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serious money. And his fiancé, Carter Teague, is a knockout. He’s not going to jeopardize the marriage by having a fling with someone who could come back to haunt him.
     
    Who could come back to haunt him?
     
    A prostitute. A police decoy.
     
    Who else?
     
    Anyone in Carter Teague’s social circle or anyone even remotely connected to that world. In other words, I can’t play my usual role as the spoiled, party-loving daughter of a wealthy businessman. I have to be—not the opposite of Carter, but I have to act differently.
     
    I think about that a minute. A pretty face and a hot body will usually get a man’s attention. But what makes a guy like Joe Fagin cheat when he has everything to lose?
     
    Challenge, the thrill of the hunt, and ultimately, the conquest. Followed by no strings and zero chance of future contact.
     
    My plan will have to fit all these elements into a short time frame.
     
    Carter wore an off-the-shoulder leopard tunic, expensive jewelry, and runway sandals. I’ll want skinny jeans and a moderately-priced, fashionable top. I’m thinking my long-sleeve navy blouse with black leather trim. It’s tasteful enough to get me into Simon Claire’s restaurant, should I need to enter, and the jeans are naughty enough to demand Joe Fagin’s attention. The blouse is loose-fitting, a nice counterpoint to the tight jeans. Also, it has a boat neckline, which will encourage him to peek down it if I can create the proper angle.
     
    I visualize him sitting at the bar with me.
     
    No. Bar stools are too high. The visual angles are all wrong for bending down to pick up my purse. Of course, I could lean into him, which might give him a quick peek down my top. I’ll keep that in mind, but prefer the sight lines that come with him sitting at a table. Of course, I’ll need to make sure he’s facing the exit. I can bend down to pick up my purse (no, not the Gucci. Even if I’d bought it, which I didn’t, the Gucci’s too expensive for this job). I’ll carry a hundred-dollar faux leather drawstring satchel. When I bend to pick it up, he’ll get a quick flash of cleavage. I’ll turn and walk away with a natural gait, nothing exotic. It’s a biological imperative for men’s eyes to be drawn to a woman’s backside. If I do my job properly, Joe’s eyes will be on my ass like a cheap tattoo.
     

AN HOUR LATER I’m in my room at the Brundage, waiting for Carter Teague to call. I’m showered, dressed, ready to go. It’s six o’clock.
    Fifteen minutes later the phone rings.
     
    “You’re cutting it pretty close,” I say.
     
    “He checked in late. I wanted to make sure he was in his room before I enter the hotel. It wouldn’t do to run into him in the lobby or elevator.”
     
    “You’re spying on him?”
     
    “No, of course not. I told him to call me when he checked in. What’s our room number?”
     
    “You’re sixteen-twenty. I’m sixteen-twenty-two.”
     
    “Leave my door open so I don’t have to knock.”
     
    I do, and moments later she enters the room and closes the door behind her.
     
    “I hope I’m doing the right thing,” she says.
     
    There’s no reason for me to reassure or dissuade her, so I don’t respond. She uses the momentary pause to check me out.
     
    “You’re not dressed yet?”
     
    “This is what I’m wearing.”
     
    “You’re joking!”
     
    “You’ll have to trust me.”
     
    “You look like a college coed!”
     
    “In that case, we’re good to go.”
     
    She frowns. “Did you use none of the money I gave you to improve your wardrobe?”
     
    I feel my face flush. Carter’s wealthy, I’m not. She’s six years older, knows her fiancé, and I don’t. Still, I know I’m right.
     
    And yet she’s managed to intimidate me.
     
    “It almost sounds as though you want him to cheat,” I say.
     
    “Of course not! But I want to see him tested.”
     
    “He will be.”
     
    “For fifty-five hundred I was hoping to get your A