Page 2 of Maneater
“It absolutely isnot,” he roars.
“Of course, I’ll get you my manager right away,” Rory says, her blue eyes turning to me.
I give her a smile and then a tight one to my date before announcing, “I’m going to the bathroom to try and dry off.”
“I can come help—” Jackson attempts.
Ew.
“No, I think I can manage,” I say, grabbing my bag and my cell before moving toward the back of the restaurant. Once I’m in the dark hall, I go left to the kitchen instead of going right toward the bathrooms.
“Hey, Josie!” the chef says, then takes in my drenched clothes. “Looks like Rory got you good.”
“It was iced,” I grumble, moving toward the staff rooms as their laughs echo behind me. We use this location, owned by a friend of our boss, Gabriel, often, so the staff know what to expect when we’re here. Once in the break room, I grab the outfit Rory left for me and change, pinning my thankfully dry hair up with a clip before shrugging my bag over my shoulder.
Then I’m out the back door.
With my phone to my ear and keys in hand, I beep the lock to mycar as I make my call. When he picks up, I don’t wait for a response before speaking. “Mission accomplished. We’ll have a debrief and audio proof to you in...” I check my watch. “…four hours? Rory has the recordings, and her shift still has two more hours.” I smile at that, because at least I get to leave. She has to make her shift as a waitress seemrealistic.
“Good job, Maven. Go dry off. You’ll have your next assignment tomorrow.”
TWO
JOSIE
Rather than go home, I go to Opal, a high-end bar and nightclub in downtown Hudson City, to brush up on my skills. Going to an expensive bar to sit there, flirt, and see what kind of free drinks I can get from stupid men is far more entertaining than sitting at home.
An hour later when I’m two glasses into the most expensive champagne the bar carries, courtesy of the older man sitting next to me, I know my skills are working. He’s in the middle of explaining some golf game he had with some politician that’s supposed to impress me when his phone buzzes. He looks at it quickly before setting it back face down with an apologetic grimace.
“I’ll be right back,” he sighs, tipping his chin to the phone whose screen he has diligently hid from view since I sat down. “Work.”
“Hurry back,” I say, a sexy purr in my words. “I need to hear how the rest of the story goes.” He gives me a wide grin in response before walking off, though with the way he took his jacket with him, I can almost guarantee he won’t be returning. I shift my body to fully face the bar once more.
“Wife or girlfriend?” Carrie, the bartender, asks once he’s out ofearshot. She’s seen me play this game more times than I can count, seeing as how this bar is closest to my condo.
“Wife for sure.”
Carrie rolls her eyes and scoffs, wiping down the already pristine bar. “Gross.”
I shrug. “At least my drinks are on his tab.”
“Amen to that, my girl,” she says with a smile.
“You really don’t have to do that, you know,” a familiar deep voice says. It’s a good voice, the kind that rolls through you—a little dangerous like thunder in the distance, but bringing with it a warning of what’s to come.
When I turn, the lights behind him cast him in shadow, but I still know what—or rather, who—I’m dealing with. The man who keeps bumping into me at bars and restaurants across Hudson City while I’m on jobs and who has started to make a game out of riling me up. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was stalking me or something, but fortunately, I’m a Maven, and I do know better. If I had a stalker, Gabriel would be on it in a flash.
Rowan.
I’ve bumped into him a dozen times while on missions over the last year or so. Once, he was having dinner at Coastal with a group of men while I was determining if a stockbroker was being truthful on his resume, and another time, he was sitting at the bar when I was investigating fraud at a high-end pub. A good half dozen of those times, he’s come to the table for a while and made small talk with whoever I’m investigating, making me think he knows everyone in the upper crust of Hudson City. With his perfectly tailored suits and expensive watches, I think it’s safe to assume he is part of the upper crust himself.
I’ve never wanted to know much more than his name, though, not with the way he always looks down his nose at me, with the way he always gives the tiniest barbs that stick a little too deep. And with how my body responds to him in a way completely opposite to how my mind does, he could easily blow my cover on assignments.
“I’m sorry?” I ask, exasperation in my tone, though part of me is excited for the banter I know is impending.
He approaches, putting his hands on the back of the chair my company just vacated, before explaining. “Flirting with men to get your drinks paid for. You don’t have to do that.”
I give him an easy smile.
