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imagination. I twisted and turned inside the spacious cubicle to view myself from every angle. I couldn’t believe this little thing cost so much money. It looked pretty cheap if you asked me. Cheap as in trashy.
    “How’s it going?” Ian asked. Judging from how clearly I could hear him, he must be standing right outside the door. This dressing room had an actual door.
    I opened it to show him. He whistled and grinned.
    “Mmm, hot,” he said. “Though probably not right for the restaurant we’re going to. Try the other two.”
    I disappeared back inside and put on the red one, which was longer but equally as tight and with several cutouts that revealed lots of skin. I went back out to show Ian. He took me in while rubbing his chin for a long moment. Then he came up to me and ran a finger along the part of my waist that was bare. Goosebumps formed all over me and I took a step back.
    “Very sexy,” Ian whispered, “but not quite right either. Try the last one.”
    I scurried back inside my dressing room, annoyed with myself that I’d let on just how much Ian’s touch had affected me.
    I removed the red dress and replaced it with the last black one. When I looked at myself in the huge mirrors, I knew this was the one. It was just the right length, short enough to reveal lots of leg yet long enough not to ever be considered trashy. It was form-fitting but not so tight I could barely breathe and the décolletage revealed the right amount of breast.
    Knowing full well just how good I looked, I walked out with my chin held high.
    Ian’s chameleon eyes widened a touch as he saw me. “Now, that’s what I call a smashing dress. Take it off so I can pay for it.”
    After we had paid for it—that dress set Ian back six grand—we headed to the shoe department where Ian picked up two pairs of shoes for me, a pair of strappy ones and a pair of pumps. Neither he nor I could decide which ones fit better. Since he didn’t mind plunking down a thousand a piece for them, I didn’t object. Then we both had our nails done at the department store’s own salon. As mine were still drying, we jumped into a cab that took us to the hair stylist Ian had picked out where I also had my makeup done, per Ian’s insistence.
    At seven thirty, we were ready to head to Le Bernardin.

Chapter 4
    “Are you nervous?” Ian whispered in my ear as we walked toward the restaurant’s entrance.
    “Of course not,” I muttered back, lying. I was more nervous than I cared to admit even to myself and I wasn’t sure why. So what if our little mission failed? I could live without knowing exactly what these politicians were discussing, couldn’t I? It was no big deal if Ian didn’t manage to get that tiny recording device onto the table. He had yet to tell me exactly how he would plant it there without anyone realizing what he was doing.
    Just focus on your part of the assignment, he kept telling me when I asked about it.
    We walked through the sleek revolving glass doors and into the restaurant. I could instantly tell that Ian was comfortable in the softly lit, elegant surroundings. More comfortable than I was, like he belonged in extremely expensive establishments such as this one. Not that I originated from the hood or anything, but I wasn’t exactly born with a silver spoon in my mouth, either. My parents were solid middleclass people, both of them still working.
    We stopped at the hostess stand and Ian told the girl with the high ponytail behind it that we were about to have a bite in the lounge.
    Continuing into the lounge with its shiny, wood paneled walls and odd glass decorations, we took a seat at the end of the long bar. The deeper inside the lounge we were, the harder it’d be for Janine or any other unwanted person to spot us were they to venture in here. A male bartender sailed up and took our drink orders.
    “So what do we do now?” I asked Ian as soon as the bartender disappeared. “How do we find out if they’re at their