Don’t Love, Don’t Lose

Chapter 5

The bath was only so she could be relaxed. She deserved to relax, didn’t she? Of course she did. It had been a long day.

“Stop stalking me, Lucy. I’m not a pigeon or a canary. And if I were, you wouldn’t be allowed to eat me. Do you know how much all that special diet food of yours cost? You have a stomach infection, apparently. But that means I have to thank you again for not making a mess in the house that night. That was very kind of you.”

“Meeooowwwr.”

Jasmine nodded.

“Indeed. I’m not going anywhere. I think I’ll get that delivery today. It’s been a while since I got my toys to play with.”

Lucy sat on the bath mat and purred like an engine.

“Don’t you look like that. You have got plenty of toys. I’m not getting you any more toys. Besides, you’ve taken over my chair. It’s my favorite chair. It’s ergonomically designed. It keeps my posture good.”

When Jasmine got out of the bath, checked the time, and toweled her hair dry –the short hair did have its uses – she had no plans.

None at all.

She hadn’t even checked her phone. She hadn’t called Aunt Della, either. Aunt Della had been calling her, but Jasmine figured it would serve her right to stew for a while. After what she’d sprung on Jasmine, she could hardly complain.

Even when she was choosing her outfit – nothing fancy, just slim navy pants and a comfortable cashmere sweater in pale blue that made her glow – she didn’t admit to herself just why she was doing it.

By the time she was doing her makeup, she had to admit it. She was going for that dinner.

“But I’m only going because I want to sort this out. It was left halfway and I don’t like that,” she told Lucy, who had finally given up on waiting for tuna and eaten her prescription food.

Lucy obviously did not care.

“Fine, don’t care. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Right on cue, her phone rang, and this time, it wasn’t Aunt Della.

Jasmine considered her options, but she knew she’d made her choice, really.

“Jasmine.”

How had she not noticed that his voice was silky smooth and beautiful? It really was. It was deep, and smooth, like a very rich sauce, but with the slightest hint of sweetness in it, as if you just needed to taste it to find out the depth in it.

It was intoxicating.

No, it was not, corrected Jasmine to herself.

“Mr. Malone,” said Jasmine, pointedly.

“I hoped we’d be on first name basis. We are going to dinner, after all. Am I picking you up or are you coming to me?”

All of that sounded too impatient.

“I’m meeting you at the restaurant, and I’m picking the restaurant.”

“I agree to your terms, Ms. Turner.”

Was he mocking her? Well, she would show him soon enough.

She smirked as she told him where they would meet. It was probably not going to be fancy enough for him, but they made the best seafood, and she felt like seafood.

“I hope their bisque is as good as it used to be.”

She was surprised as she hung up. How did he know about their bisque? She’d gotten the impression that he knew very little about Baltimore. That was one of the reasons why she’d been so surprised when Aunt Della wanted to help him.

Well, it didn’t matter, did it? Maybe he took his research very seriously, too.

Jasmine drove herself to the restaurant, planning to be early. But he was earlier, and the smug smile on his face annoyed her. He knew she’d wanted to be there first.

Jasmine composed herself and smiled at the owner of the restaurant, who knew her, because she was Della’s friend. She made her way to the table – a good one, not the center of attention but not hidden behind a plant or in a corner or next to the restroom door – and sat down before he could get up and pull the chair out for her.

Point for her, thought Jasmine, feeling as smug as he looked.

“I’m glad you didn’t stub your toe on your way over.”

Jasmine frowned.

“I don’t stub my toe.”

That was a blatant lie. She’d been a clumsy child, and a clumsy teenager. But she’d gotten over that and developed the elegance that she now felt served her well.

“You did in the coffee shop. I see you know the proprietor here.”

“Almost family. But you’re not getting a discount.”

“I didn’t ask for one. You look lovely, Jasmine.”

Jasmine, not Ms. Turner, yet again. Well, she wasn’t going to waste her energy fighting what was obviously going to be a losing battle.

“Thank you.”

She didn’t return the compliment even if he did look good. He wasn’t overdressed as she’d hoped he would be. He looked wonderful in tailored slacks and an open-necked shirt, with the cuffs rolled up a bit. He looked like a man who had had a long day and was now looking forward to a relaxing evening, and confident of getting what he wanted.

He surprised her again by ordering the house white instead of asking for a wine list, and ordered without missing a beat. He was surprising her on all counts. Jasmine didn’t like being surprised. It made her feel unprepared.

“So, Ms. Turner. You have a product to sell me.”

Jasmine blinked. Why was she Ms. Turner again? Why was this man so very infuriating?

“I have a product you need, Mr. Malone.”

She was pleased to make that correction.

“Convince me.”

Jasmine frowned. This was not what she’d pictured when she had been trying to figure out if she was going out to dinner with this man. She hadn’t come ready for a sales pitch.

But what the heck! Why not?

“Well, Mr. Malone, I believe that you have a mole. Now, you might have an extremely careful mole who does not use any digital technology at all, but that is very unlikely, especially because, I believe, a soft copy has also gone missing. It has been deleted.”

He nodded, but he didn’t look pleased. Jasmine realized that she was probably not making Aunt Della look very good by tell him all of this.

“That means that there is a digital footprint I can track, and there might even be a digital fingerprint that I can find. The soft copy must have been wiped from your server, if you have one here or at your headquarters, or from whatever cloud storage you use. Whoever did that, no matter how good they are, would have left a trail. Now, the trouble is that trails can be false and deliberately laid. If I was your mole – I’m not, but I like to start by assuming that I’m dealing with somebody potentially capable of outthinking me, it keeps me on my toes – I would not use my own details or my own system to do that. A smart spy would use somebody else’s. But an even smarter one would use one system to create one set of fake credentials with admin powers, then log into that using another system, and go on to create another one from there – basically, send whoever comes looking on a wild chase. I’d use a false drive to create another one, make a chain, and I would burn it all and use it only once.”