like it. Vueve Cliquot."
The tiny bubbles danced on her tongue. She'd always enjoyed the finer things in life. "They keep that behind the bar?"
"No, I asked for it. Just in case you wanted champagne."
"And if I hadn't?"
"Then they could have put it back in the cellar."
How sweet. "You really thought about this date," she said.
"No, if I'd thought about it, I would have had a chef come and serve us in the gallery I own."
Her mouth went dry. How romantic that would have been.
"Wow."
His grin truly went from ear to ear. "I'm hoping I can get you to say that often."
"You are determined to sweep me off my feet."
"And you are reluctant to be swept. I see that as a challenge."
"What happens when the challenge is done?" she said, cocking her head.
He sipped his wine before answering. "I don't get bored that easily."
His gaze never left hers. In his eyes, she was the only person in the room.
The maitre'd came over breaking the spell momentarily. "Your table is ready."
Jon put his hand at the small of her back to guide her to the table. As if electrified, a spark jolted her. Not a bad spark. It didn't hurt her, just surprised her.
They sat. Someone handed Donna a menu. It contained no prices. Which meant she didn't want to know.
Good thing Jon was paying.
They'd been seated at a table for two in the window. The streetlights provided enough illumination for Donna to observe the people walking by.
Eventually Donna and Jon ordered and the waiter lef
t them alone.
Jon turned his sparkling smile her way. He showed straight white teeth that were probably the result of expensive orthodontia. "How was your day?"
"Pretty much the same as usual."
Except for the payoff from the egg. She couldn't tell him about that.
"You don't sound excited," he said.
She sipped her champagne thinking for a moment. Setting down her glass, she said, "It's not really exciting to other people. Most are bored by money."
"I'm not bored by it. Remember, I don't get bored."
She pondered that for a moment. "I know you said that, but we're on a first date."
"No, this is our second date. We had coffee or our first date."
He took her hand in his as if he'd been doing it his whole life. The feel of them together warmed Donna. She couldn't help, but smile and hoped she didn't look like a complete idiot.
"Okay, we are on our second date. We're still in that phase where we are trying to impress each other or at least not offend each other."
He squeezed her hand. "You don't have to impress me."
"That's not the point. You might be saying that you aren't bored by accounting just because we are new to each other."
His face twisted into a frown as he shook his head. "No, I'm not. I'm a businessman remember? I know all about numbers."
"Okay, I'll concede that you will probably understand ninety five percent of what I talk about, but it's still not that interesting."
"If it is interesting to you, that will come through when you talk about it. If you don't want to talk about work, that's fine, honey."
Honey?
She decided that she didn't mind him calling her that.
"Actually, no I don't want to talk about work. I think your work is probably more interesting."
Their appetizers came and they settled into eating a few bites.
"The part of my work that makes it, ahem, interesting is dealing with the artists. I have a business brain. They have a creative brain. Sometimes we don't communicate."
"For instance?" she asked.
"I've had artists approach me to do a show. I give them a slot say two months in the future. They tell me they can't possibly create under such strict deadlines." He whined the last few words.
"They want something more open-ended?"
He put down his fork, having finished his food. "Yes. They don't get that I have a business to run and need art all the time. And they don't like when I tell them that if they don't take the slot I have ten other artists willing to not sleep for two months to create enough art to fill my gallery."