His grin grew wider and he winked. “I always know where you are.”
“Okay, stalker. Don’t make me have to get a restraining order.” I winked back and grabbed my purse. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Do you have your gun?”
I patted my purse. “It’s just like my Chapstick, I never leave home without it.”
Once out the door, I hurried to the elevator and checked my phone; I wasn’t late yet. When the doors opened, there Diane stood, dressed in a pair of khaki dress pants and a nice top. Even dressed like a normal person you could tell she was a woman of power. That was where I fooled people. Most wouldn’t believe I was an FBI agent or that I’d killed before. To them I was just an innocent looking redhead who wouldn’t harm a fly. Little did they know I’d squash any bug that came my way.
“Diane,” I called, waving.
She turned my way, her smile brightening. “Look at you! I like your top. I designed one almost similar. When we go to my shop I’ll let you pick one out. But I have to say, the green looks great with your hair.”
“Thanks. So what are we doing today?” I followed her outside to a shiny, silver Mercedes waiting by the door.
She put on her sunglasses and walked around to her side. “Get in and you’ll see.”
When I got in the car, it still smelled new. “New car?” I asked.
She laughed. “Not really. I just never drive it. William got it for me after I had my hysterectomy. He thought it would make me feel better.”
“And does it?”
“I don’t know yet. That’s what I’m going to figure out. You hungry?”
“Starved.” My stomach growled, proving my point.
“Great! There’s this small café I like to eat at. It’s nothing fancy, but on Mondays they make their broccoli and cheese quiche. It’s to die for.”
It only took about fifteen minutes to get there and when we walked in, the young hostess immediately sat us at a table in the back. “Do you and Mr. Randall always get special treatment everywhere you go?” I asked matter-of-factly.
She chuckled. “Only at the places we own, darling. I’m not one to like stomping on others just to get ahead. Sometimes we have to wait just like everyone else.”
I glanced around the café, at the quaint doilies and the shimmering crystal glasses. It reminded me so much of the restaurant we had at the bed and breakfast. “You own this place?”
“I do.”
“Wow,” I uttered in amazement. “You and Will own a lot. How did you get started?”
“Basically, I had money and William had brains. Before his company even got started, I had the clothing line that’s now extended to other cities and this restaurant. My family gave him some money to invest and he just kept earning it back. It amazes me how resourceful he is.”
The hostess came back, smiling cheerfully. “Have you had a chance to look over the menu?” she asked.
“I haven’t, but I heard the broccoli and cheese quiche is to die for. I’ll have that and a glass of iced tea, please.”
Giggling, she took my menu. “I see Mrs. Randall’s turning you over to the dark side. Once you’ve had our quiche you’ll come back for more.”
She strolled off and Diane smiled. “If you work for me, we can come here every Monday.”
“I sense you’re not going to give up easy, are you?”
Averting her gaze, her smile faded slightly. “I just think you owe it to yourself to explore other talents . . . safe ones.”
“I’ll think about it.” It wasn’t exactly a lie because my real job was dangerous, but I had lots of other options to choose from in my field. With the way I was making money in Vegas, I could live off of that for a few years and not worry about a thing.
Once our food came, all talk ceased until we finished our lunch and headed out the door. I could tell Diane felt like she overstepped a boundary. If only she knew I wasn’t really a prostitute. “Do you still want to see my shop?” she asked.