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frequented Diogenes more often than here, this would explain why he hadn’t been familiar to the bouncer. Mia gaped at Jake, not having guessed he was so flexible in his preferences. He noted her glance but the inferences she was drawing didn’t seem to fluster him.
    Not that Jake gave away that sort of thing.
    “Gabriel,” he greeted the waiter, the name fitting. He touched Mia’s shoulder. “As you can see, I’ve brought a friend.”
    “But … it’s Thursday .”
    This seemed to be important. Was it because Damien Call came on Thursdays? Or was there another reason the day was significant?
    “Some friends are worth showing off,” her escort said smoothly.
    The curly haired young man shook his head but recovered. “Shall I tell Management you’re here?”
    “Thank you,” Jake said. “That would be convenient.”
    Gabriel held their chairs while the second waiter set out a fresh bouquet of dewy-fresh, garden-grown pink roses. Jake didn’t bat an eye at the fussing. He ordered wine without looking at a list—something French, she thought. The wine was for her. Gabriel brought whiskey with a separate glass of rocks for Jake. The chunks of ice looked artistic, liked they’d been chiseled from a larger block individually. Jake dropped one into his drink with a pair of tongs.
    He smiled at her expression. “Didn’t know I was this worldly?”
    Here at last was a question she could answer. “I knew you were worldly. Just not cosmopolitan.” Since he’d given her an opening to speak, she drew breath for a few more words. “May I ask where Call is?”
    Jake’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t reprimand her boldness. “He’s probably in that corner near the stage on the highest tier. That’s his reserved table.”
    The elevated platform was shadowy. Mia made out the shape of a tall well-built male in the single chair, leaning back casually. She found it difficult to connect the hockey player in the stained jersey with this icon of elegance. Call’s perfectly tailored dinner jacket fit as naturally as a second skin. Light fell across his left sleeve, gleaming on a snowy cuff with a bright silver link. His hand rested on a nearly full champagne flute, his graceful fingers as long as a pianist’s. He held himself motionless—regally, she might have said. She noticed other eyes sliding in his direction, so perhaps he was still because he was self-conscious.
    “Have you met him?” she couldn’t resist asking.
    “Not directly.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Hush now. Management is coming.”
    Management was a beautiful dark-skinned woman in an incredible turquoise gown. The sparkling garment wasn’t simply designed; it was designed for her. Its cloth flowed down her tall slim body like water.
    Jake stood and greeted her.
    “Mr. Reed,” she said, accepting his polite kiss. “What a pleasant surprise.”
    Mia noted he didn’t respond with a name for her. He smoothed the front of his black silk shirt. “I hope you don’t mind me showing up unannounced.”
    “Goodness, no. We’d given up on seeing you on a Thursday, you being such a private practitioner.”
    Her emphasis was subtle, but Mia still heard it.
    “Sometimes new toys require new approaches.”
    Did he mean her? Mia looked up at him. Though he didn’t glance down, his hand dropped onto her back, where the cutouts in her dress bared skin. She wasn’t sure, but she thought his thumb and index finger were playing with her hair.
    “She certainly is new,” Management agreed, a hint of doubt in her cultured voice. “Almost too new, if I’m not mistaken.”
    “She’s obedient. So far anyway. And better coaxed than broken, to my thinking.”
    “And you intend to ‘coax’ her here?” The woman’s skepticism was obvious.
    “If you’re amenable. You know my reputation. I’m not one to harm anyone.”
    Management pursed her lips. “She knows what you’ve planned?”
    “I thought it best not to give her a chance to worry. Not that it