she said, grinning, looking around.
“But quite typical. If you are looking for Bryan, he is not here. He is out of town. Again.”
“Where does he go?” she asked rhetorically then introduced Stash to Jessie, who was wide-eyed at the scene. Bryan had always been an adventurer, even as he seemed to love his restaurant. He came and went a lot, but his business thrived because he had a staff he could count on.
“You would like a table, eh?” Stash asked.
“Any family members here?”
“Not a one. The Elliott table is free.”
“What do you think?” Scarlet asked Jessie. “Table or the bar? How hungry are you?”
“Not very. The bar is fine.”
“Wait here a moment,” Stash said, then he approached the maître d’.
Scarlet had talked Jessie into borrowing an outfit from the closet of designer clothing at the magazine, but she hadn’t been able to talk Jessie into letting her hair loose from the braid she always wore. The black leather pants and turtleneck did give her a different look, a fashionable one. Even Scarlet, usually a standout because of the colorful outfits she often wore, was wearing black—a miniskirt, boots and belted leather jacket. Her hair was pulled up into an untidy knot. She considered the look as just another aspect of her personality.
Stash returned then pointed to a couple sitting at the very center of the long, black lacquered bar. “Stand behind them. They’ll be called in to dinner as soon as you make your way over there.”
Scarlet flashed him a smile. “You’re the best.”
He lifted Scarlet’s hand to kiss, and she fluttered her lashes playfully.
“When are you going to sleep with me and get me out of your system, ma chérie?” he asked, as he always did.
“Soon,” she answered, as she always did.
A few minutes later she and Jessie were seated at the bar, waiting for their drinks.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Jessie said in awe. “It’s like a movie. Red and black and sexy. And I love the copper-topped tables.”
“Maybe we’ll order something to eat later, so that you can taste how incredible their food is.” She smiled at the bartender when he placed an apple martini in front of her, then lifted her glass to Jessie. “To adventures in the big city.”
“I wish I could afford more of them. Someday. When I have a paying job. Every penny of my savings is budgeted. Thanks so much for this treat.”
“Keep performing well at Charisma, and you could be offered a paying job at the end of your internship.” She sipped her drink then looked around, making eye contact with a man at the end of the bar, who toasted her. She smiled but looked away, then realized she shouldn’t put up roadblocks, since Jessie might be interested. She decided to give him another chance, but Jessie’s words stopped her.
“There’s that man from the ad agency, John Harlan.”
Surprise pelted Scarlet from all sides. “Where?”
“At a table behind you, in the corner.”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to turn around. If he was with a woman, she didn’t want to know.
“He’s looking right at you. I think he knows I’m telling you he’s there,” Jessie said in an emphatic whisper.
“Hmm.” She took a long sip of her drink. He was courteous and would probably approach them at some point, especially since he and Jessie had taken note of each other. Scarlet would wait for him to initiate contact. Until then she could ignore the possibilities of whom he was with.
Maybe that blonde from the country club dance. She never had asked who that was.
“Is it true he was engaged to your sister?” Jessie asked.
Scarlet sighed. “They were engaged on Valentine’s Day, but Summer called it off a couple of weeks later, just about the time you were hired.”
“It must be weird for him, seeing you. Working with you, her identical twin.”
Tell me about it. She’d wondered at the beginning if she was only a substitute for her sister, a way to get Summer out of his mind, but she didn’t think that was true now. They had their own relationship. And while it was fun at times, she was always aware of the impending and necessary conclusion. They couldn’t even just date and see where things might go. Even if Summer—and their grandfather—could somehow accept it, because of Scarlet’s reputation, many people might assume that Scarlet had interfered somehow, even before Zeke Woodlow had appeared on the scene. It wasn’t worth the grief.
Or was it?
The man from the end of the bar approached, saving Scarlet from coming up with an answer. Late twenties, Scarlet decided. A little taller than she, blond and blue-eyed. He didn’t look overly sophisticated or jaded, which meant he might work as a flirtation for the still-naive Jessie. Diverting her attention from watching John was a good idea.
“I’ll bet you’re sisters,” the man said.
Scarlet met Jessie’s gaze. She looked startled, but Scarlet smiled. “Coworkers,” she said.
“I’m Rich.”
“Money doesn’t matter to me,” Jessie said sincerely.
Scarlet grinned. “I think he means his name is Rich. That’s Jessie. I’m Scarlet.”
“I know who you are,” Rich said to Scarlet, his hand resting on the back of her bar stool, almost touching her. “I saw your picture in the newspaper with Zeke Woodlow.”
Scarlet angled closer to the bar. “That was an impersonator,” she said, trying to make light of it. It had actually been Summer, dressed in Scarlet’s clothes, made to look like a groupie. Scarlet held up her empty glass to the bartender.
“I’ll get that,” Rich said to the man.
“No, thank you.” She decided she didn’t want this guy around, after all. She caught Stash’s eye, then tipped her head slightly toward Rich. Stash headed her way.
“Mon petit choux,” he said, nudging Rich out of the way to kiss her, a little longer than was necessary for the ruse, Scarlet thought, wondering what John was thinking of the scene. “I apologize for keeping you waiting, ma chérie,” Stash continued, nuzzling her neck.
“Don’t do it again.” She leaned into him as he slipped an arm around her shoulders.
Rich was resourceful, however, and undeterred. He turned his attention on Jessie. “May I buy you a drink, um, Jenny?”
Jessie used her little straw to swirl her ice, then she slipped the straw in her mouth and pulled it out slowly, getting his attention. “You know, Rich, I believe my daddy would get a kick out of you.”
He looked ready to swagger. “He would?”
“In fact, he has a saying that would fit you to a T. He’d say, ‘That poor Rich. He’s got nothin’ under his hat but hair.’”
Scarlet had to set her drink down before the contents sloshed over the sides. Jessie’s handling of Rich showed she wasn’t quite as naive as she sometimes seemed.
“Bitch,” he said, low and furious. “You—”
Stash moved but was blocked by John, who snatched the glass out of Rich’s hand and thumped it on the bar next to Scarlet’s. “Time to find a new watering hole, partner,” John said, clamping a hand on his shoulder.
Rich glowered, but he left without comment, just a surly look.
“Are you okay?” John asked Jessie.
“I’m fine. Actually,