Huge Deal - Lauren Layne Page 0,12

too long or hard on how much damage the style had cost her credit card. “And enjoy it while it lasts, because there are no guarantees I’ll ever be able to get it to look this way again.”

“You could always do a ponytail like I do,” Lara said.

Kate and Sabrina exchanged a look.

“Sweetie,” Sabrina said, tugging Lara’s hair. “You realize you can pull off this cheerleader pony because you have seven times more hair than normal, right? The rest of us only wear this style to Pilates or to wash our face because our ponytail looks about like what you probably shed in the shower.”

“Most disgusting visual ever,” Lara said, and Kate nodded in agreement. “Besides, your hair’s fabulous.”

“Because I know what works for me,” Sabrina said, touching a hand to the sleek knot of dark hair at the nape of her neck. “And I know exactly what makeup works for Kate. This way, pet.”

Kate and Lara dutifully followed after Sabrina, who walked with the confident side-to-side sashay of a woman who was irresistible and knew it.

“So what brought this on?” Lara asked casually. Too casually.

Kate gave her friend a knowing look as Sabrina began rattling off something about warm pinks to a saleswoman at the Chanel counter. “You know that doesn’t work with me.”

“What?” Lara pushed her glasses up her nose.

“The I’m just a curious little thing asking harmless questions routine that makes you so good at your job,” Kate said. Lara had recently joined the FBI’s New York white-collar division and was already climbing the ranks at record speed.

Lara laughed. “Sorry. Habit. Since you’re my friend and not a suspect, I’ll ask straight up. Are you okay? I’m all for self-pampering and feeling gorgeous, but I’ve always known you to be more of a cherry ChapStick kind of gal. I’ve also seen you use a chip clip to tie your hair back.”

“One time,” Kate said, holding up her finger. “I did that one time. And I washed the clip after.”

“Fair enough. So you just wanted a change?”

“Yes, exactly,” Kate said, grateful her friend got it. “I promise if I find myself in some sort of deep-rooted crisis, I’ll tell you, but this really, truly is just me itching to change something up, and my hair and makeup seemed like a good place to start.”

“And clothes,” Sabrina said, waving a tube of mascara over her shoulder without turning around. “Don’t think I’m not coming along for the wardrobe part of this party!”

Kate leaned toward Lara. “I did do the right thing asking you guys to join, right?”

Lara linked arms with her and nudged her toward the counter. “Considering I’ll make sure we go get a glass of wine before Sabrina has her new-clothes way with you, yes. Yes, you did.”

6

Saturday, March 30

“You going to turn that glare on me if I say happy birthday, old man?” Sabrina Cross said, approaching a glowering Kennedy.

Kennedy moved his eyes to his right without turning his head. “Probably not.”

“What if I tell you that the ice sculpture is just the spitting image of you? Though I think they overdid it on the biceps . . .”

Kennedy made an exaggerated show of looking around the crowded rooftop of the Knickerbocker Hotel.

“Who are you looking for?”

“Your husband. I don’t want him to see me pushing you off the roof.”

Sabrina laughed and linked a slender arm with his, lifting her other hand to take a sip of her champagne. “Let’s just stand here for a minute and pretend we’re in a riveting conversation so that we don’t have to make small talk.”

“You’re good at small talk.”

“I am,” she agreed. “You’re not, unless it’s one of your clients. Most of whom are in attendance, I noticed.”

“I think half of Manhattan’s in attendance,” Kennedy said, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“There’s the birthday spirit,” she said sarcastically.

He looked down at her dark head. “Thanks for coming.”

A smile played on her lips. “Better.”

She looked up, presenting Kennedy with one of the more objectively beautiful faces he’d ever seen. More important, he actually liked Sabrina and always had. She was a longtime friend of Ian’s, their friendship dating back to their rougher days in Philly, before they’d reconnected in Manhattan at the top of their games—he as a BSD of Wall Street, she as New York City’s most notorious and sought-after fixer, a woman who could make just about any problem go away. For a price.

But stunning as the woman was, and as much as he enjoyed her company, there’d