Rad’s eyes returned to his face, and Jed knew that he was noting the single diamond he wore in his right ear. Often it was the little things that meant the most in a disguise. With his knack for sizing up people, Rad would never associate an earring or a pinkie ring with Jed Calhoun.
Rad beamed a smile at him. “You’re a Brit, right?”
Jed nodded. “The accent gave me away?”
“The clothes, too,” Rad said as he began leading the way to the table. “American men have never developed the knack for dressing well. I love the tie, by the way. Mind telling me where you got it?”
“Harrods,” Jed said.
“Figured as much,” Rad said. “I’m very fond of ties. I suppose the shopping over there is better, too.”
“Much,” Jed agreed amiably as they reached the table.
Rad nodded knowingly. “Now if you’ll just describe your friend to me?”
“He’ll ask for me by name,” Jed said.
As Rad hurried away, Jed picked up one of the menus, but even as he did, he had the peculiar sensation that someone was watching him. As his muscles began to tense, he willed them to relax.
There was no one who could have followed him. After Ryder had dropped him off at union Station, he’d taken a series of taxis before he’d arrived at the Woodbridge, and he’d made the same maneuvers coming to the Blue Pepper. It had to be Gage. Evidently, his old friend was already here.
Setting down the menu, he slowly scanned the crowd in the restaurant. Gage was a tall man with a rangy build, dark hair and intelligent eyes. He had a knack for being able to fade into a crowd, but if you met him in a dark alley, he was someone you wouldn’t want to mess with.
It had been three years since he’d last seen his old friend, but none of the men he saw in the waiting area earned a second glance. Casually, he shifted his gaze to the bar and instantly, his eyes collided with Zoë McNamara’s.
For a moment, he froze as questions and emotions tangled inside of him. What was she doing here? Had she recognized him? Even more disturbing to him were the feelings that seeing her had immediately sparked.
Desire was paramount. Making love to her hadn’t done a thing to dampen what he felt for her. In fact, it had turned what might have been simple attraction into a craving. In the two days that they had been apart, he’d decided something. He was going to have Zoë again, but not until he’d cleared his name. In the meantime, he wasn’t going to go anywhere near her because, if he did, he would put her in grave danger.
He also felt a hint of surprise. There was something different about her. She was wearing her hair down, and it fell in a shining sweep to her shoulders. The clothes were different, too. She was wearing a lace-edged top that looked more like lingerie than something a woman would wear out to a bar. Was she meeting a man?
Jealousy twisted in his gut like a claw. A quick look assured him that she was completely surrounded by women. He recognized Sierra first, then her sisters, and two other women he’d met at Ryder’s engagement party a week ago. Only then did the twisting in his gut ease.
How long had he been staring at her? He knew it had likely only been for a moment. But she was looking at him as if he were something smeared on a slide. Did she recognize him?
No. The disguise was good. Rad hadn’t penetrated it close-up, so surely she couldn’t have from a distance.
Slowly, Jed shifted his gaze back to the reservation desk. Gage stood at one side talking to Rad. Keep your mind on business, Jed reminded himself. If everything went as planned, Gage would join him at the table, hand over an envelope with the floor plan of Bailey Montgomery’s office building, and any other information Ryder might need. Then they would have a friendly drink together and each go their separate ways.
But Gage didn’t come toward the table. Instead, he made his way into the crowded bar. Jed’s hand fisted in his lap. Something was definitely wrong.
7
“ZOË?”
With a little start, Zoë blinked and shifted her gaze to Sierra who sat on the bar stool next to hers. “What?”
Sierra leaned close and pitched her voice to be heard over the din of conversation bombarding them from all sides. “George asked if you want more wine.”
It was only then that Zoë noticed that the bartender was holding a bottle over her nearly empty glass.
“I know you have a preference for crisp white wines, and this one is a very good vintage,” George said.
“No, thanks.” Zoë tried to gather her thoughts.
“You all right?” Sierra asked when George moved away. “You were a thousand miles away.”