Shame on Me

Walking through the door of Blake’s Seafood Restaurant, I scan my reflection in the mirror next to the hostess station. I know it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing since I plan on hiding in a corner and spying on Matt, but it’s impossible for me to go out in public without looking good. Every once in a while I’m recognized by a fan, which is actually a plus in this line of work, because the guy I’m trying to catch cheating would never suspect that I’m an investigator.

I kept it casual tonight with a royal blue cotton strapless dress that falls right above my knees with a matching pair of blue open-toed Gucci heels. Signaling to the hostess on the phone that I was just going to head to the bar, I make my way into the main part of the restaurant and to the corner of the bar closest to me. With my back to the wall and a drink menu up in front of my face, I peer over the top, scoping out the restaurant. I immediately spy Matt on the other side of the room in his own dark corner.

Mmm-hmmm, just what I thought. Hiding in a corner—all the better to make out with your mistress. Ordering a glass of white wine, I crouch low on my stool and keep an eye on Mr. Cheater McCheatpants.

After an hour, two more glasses of wine, and seven shredded cocktail napkins, my ass is starting to fall asleep on the bar stool and I actually catch myself yawning. This is pathetic. What kind of a cheater is this guy? All he’s done in the last sixty minutes is look at the screen on his cell phone and glance toward the door over and over again. Maybe his home-wrecker girlfriend stood him up. Serves the guy right.

Sliding off of the bar stool, I work out the kinks in my legs from sitting so long, staying close to the shadows in the corner. Turning back around quickly to make sure I don’t miss anything from Matt’s table, I slam right into a solid chest and my hands immediately press against it to steady myself. The smell of Burberry Touch cologne tingles my nose and butterflies flap rapidly in my stomach as I lift my head.

“Hey, you’re the woman from last night. Paige, right?”

Oh, shit. I’ve been made. Kennedy is going to kill me.

I stare into Matt’s eyes as he smiles down at me, his hands still holding tightly to my arms. It could be the wine talking right now, but Jesus, he’s really good-looking up close. He’s removed his glasses and his sparkling blue eyes are staring right down at my face, taking in everything he sees.

“What are the odds that we’d run into each other again?” Matt asks, the dimple in his left cheek forming when he cocks one side of his mouth up in a grin.

Oh, pretty good, considering I’m following you.

“It’s definitely a nice coincidence,” I tell him with a sultry smile. I don’t care if he smells like heaven and I have a weakness for dimples, I’m still here to do a job. Since I can no longer lurk in a dark corner and spy on him, maybe I can ply him with alcohol and get him to talk. It didn’t work last night, but he doesn’t seem as preoccupied as he did then. “Are you here alone?”

Matt nods his head and lets out a sigh. “I am. Is it pathetic that I’m sitting in the corner of a bar by myself on a Friday night?”

He laughs easily at himself and runs a hand through his hair, making the spikes messy, and for some reason I want to reach up and smooth them back down.

“Well, it looks like we’re both pretty pathetic tonight, since I was doing the same thing,” I tell him as I gesture over to my pile of shredded napkins on the bar next to my empty wineglasses.

“Several glasses of wine AND mutilated napkins. You must be having a bad week,” he laughs.

“One of my best friends fell madly in love and I have to go to a party later on tonight to toast to their happiness. Let’s just say it’s a good thing the bartender didn’t put any knives in front of me tonight.”

Matt chuckles and shakes his head. “Those napkins never stood a chance. At least now I know to keep sharp objects far out of your reach.”

A laugh bubbles up out of me before I can catch it. “I’m happy for them. Really, I am. I only think about stabbing my ex in the heart four times a day now instead of seven.”

“See? That’s progress right there. Pretty soon you’ll only be thinking about lighting all of his things on fire,” Matt replies with a chuckle.

“Oh, that ship has already sailed. You always burn their shit first, then you daydream about chopping off body parts.”

“I feel like this conversation escalated very quickly,” Matt says with another laugh and a raise of one eyebrow.

I have no idea why I even told him about Kennedy or Andy; it just spilled out of me. I’ve never spoken to subjects about anything other than how good they look and how much money they make. In this line of work, it’s always about them. Do whatever you can to make them feel special and important and they’ll be eating out of your hands in no time. It’s never taken me more than a few minutes to get a guy to show his true colors. A couple of seconds alone with Matt and I’m laughing and forgetting why I’m here.

Taking a deep breath, I slide my hands off of his chest and take a few steps back. I need to get into character.