stop.” Juliet leaned across the table, and although her smile never wavered, her dark eyes glittered dangerously. “I don’t need to hear anymore.”
“Why is your number written in the back of this book?” Sara glanced around to ensure they couldn’t be overheard, and lowered her voice. “Are you running a sex ring?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what is your connection to Colette? You can’t deny that you know her.”
“Colette does work for me,” the other woman acknowledged, “but it’s not what you think.”
“Then explain it to me, please, because from where I’m sitting, it certainly looks like she was selling her services.”
Juliet sighed and then sat back in her chair to consider Sara for a moment. “I run a business that caters to an exclusive clientele, men who are willing to pay outrageous sums of money to have their fantasies come true.”
Sara raised her eyebrows. “Sexual fantasies?”
Juliet gave a dismissive wave of her fingers. “Don’t be ridiculous. That would be illegal. We sell fantasies, but our services only include role-playing. Our clients pay a fee for us to create a realistic illusion of romance or seduction, but the girls are expressly prohibited from having sex with the clients.” She shrugged. “And if they do, it’s strictly consensual and has nothing to do with the business arrangement.”
“What’s the name of this fantasy-come-true business?” Sara asked drily.
“I called it the Glass Slipper Club,” Juliet replied. “Appropriate, don’t you think?”
Sara smiled faintly, recalling Colette’s observation that she had resembled Cinderella running from the ball on the night of the car crash. “You’re speaking in the past tense.”
“Yes, I am. I’ve wanted to travel for some time now, and I’ve decided to put the fantasy-come-true business behind me.” She gave Sara a meaningful look. “It’s not worth ruining my life for.”
Sara looked at the other woman, noting the fine webbing of lines around her dark eyes. While there was no question that Juliet was still a beautiful woman, she wasn’t getting any younger. Despite her composure, there also seemed to be a vulnerability to her, as if she’d been through some tough times. Did she really want to publicize a story that could destroy her life? Who was Sara to pass judgment on what occurred between consenting adults?
She sighed deeply and passed a hand over her eyes, undecided. After a moment, she pushed the little black book across the table toward Juliet. “Look, why don’t you take this?”
Juliet’s eyebrows lifted, and Sara thought she saw grudging admiration in their dark depths. “Really? Why would you want me to have it? After all, you could have some of the most powerful men in Washington eating out of your hand with the information this book contains.”
Sara gave a self-deprecating smile. “Let’s just say that I’m not as hungry as you believed me to be.” She gave the book a small nudge. “Please. Take it.”
To her astonishment, Juliet pushed back from the table with both hands raised. “Oh, no. Thank you very much, but as I said, I’m putting the fantasy-come-true business behind me.”
Sara frowned. “Because of me?”
Juliet laughed. “Goodness, no.” She sobered. “I have people much scarier than you to worry about. People who tap my phone and watch my townhouse from the comfort of their big, black sedans.”
Sara felt a frisson of alarm shoot through her and she was helpless to prevent herself from glancing over to the spot where she had seen the stranger. He was still there, but now he was talking on his cell phone and looking out over the gardens. Had she imagined him watching her? Was he just another tourist, or did he have a more sinister reason for lingering near the café?
“Who do you think is watching you?” she finally asked, dragging her gaze away from the man.
Juliet shrugged. “The Feds, most likely.” Sara watched as she opened her pocketbook and reached inside. “Which means it’s time I put the Glass Slipper Club behind me and move on with my life. But you’re involved, now, whether you want to be or not.”
Sara gave an astonished laugh. “I’m not involved with anything, trust me.” She picked up the planner and thrust it toward the other woman. “And if you’ll just take this back, I’m going to pretend none of this ever happened.”
But Juliet refused to touch the book. “Darling, you became involved the moment you called my number. Even if you hadn’t provided your name, the people who are monitoring my phone will have traced the call back to you.” She gave Sara a sympathetic smile. “Trust me—you’re involved. As for that book, I really don’t want it, and since it’s unlikely I’ll ever see or hear from Colette again, there’s really no point in giving it to me.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late and I have a plane to catch.”
She rose to her feet and Sara did the same. “Where will you go? And what should I do with the book?”
“Personally, I’d love to see the contents of that book printed on the front page of the Washington Post, but that’s just me.” Seeing Sara’s expression, Juliet gave a small laugh that had a bitter edge to it. “Don’t look so scandalized. Why shouldn’t the men involved bear some of the censure? History has shown that it’s never them who suffer when their indiscretions are exposed, it’s the women.” She drew in a deep breath. “As for where I’ll go? Someplace far, far from here. I’m sure you recall what happened to the last madam who threatened to expose the names of her clients. Well, that’s not going to be me. I’ve no intention of being found hanging in some backyard shed.”
Juliet reached into her pocketbook and pulled out a set of keys, but they slipped through her fingers and dropped onto the flagstoned terrace. Sara bent to retrieve them in the same instant that Juliet also crouched down, and as she reached for the keys, the other woman thrust something into her hand.
“Take this and put it somewhere safe,” she whispered fiercely. “A safety deposit box, perhaps.”
Sara opened her fingers to see a small computer memory stick in her palm. She frowned. “What is this?”
Juliet smiled and picked up her keys. “Consider it a form of insurance.”
“Insurance for what?”
Standing up, Juliet pulled her purse over one shoulder, watching as Sara pushed to her feet. “For your life, my dear.” Without another word, she turned and made her way across the crowded terrace and disappeared through the front exit of the café.
Slowly, Sara sat down at the table and considered the memory stick. What secrets did the small device hold, and why did Juliet want to share them with her? She considered Juliet’s claim that the Feds were watching her. Were they now watching Sara?
Involuntarily, her gaze slid back to the man in the sunglasses. The late-afternoon sun had dipped just low enough to slip beneath the edge of the patio umbrella, and Sara had to shield her eyes to see where he stood. He was still there, but he’d been joined by a woman and a little girl. Even as Sara watched, he lifted the child into his arms, wrapped an arm around the woman’s shoulders and walked away, following the graveled path deeper into the gardens.
Sara gave a huff of laughter, feeling a little foolish over her earlier suspicions of being watched. She was letting Juliet’s flair for the dramatic get the better of her. There was nobody watching her. Her life was in no danger. Leaning over, Sara opened her handbag and tucked the memory stick into a small, zippered side pocket where it wouldn’t get damaged or lost. She’d take a look at it later, when she got back to her apartment.
“Miss Sinclair?”
Snapping upright, Sara blinked and found herself staring at the imposing silhouette of a man. For just