Nate studied the man who walked into his new, makeshift office with barely concealed distaste. Johnson was handsome and graceful, and he wore a suit that probably cost a small fortune. His face was pleasant enough, but he had cold eyes.
"Jack Montgomery?" Johnson asked, putting out his hand for Nate to shake.
"That's me," Nate agreed, taking the offered hand. Johnson had a firm grip.
"I have a proposal for you, Mr. Montgomery."
Nate motioned to a chair in front of the desk. "Have a seat. Will this proposition make me money?"
"I guarantee it," Johnson replied smugly as he settled into the chair.
"Anything that makes me money is certainly worth my time. What can I help you with?"
"The three buildings you own on Missionary..."
"Wait. Wait. Hold up." Nate held up a hand. "I don't own property on Missionary."
"My research shows..."
"I mange three buildings. Manage. For the daughter of an old friend."
"A woman?" Johnson leaned forward. "Do you think she'll sell?"
"Nah. She doesn't need the money, and her father didn't want her to."
"I can be very persuasive."
"Good luck."
"What can you tell me about this woman?"
"Her name is Virginia Moody. Early forties. Lives alone. No family. Oh, and she's blind."
Nate could practically see the gears turning in Johnson's mind. "You're sure she won't sell?"
"No chance."
"That's a shame." Johnson got up. "Thanks for seeing me anyway, Mr. Montgomery."
"No problem."
Johnson was trying to look defeated, but his excitement leaked through. He was definitely on the hook. All Sophie had to do was reel him in.
XXX
"Okay, Sophie, he's coming towards you," Eliot warned through the com. "You're up."
Sophie was sitting at a bar in a place she'd never been. The stool beneath her was hard, and the counter top was rough and scarred. As she waited for the mark to approach, she ran her fingers over the deep scratches with a purposefully wistful expression on her face.
Nate had assured her the place was on par with McRory's, so at least there were no sticky spots under her hands, and the bartender had been friendly and polite. Interestingly, his voice had also been laced with a gentle kindness that had no hint of flirtation.
When someone sat on the stool beside her, Eliot gruffly said, "That's him."
She absorbed this information without changing expression. Playing with her glass, she waited for Johnson to make his move.
"Whatever you do, don't stab him," Parker reminded her, and Sophie smiled.
"If you don't mind me saying so," Johnson said, "you have a beautiful smile."
Sophie forced her breath to catch. "Oh, I didn't know anyone was there."
"I'm sorry if I startled you." He had a deep, pleasant voice, smooth and warm.
"That's all right, Mr..."
"Hoffman, but you can call me Matthew."
"Matthew." She smiled again, this one not quite as genuine but a bit more sweet.
"You're not the type of woman I normally find in places like this."
"What do you mean?"
"It's obvious that you're more used to wine than beer."
Sophie let a bit of melancholy leak into her face. "I've had a bad day."
"I'm a very good listener."
"I don't even know you." The character was becoming easier the more she talked to him.
"You will if you give me your name."
She titled her head at him. "My cane doesn't scare you?"
"I'm not easily frightened."
She held out her hand. "Virginia Moody."
Sophie felt real butterflies as he took it, but not because of his touch. It was a mixture of excitement and fear.
"Virginia. Nice to meet you." His hand was smooth and firm. Sophie held it for just an instant longer than was normal.
"And you, Matthew? What brings you here?"
"I sometimes come here for a friendly drink after work."
"What do you do?"
"I own a used book shop."
"He actually does. One of his recent acquisitions is Hoffman's Books, and he hasn't closed it yet," Hardison said.
"That's nice. I love to read." Sophie turned her whole attention on him. At one time, she would have done this mostly with her eyes, but now she turned her body slightly towards him and listened.
"We have a section of accessible books—audiobooks, Braille, that type of thing. Maybe you could come by and have a look."
"I'd like that."
"Me, too. So, tell me. What has got a pretty girl like you upset enough to drink in a bar like this?"
"This was my Daddy's favorite place," she told him confidingly. "I come here when I miss him."
"You miss him today?"
She nodded and ducked her head. If she could see, she'd be staring at her hands.
"What happened?" he asked gently.
He was good, she had to give him that. If she were really the woman she was pretending to be, she might have fallen for his nice guy act.
Making her expression say that she'd decided to take a chance and trust him, Sophie started spinning her own lie based on the background Hardison had provided. She was careful to tell it to him in a way that was both convincing and guileless. As she went on, she could feel Johnson falling.
Satisfaction curled up from her belly, and her confidence grew with every word she uttered. She began to realize that sight was only part of the arsenal she used as a grifter, and this blind and vulnerable woman might be someone she could use again and again. She was disarming and vulnerable; she was nonthreatening and above suspicion. The thought excited her, and she dug in deeper, exploring the character and all of her facets.
By the time Johnson left, Sophie knew she had him convinced she'd be the perfect target. She'd let him charm a date out of her for Friday and was looking forward to it almost as much as she would a real date. As she met up with Eliot outside of the bar, she couldn't stop smiling. She took his arm, his chauffeur jacket thick and fuzzy against her fingers, and let him lead her to the car.
When he paused to open the door, he leaned in to whisper, "You did great."
"Of course, I did." She patted his arm and teased, "And you were worried."
XXX
"How do I look?" Sophie asked, turning slowly in front of him.
Eliot studied her from all angles, admiring the way the small slip of a dress hugged her body. Her hair was loose and brushing her bare shoulders, and she was beaming with excitement. He thought she looked amazing.
"Good," he said.
Sophie frowned. "Is that all? I want to be a distraction."
"You'll be a distraction," he assured her.
"I suppose it doesn't matter. It's my property and my money he's attracted to."
Eliot studied her again, sure that wasn't the only thing Johnson would find attractive, not if he had eyes in his head. "Trust me, he won't just be thinking of your property."
"Are you sure I look all right? Sometimes I feel..."
"Soph."
"What?"
"That dress was made for you." Giving in to temptation, he ran a fingertip down her upper arm, enjoying the feel of her skin. Her breath caught audibly at the touch, and Eliot smiled.
"You really like it?" Her eyebrows rose.
"Yes."
"Okay, then I'm ready. Let's go."
Eliot sighed. He would much rather stay in and watch Sophie. "I'll go get my jacket and hat."
Once more, he was going to be Sophie's driver. It kept him both close and invisible. That creep Johnson wasn't going to be able to make a move Eliot didn't see. If he didn't treat Sophie with respect, Eliot would remember, and Johnson would pay for it at the end of the con.
XXX
Sophie sighed and put the book on her night stand. She was feeling a little soft and fluttery inside, as she did every time she finished a good romance novel. This one had been very good. It was full of heart...and the hot sex scenes hadn't been bad, either.
Along with the wistful ache the ending had left her with, Sophie was feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. She'd finished her first Braille novel, complete with complicated contractions. The going had been slow at first, but the further she got, the easier it had become. She was proud of herself.
It wasn't just because of the book. The book was a big part of it, knowing she had wrangled a difficult task until it had been manageable, but there was everything else, too. She had settled back into her life. It wasn't the same fit, but it wasn't bad. She had been grifting again. Over the two weeks she'd been 'dating' Johnson, her confidence had grown in leaps and bounds. Then there was the interesting thing that was slowly developing between her and Eliot. She was reluctant to define it, but she liked it.
After the explosion, which she still wasn't able to remember, she'd really believed her life was over. So much had changed since then that she now saw opportunities mixed in with the challenges. Life, as it usually did, was sorting itself out and, while it was different, it still had the potential to be good.
Feeling almost light, she settled into bed and pulled up the covers. Reaching over, she tapped the top of her clock.
"Twelve...oh...four."
Time to get to sleep. She'd be showing Matthew around the buildings he coveted the next afternoon, and she wanted to be rested. She closed her eyes and went immediately to sleep, her dreams full of romance and adventure, warmth and excitement.
