This is not what I expected when I enlisted the help of the FBI to protect the art at my father's gallery. My father is a fool, thinking that his mediocre team of security guards could handle a high profile gallery opening. I know better. I read the headlines. I haven't made it to where I am by hiding behind my daddy's name and playing beautiful, dumb woman. Although, it does work on occasion, when my adversaries have already underestimated me. I am Stephanie Mansfield-Wade, and though I may be beautiful, I can also play chess with a Grandmaster, and I also know that the world is a much better chessboard.
Which leads me to where I am today, covering my fathers' ass. I knew when he said he wanted to open a new gallery in Manhattan, that it would be a spectacular event, and draw quite a crowd. Then he told me what he wanted the center of the display to be. I asked if he was bringing in extra security, and he said that his men could handle it. We haven't had a gallery opening in twenty years, and that one was in Boston. He's in over his head, and now it's up to me to make sure he doesn't look like a fool at his own opening, along with doing my own job. So I called Diana at the FBI. We had been raised under similar circumstances, she was the daughter of a dignitary, and my parents were wealthy jet-setters. Nannies and bodyguards were daily parts of our lives. We had remained in touch over the years, and I knew that if Diana couldn't help me, she would know who could.
When I called, Diana told me to come and meet her boss, Peter Burke, because this sort of thing is "right up his alley". I expected to go over the details with him, and make plans for a team to be at the opening to discourage any issues, but it seems that Peter has other ideas.
"Are you single, Miss Wade?" he asked, after I had given him a brief overview of the situation.
"I don't see how that's any of your business, but yes, I am. I recently moved to the city and haven't made any attachments as of yet." I replied, maybe a bit too honestly.
Peter chuckled. "It's not for me. I'm happily married. I have a partner, a CI, who could use a bit of a distraction. Are you up for it?"
A distraction. I could do that, no strings, just see where it leads, "Are you pimping me out the first day we meet? Isn't that a little forward? Think he can handle my attitude and not be put off by an intelligent woman? Most men want a bump on a log with beauty and no brains. That's just not me." I replied. If he could keep up, I was game.
That earned me a full on laugh from the agent. " I think you and Neal will get along just fine. I just want you to know up front, he'll be wearing a tracking device. He can go where he wants if he's with me or on the job. Other than that, he has a two-mile radius around his home."
That sobered me up a little. "Is Neal dangerous? Are you setting me up with a killer?"
Peter threw up his hands quickly. "No, no, nothing like that. Neal despises violence in all its forms. I will let him be the one to tell you of his past, though."
I relaxed at that. At least I wouldn't be in immediate danger, not that I couldn't take care of myself if needed. The opening was in two weeks, and there were plenty of dinners and other events that we could go to in order to meet and get to know one another. If Neal were Peter's CI, then he would be working on the case as well.
"Will me distracting Neal make him less useful during the case? These artifacts are my top priority. His love life, or lack thereof, can wait, if it will cost me money." I didn't mean to sound harsh, but I wanted the truth before I became involved in anything.
Peter just smiled. "Neal actually performs better on cases where he cares about what's at stake. The art will appeal to him for reasons you'll understand better after the two of you meet, but when he has a personal connection to a case, Neal's all in, and he'll stop at nothing to make sure that the desired outcome is achieved. I'm not saying this to get the two of you involved, I just think that you'll have a lot in common, and if nothing else, would make good friends. Take it and go from there."
Maybe it's time to get a life outside the four walls of my office. Hell, I haven't had a date since I moved to this city a year ago. It can't hurt to at least meet him and see what all the talk is about.
"Alright, Peter. I'll do it. There's a semi-formal dinner at Aureole tonight for some of the gallery contributors. It would be a good time for your team to scout out some of the people who will be at the opening, and also a good time to set Neal and I up on a "blind date" of sorts. You can bring your wife, or Diana, whomever you think Neal would feel most comfortable with. Dinner starts at eight. I may be a little late, since I'm coming from the hospital, and my shift doesn't end until seven, but we'll make it work." It would be a long day for me, but hopefully, it would be worth it in the end.
Peter nodded as he stood to walk me out of the office. He confirmed that he would be bringing his wife, Elizabeth, to dinner, and that my late arrival would probably work in our favor, so that he could explain the case to Neal, along with convincing him to accept a "blind date". Apparently Neal usually doesn't' have any problems finding female companionship on his own. I wonder why Peter is stepping in this time. As we reached the elevators, I shook Peter's hand and when I turned to step onto the elevator at the 'ding', the most breathtaking man stepped out.
Six foot or more, in a dark blue three piece suit, with a pink shirt underneath that brought out eyes the color of the ocean, framed by dark lashes. Dark, wavy hair, perfectly styled. This man had spent time on his appearance. Our eyes met, briefly, and he gave me a quick smile before he disappeared through the glass doors of the office and the elevator doors closed to take me downstairs, leaving me to think, "God, I hope that was Neal!"
I didn't have time to think about my mystery man for long, though. I had work to do. After a quick stop at my apartment for a dress to wear to dinner, I made it back to the hospital in record time. As the nurse manager of the Trauma Intensive Care Unit, I couldn't be gone all day. I had to be there for my team. Katie, my Associate nurse manager, was watching over things while I was at my meeting.
"Everything go alright? You look flustered." Katie didn't miss a beat, that's why she was such a good nurse, and why I trusted her to keep an eye on things while I got my father out of the mess he was in.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just don't like rushing, and I don't like bailing my dad out of his own stupidity. He's old enough to know better. If it weren't for this damn map…"I trailed off, fuming again. I wasn't telling the full truth, but I didn't know mystery man's name, and what was I going to say, "I saw a guy and he almost made me faint with a smile?"
"Girl, you need to get laid. Maybe then you won't be so tense all the time. You're too smart for your own good. We need to find you a good-looking man who can appreciate your brain and your smokin' body that you spend way too much time in the gym working on. Hmmm, maybe one of the new residents?" Katie mused as she smiled at me while I put my dress in the bathroom connected to my office and locked my purse in my desk.
I shot her suggestion down quickly and changed into my scrubs to do rounds, "I don't date people I work with. It just makes things awkward if it doesn't work out, and makes it seem like I'm playing favorites if it does. Nope, not breaking that rule."
As a ten-bed unit, we took care of the worst of the worst. I had seen and done it all in my seven years as a nurse, and even though I've only been here in this hospital for about a year, I think I'm starting to prove myself as someone to be trusted to hold her own in a crisis. I've saved more than my fair share of patients, some of who probably weren't supposed to make it out alive.
At the end of my shift, I let the night shift associate nurse manager know whom the worst patients were and what to watch out for, and filled them in on the happenings of the day. I was supposed to be off after today for several days, but always carried my cell in case of a crisis.
I rushed to my office and hurried to change, cursing when I noticed my blood spattered clothes; it really had been a long shift. I got into my deep purple wrap dress that showed a little of my cleavage, but really accentuated my tiny waist and toned legs, when you run for twelve hours at a time at work, it shows, haha.
I hurried to Aureole and noticed that I was only a few minutes late. In New York traffic, I had made pretty good time. Walking into the Bank of America tower and through the doors of the restaurant, I was greeted by the hostess who quickly pointed me in the direction of my party. As I approached, I could see Peter and who must have been his wife facing me, and a head of dark hair in a dark blue suit with his back to me. Peter stood and who I now knew to be Neal stood to meet me as well. As he turned to face me, I got my second look at him. My memory had not done this man justice.
"Hello, Miss Wade. I'm glad you could join us tonight." Peter was about to introduce Neal, when Neal decided to introduce himself. I decided to beat him to the punch. Let's see if he can handle a woman who can handle herself.
"You must be Neal. I'm Stephanie Mansfield-Wade. It's a pleasure to meet you. Peter has told me a lot about you, and I must say that I'm intrigued. It seemed that for all that he said, there was so much more that he didn't say. I look forward to getting to know you, Mr…" I let the end of my sentence trail off, as I stood there with a slight blush on my face, realizing that Peter had never told me Neal's last name.
Neal came to my rescue, "Caffrey. I hope Peter hasn't spilled all of my secrets just yet. I'd like to be the one to tell you the stories behind a few of them. " He said as he placed a feather light kiss to the knuckles of my offered hand. "And the pleasure is all mine. "
My heart raced at the gesture, and I hoped he didn't notice as he pushed in my chair and took his seat at my side. I mentally shook myself to get my head in the game, telling myself that he was just another man, albeit extremely attractive, and smooth at that.
After we were seated and had ordered dinner, the conversation turned serious for a moment. Neal spoke up, "Stephanie, Peter has told me a little about the gallery opening that has you so worried. Can you tell us a little more about why you are worried about this opening in particular? Have there been threats? Is there a particular exhibit that you're worried about?"
"No, there haven't been any threats, but there is an exhibit in particular that I am worried about. In the place of honor at the opening, is an artifact that hasn't been displayed since its authenticity was verified in Radiocarbon in 2003." I began.
Neal blanched. "You have the Vinland Map? The original map that was supposedly purchased in 1957?"
"I guess I don't need to ask if you've heard of it. There's been talk about the authenticity of the map since it appeared in the states in the 1950's. We have the original map, and my father, in an insane attempt to be the biggest opening of the year, wants to display it. That is what has me so worried." I finished my explanation fervently.
"Maybe it's best if I explain a little of my past and why I'm the best man to help you, Stephanie." Neal began. "I take it you don't recognize my name, and to be honest, I'm a little grateful, because you'll let me explain without running and screaming. I am a felon. I am a reforming art thief and a master forger. That is why I am the best man to help you with this. I need to see your copy of the map. And it is a copy." Neal finished with a smirk on his lips.
"How do you know it's a copy?" asked Elizabeth from across the table. She had been curiously quiet throughout this conversation, just watching the interaction between Neal and I.
"Because I made it. I forged the map. The map that was authenticated in the journal was a forgery of mine. Peter, it was one of the jobs I did when I came back from Europe and was trying to get Kate's attention. You just couldn't pin it on me. They never suspected it was forged, because there were too many questions surrounding the map to begin with. I'm guessing we can't get in to see it until tomorrow morning. I can prove it to you then." Neal said.
I had to admit, his explanation made sense. Why didn't his past put me off, though? Why didn't I want to run away screaming? It seems like all I want to do is learn why this man seems so haunted. I decided to try and lighten the mood a little.
"So, Neal, when you're not an art thief, or helping the FBI, what do you like to do? Music, Art, Wine, Theater? Any of the above? Or are you a homebody like Peter?" I asked, trying to get a little information, without asking anything too personal.
Neal gave me a big grin, and I sucked in a breath, and then smiled back at the sparkle in his eye, "Yes." He said simply, to which we all laughed. "There are times when I'm a bit of a homebody by default, but I enjoy culture, and people. I believe we do have much to talk about." His eyes were almost glowing as they held mine, and it made me wonder if he was like this with every woman he met, of if it was some connection we shared.
Elizabeth continued the conversation, "Peter tells me you're a nurse, Stephanie. Tell us more about your job. It sounds exciting!"
"It's less glorified than you think, actually. I work in the trauma intensive care at Bellevue. I've been a nurse for seven years now, and I've been here for a little over a year. There's something about trauma. It's exciting, it's fast paced, there can be no mistakes, there's always a life hanging in the balance. It's an adrenaline rush that gets into your head and never lets go. I love it, and I have a great team. It just doesn't leave much time for a social life. But, " Regret for wasted time is more wasted time.""I quoted, by way of explanation.
"Mason Cooley. Abstract and unknown. You're intelligent, as well as beautiful. "Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."" Stated Neal in his smooth way. He smirked, and I smiled back.
"T. S. Elliot, nice choice. I see you're not just a pretty face either. "Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars."" I quoted. If he gets this one, he wins, hands down. No one has ever been able to guess this quote.
Neal's eyes close in concentration, and I notice, for the first time, that he has the longest eyelashes that I have ever seen. There's a furrow between his eyes that I find myself wanting to smooth with my fingers. Just when I can't take the tension anymore and my hands are itching to reach out and touch his face his eyes snap open, ocean blue to my green.
"Khalil Gibran. You almost got me with that one. "Though we cannot change the direction of the wind, we can adjust our sails."" He says with a proud smile. I'm not sure who he's proud of, himself for figuring it out, or me for almost besting him.
"Bertha Calloway. I guess it's a draw. I'm done." I finished satisfied that I had a worthy opponent, at least.
I stretched my arms overhead, stiff from sitting for so long. I hadn't realized that we had been talking for as long as we had. Many couples were up and dancing around us. I stood, watching couples glide and twirl around our table, when I felt a presence close behind me, and lips at my ear. Neal's voice was quiet now, and a bit deeper, "Would you like to dance, Miss Wade?"
I bit my lip and turned to look at him as he offered me his hand. I'd be a fool to refuse, but am I a fool to trust an admitted con artist?