But like it or not—these sting operations were part of the job. And Lacy would be damned if she didn’t give each one a hundred and ten percent.
“Holy hell!” Quin dropped her camera the second Lacy answered the door, her eyes bugging out like a cartoon as she looked her up and down. “You look incredible!”
They had agreed to meet up at the house before proceeding on to the restaurant. Lacy usually took the pictures herself, but with Sarah out of the picture, the roles had been switched and the task fell to Quin. (A task that had worked her into unprecedented levels of excitement.)
“And you...dressed up like Dylan Bourne.”
Lacy’s eyes widened in dismay as they swept the receptionist up and down. When she had been told to remain ‘incognito,’ the girl had clearly taken it to heart. Black boots. Black pants. Black shirt. Black jacket. And as if that wasn’t enough—
“Please tell me you’re not actually going to wear that beanie.”
Quin slid it guiltily off her head, flushing a million shades of red. “I thought it went with the whole undercover thing. You know—urban camouflage?”
Heaven help me.
“Honey, the whole point of going undercover is blending in.” Lacy quickly reached inside to her coatrack and handed her an ivory blazer instead. “Do you think anyone else in the restaurant is going to be dressed like a dystopian bounty hunter?”
“...maybe.”
“Put on the damn blazer.”
Quin slipped it over her shoulders (secretly relieved she hadn’t gone with her original plan and charcoaled her face), and took back the camera with a rueful grin. “Seriously though Lacy, you look totally amazing. This guy isn’t going to know what hit him.”
Lacy smoothed down her new dress with a sudden flutter of nerves.
“Yeah, well, that’s the general idea...”
She might not do this sort of thing often, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t played the part of the potential mistress many times over the last few years. Enough times that she and Sarah had adopted a set of unofficial rules. Rule number one: spend none of your own money.
It was a rule Lacy had broken that day.
Unwilling to go back to her house in case Logan was waiting there to apologize, she’d gone for a little retail therapy instead—hitting up stores she usually only fantasized about on the weekends. First up was the dress. A devilish little number of crimson silk that clung to her skin like it had been painted there instead. It stopped just a few inches below her thighs, while the neckline stretched almost all the way down to her navel. Needless to say, it wasn’t a dress that was meant to be worn very long. The shoes were towering, seven-inch stilettos. The impractical kind that she regularly scoffed at other women for wearing, but found herself strangely drawn to that day. The makeup was dark and smoky. Charcoaled eyes and dark red lips.
“You know,” Quin continued conversationally, “if this whole ‘private investigator’ thing fizzles out, you could always consider a career as a high-priced escort.”
The smile melted off Lacy’s face, before she smacked the girl upside the head.
“Let’s just get this over with...”
Chapter 17
The Metropolitan was a classic. One of Cleveland’s finest. But it wasn’t the prestige of the restaurant that made the women use it again and again. It was the location. Less than a stone’s throw away from Glitter—Lacy’s favorite club. A perfect place to lose an unwanted date.
“Okay—you ready?”
Lacy was the one walking into the lion’s den, but it was Quin who was getting all the reassurance. The young assistant had long dreamt of being ‘out in the field,’ but now that the moment was upon them, her nerves were starting to get the better of her.
“Uh...yeah. Yeah—I’m totally fine. Totally ready.”
Lacy pursed her lips doubtfully, looking the girl up and down.
“Look, there’s really nothing to it, okay? You’re going to get a booth by yourself in the corner—somewhere you can see me—and take pictures without a flash. If anything should happen, I’ll do the secret signal, and we’ll both get out of there. Meet up around back.”
Quin’s face paled, as her fingers trembled nervously upon the camera.
“And what’s the secret signal again?”
Lacy shifted impatiently.