Stephanie Doyle - For the First Time

Mark stood to scope out hiding spots around the lobby where she could claim to be in his line of sight, but actually be hidden from view. The people working behind the desk hadn’t changed, so she hadn’t sneaked in that way. The family stood together, using the lobby computer. The boy had his back to Mark, so he couldn’t check for blue eyes. Instead Mark studied the shape of his back, his height.

Close. Definitely close to JoJo’s height. Had she paid the two people to pose as parents?

“Twenty-nine minutes. She’s so going to win.”

Mark shot Sophie a glance and started toward the kid. A motion in his periphery caught his attention. The woman on the phone had lifted a leg up behind her. He followed that beautiful leg to her shoes.

Not just high heels. Platform high heels. They raised her height by at least two inches.

Gotcha.

“Time is up. Who is she?”

Mark looked at his daughter. “Do you know?”

“I have my suspicions.” Her smile was smug.

Smiling. Sophie was smiling. Mark looked at the blonde again. She had turned and he briefly caught her eye, but she bent her head and continued talking into the phone.

“You think that’s her?” Mark pointed toward the kid.

Sophie’s face fell a little. She obviously thought JoJo was the boy, and that he had won. He wasn’t sure if Sophie was displeased that he had won or that JoJo had lost.

It had been a very short time for two people to make such a positive connection. There were worse things than his daughter liking someone Mark employed.

He was throwing the contest, but in all of the time he had spent with Sophie, this was the most fun they had ever had. Deliberately, he went over and tapped the kid on the shoulder. The boy turned around, his Adam’s apple clearly visible. “What?”

“Oh, sorry,” Mark said. “I mistook you for someone else.”

“Whatever.”

Ah, yes, Mark’s favorite word. The kid turned around and Mark could see the father shoot him a look, but Mark simply folded his arms over his chest and waited.

The blonde made her way to him sporting a victorious smile.

“Oh, my God, I totally did not guess that was you,” Sophie said hopping up and down on her toes with excitement. “How did you hide the tattoos?”

“A trick I learned from Hollywood actresses.” JoJo tilted her neck and peeled off a thin layer of beige tape. “They use this stuff when they’re filming.”

Effective, at least from a distance. Up close, Mark could see the faint outline of the tape on the other side of her neck. That was probably why she hadn’t used the adhesive during her interview.

“Not bad. Hiding in plain sight. It worked.”

“Did it?” JoJo asked. Their eyes met. She clearly knew she’d been caught. She wasn’t counting on Mark throwing the contest.

Sophie looked at him. “Yes, totally. You won the job. Right, Mark? I mean, you’re not going to back off the bet now?”

“Nope.” He put his hands into his pockets. “You won fair and square. Since today is Tuesday, you can take a few days to get settled. Be at the office at eight o’clock sharp next Monday and we’ll work out salary and what your billing rate will be.”

JoJo held out her hand and Mark shook it. Odd for such a small hand to pack such a firm grip. She was a study in contrasts.

“Sophie, why don’t you check the computer for restaurants. Find some place you want to eat.”

“Okay. You should invite JoJo. It can be like a celebration dinner for beating you.”

Sophie left him in a ridiculously awkward situation. He didn’t particularly want to have dinner with JoJo. He would need the next few days to come to grips with the fact that he was now working with her. Maybe dinner would help with that. Maybe he would find himself less uncomfortable after breaking bread together.

“Would you like to join us? Not sure what Sophie will pick, her tastes are rather eclectic. It could be burgers, it could be sushi or it could be Thai food.”

“Why did you let me win?”

Mark feigned confusion.

“You caught my eye, let me know you knew it was me. Then you tapped the kid on the shoulder. Why?”

“I guess I decided I wanted to hire you after all. Besides, it was a good costume. It almost had me fooled.”

“You looked at my legs,” she said. Not judgmentally, but merely as a statement of fact.

“That was the intention, wasn’t it? For me to look at them and not at you.”

“Yes. I want to make sure you’re not going to have an issue working with me. Maybe the problem isn’t the tattoos. Maybe the problem is I’m a woman.”

Mark laughed. “Trust me. That’s not the problem. I’ve worked with plenty of women in my career. Operatives and soldiers. I have nothing but respect for people who do their job and do it well, regardless of their gender.”

“Okay.” JoJo nodded slowly. As if reaching some conclusion about him.

“And if you’re worried about me being attracted to you, I can promise you that won’t be an issue.”

“Okay...” she drawled.

He realized he’d basically said she was unattractive. At least unattractive to him. What phrase had Sophie used? Douche bag? It seemed appropriate here.

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re a very attractive woman. I just... For me...”

“I get it.”

“Your legs were really distracting—”

“Mark, put a sock in it. This is actually a good thing. You’re not into me and I would never find someone like you attractive, either. So we’re cool. Business colleagues and that’s it.”

“That’s it,” Mark agreed. Although why the idea that she would never find someone like him attractive suddenly bothered him, he couldn’t say.

* * *

SOPHIE HAD GONE with Mexican. The restaurant was a small place off Market Street. Not a lot of ambiance but the waiter brought out a big basket of hot chips and spicy salsa. Combined with a margarita and JoJo had all a girl needed to be happy in life.

For a second she considered passing on the drink. Not exactly a good image, to be drinking in front of the boss shortly after being hired, but she had concluded she was done playing games for this guy. She was hired. She wasn’t working a case. She would have a drink and not put on any more pretenses.

She’d gone to her room to ditch the wig and the tape, but she kept her outfit on because that was part of her, too. The vibrant red coat hung on a hook at the corner of the booth.

Neither Mark nor Sophie could refrain from checking out her tattoos every once in a while.

JoJo couldn’t pretend it bothered her. After all, she’d gotten the tattoos for a very specific purpose—just like she did most things in her life. So to complain when people stared seemed hypocritical.

She also knew that with her tattoos she was writing off nice guys like Mark Sharpe, who would never be attracted to her. Solid businessman, clean-cut. Probably a conservative who wore boxers. Yes, he was definitely not her type.

Still, as she looked at him with his neatly trimmed dark hair, his barely there scruff along his chin and his dark sweater that highlighted broad shoulders, she got the impression he wasn’t quite the conformist he portrayed.

Then there were his eyes. To say they were brown didn’t describe them at all. They reminded her of a bird’s eyes. Sharp and calculating. Assessing her like she was nothing more than a squirrel he would hunt for sport rather than food.

There was no escaping those eyes now that they were focused on her. They were like her tattoos. Badass. When he’d looked at her in the lobby and she knew she’d been made, she’d felt like prey being given a reprieve. She wouldn’t be so lucky next time.

JoJo made a mental note that there wouldn’t be a next time. As a rule, she wasn’t intimidated by men. The experience she had with her father after her sister had died made intimidation impossible. She never feared men because she knew she could survive anything.