Kathleen O'Reilly - New York Nights - Shaken and Stirred

A trip to Sephora killed two nights’ worth of tips, but in exchange, she was now in possession of the handiwork of the devil.

Makeup.

Mascara, concealer, an eyelash curler, pressed powder, lip gloss, eye shadow, liner, foundation and four high-dollar tubes of lipstick. Tessa lined them up in a neat little row and studied them all carefully, taking note of what she was about to do.

Today she was moving one necessary step closer to the dark side, using tools designed to make women more appealing to men. Makeup was worn by women who lived with men, women who needed men to support them, women who needed male approval in order to feel fulfilled as a woman.

Women like Marisa.

Marisa, who was going to get her into Hudson Towers. There, Tessa felt her sense of resolve return.

Hudson Towers. A place to go home to after a hard day’s work, with no worries about tomorrow. She could look at the New York skyline and know that she had conquered them all.

That was power.

That was success.

Tessa smiled as though she were happy.

After utilizing the handiwork of the devil, she stared at herself in the mirror and decided that, yes, that devil was one smart dude. She looked awesome. Except for the hairstyle—or lack thereof.

Tomorrow she would get her tattoo removed. But then she pulled at the waist of her jeans, looked at the scarlet letters and decided that, no, she was going to keep it until she passed her real-estate exam. After that, the tattoo was gone. History. And her transformation would be complete.

As she went on the subway, she noticed the looks in men’s eyes, the envy from women, too. She turned in her application, paid the fees in cash, and said thank you to the lady at the desk as if she had the world at her feet.

The woman was polite and smiled, until the next lady showed up behind Tessa with strappy heels, head-turning lipstick and a killer hairstyle.

Tessa knew she didn’t have a choice. She was going to make over her life, her face, her feet and, yes, her hair. After that, she could have dessert. Namely on Gabe O’Sullivan à la mode.

She sped into a salon that she normally couldn’t afford, but this was for her career. She was changing her life, and the usual discount place wasn’t going to cut it anymore.

By the time she left, Francois had turned her into a veritable swan. And, sadly, because she needed to show it off, and Marisa wouldn’t understand, and her family was in Florida, she had no place to go but Prime.

Tessa hesitated outside the place, feeling nervous and foolish, but so what? She needed someone to tell her she looked good. She needed Gabe to tell her she looked good.

She pulled open the heavy door and walked in as if she owned the joint, which she didn’t.

Sean whistled and Charlie adjusted his glasses.

Gabe smiled.

Not wanting to tempt fate, she sat in front of Sean.

“I could have sex with you,” he said. “I just need to get that out in the open. Not that I want you to think I’m a shallow SOB whose head gets turned by a long neck and a great ass, but I can’t help who I am, and I believe in being honest and up front with women. So they know exactly what they’re getting. Besides a good time, I mean.”

“Thank you,” Tessa said primly.

It took thirty-three minutes for Gabe to approach her. She kept track. “You look good,” he said when Sean went off to get a phone number from some woman nearby.

“Thank you,” she said, basking in his warmth for only a little bit. She had always loved the beach.

“Ready for class?”

“I’ve been studying.”

“You don’t need to study for this. You can do apartment rentals and sales in your sleep.”

“Maybe. But the class isn’t about which buildings allow pets. I have to know contracts and finance and insurance and equal-opportunity laws.”

“You’ll still do fine. Any luck with the roommate situation? The phone’s been quiet.”

“I think I found a place. Should come open in about three weeks.”

“Really?”

“And I’ll be living single,” she said proudly.

“Very nice,” he said, but he didn’t look happy.

“Yeah. Finally. It’s only been twenty-six years.”

“You’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

“Yes, yes, I do. For the first time in my life I have something to celebrate. I’m going to head out now. Test out my new look on somebody else besides these losers.”

“That’s a good idea. Head over to the Carlyle. Classy place. Elegant. Like you.”

“I think I will. I’ve never been in there before.”

She could feel him watching her as she walked out the door.

Tessa smiled. Maybe it would be okay after all.

GABE LEFT SEAN IN CHARGE of closing, which was normally a recipe for disaster, but tonight he didn’t care. Tessa needed him and he knew it. She wasn’t a woman to go sit in bars alone like Marisa. She’d start talking to some used-car salesman from Omaha who was away from his wife for the first time in twenty years. And he’d want to get laid and he’d monopolize Tessa’s time for four hours until it was last call, and then she’d feel bad, but tell the guy no, and he would get all pissed off at her and yell, and Tessa didn’t need that kind of crap.

So Gabe took a quick shower, pulled out the black pants and shirt that he kept in the back of his closet for special nights and headed for the Carlyle.

He saw her immediately, sitting at the bar, a middle-aged toupee type sitting three seats away, giving her the eye.

Gabe sighed. When he was right, he was right.

He leaned against the wall, content to watch her for a while. There were women who took your breath away, and then there were women who were pure oxygen. That was Tessa.

Another lowlife hit on her, and she smiled politely, buying the loser a drink only because she felt sorry. Another lowlife came up, a little more forceful than the last, and her perfectly shaped brows curved downward, signaling a woman in need of rescuing.

Cue Gabe.

“Hi,” he said, taking the seat next to her.

Tessa looked up, her eyes startled, and she began to say something—probably no , but he wasn’t going to give her a chance. Gabe put a finger on her mouth. Tonight they’d do things her way. “No. We’ve never met.”

For a second she looked at him the way he’d dreamed she would look at him. Her green eyes were soft and filled with things that a used-car salesman from Omaha would never understand. Yes, there were definite advantages to doing things her way.

“Why are you drinking alone? A beautiful woman like you? You should have dozens of men buying you drinks, but instead you’re buying them all drinks. If you worked in a bar, you’d know this. That’s not the way it’s supposed to be.”

“If wishes were horses…”

“Can I get you something to drink, Miss I-Can’t-Follow-the-Rules? Maybe some champagne? Or a cosmopolitan. You’re looking very cosmopolitan tonight.”

She shook her head. “No champagne. Diet soda, I think.”

“You must be a lightweight.”

“No, champagne sounds flat.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, wishing it were perfect. She should have perfect.

“Don’t be.”

“What are you celebrating?”

She tried to smile at him. “Being alone.”

“Bad breakup?”

“It hurt.”

Gabe told himself to be careful. With the look in her eyes, the tight curve of her lips, he could easily forget about taking things slow. But this one answer he had to know. “Any regrets?”

“Nah,” she said, slaying him with a single word. “It had to be done.”

“You want me to leave?”

Her gaze scanned his face, up and down, back and forth, as if he were a piece of art and not a living, breathing man—although he was currently not breathing.