A Jade's Trick (Lilly Black's Jaded Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

cockiness by spending his money to dress hot for my blind date, and I definitely kept my word.
    Then it happens.  The knock at the door.  Until now, this whole thing has just been an abstract concept, but as soon as I open that door and meet Jackson's friend, it will be official.  I'm nervous as I take a last look in the mirror and head to the door.
    "Jackson?" I ask, not making the connection between the guy standing right in front of me in the evening sunlight and the guy I saw across a dimly-lit bar two days ago.  His hair is light brown hair, his eyes green, his suit grey, and he reminds me of someone.
    "Evan?" he asks, and I nod.  "It's a pleasure to meet you."
    "You, too.  Come on in.  Nicole's just finishing..." I trail off as she steps into the living room.
    "Nicole," Jackson whispers her name as she enters the living room in her gorgeous pink mini dress. "You look...breathtaking," he says, and even the thick shell around my awww reflex is breached as he seems so genuinely taken aback by her.  With light blonde hair and tan skin, Nicole is dazzling, and sometimes I feel very pale in her shadow.
    "Thanks...uh..."  Nicole says.
    "Jackson," I whisper.  She's just taken aback by him, too.  He's handsome, perhaps a little old for her, but he couldn't be more than thirty-five.
    "Shall we?"  He offers her his arm. I follow, locking the door behind us, but as we approach the silver BMW, I become aware that my "date" is not there.
    "Toby got tied up at the office, so he's meeting us at the restaurant," Jackson explains.
    Toby and Jackson?   Those aren't typical California names.  Sounds like Texas or someplace close to my old home state.
    "Oh," I say as he opens the back door for me, and for the twenty minutes it takes to get to Maison Latour from La Mesa, I stress over the fact that my blind date has become more blind.
    What if Toby didn't come to pick me up because he wants to scope me out first?  What if he isn't impressed and decides to bail before even meeting me?   As I torment myself, every so often Jackson's voice penetrates my private bubble of anxiety, and he sounds as familiar as he looks.  It's not the voice itself so much as the way he says certain words.  Definitely not Texan.  He sounds local.
    When we arrive, Jackson pulls up to the valet station yet insists on opening Nicole's door himself.  He's a real gentleman, exactly what she likes, and she will be right at home here amongst all the finery.  As for me, I'll pull it off, knowing which fork to use from years of waitressing in upscale restaurants and how to pronounce the French words on the menu from my childhood in Louisiana, but I would much rather be in a more private setting, someplace dimly lit with more ambient noise drowning out my thoughts.
    As we follow the Maître d' into the dining room and past the lone, baby grand piano, everyone whispers their conversations at tables covered in crisp, white table cloths, but I don't see a single table anywhere with a man sitting by himself.
    Fantastic .  Now I get to sit around like a third wheel and wait for What's-His-Fuck to show up, I think, but he doesn't seat us in here.  We're led beyond this dining room and into another where the booths are separated by thick wooden panels with decorative accordion doors along the fronts for privacy.  Though I should feel more at ease in here as a piano and violin play louder, after the Maître d' seats Jackson and Nicole and leads me away, my anxiety shoots through the roof.
    He escorts me to the corner booth, pulling back one side of the closed doors for me, and to my surprise I find Toby already seated inside, an open menu suspiciously blocking his face.  The Maître d' places the napkin in my lap and lights the candle, and a hand with manicured fingers reaches out from behind the menu, discretely passing him a tip before he leaves, closing the door.  Only then does Toby lay the menu down, and I have all of my questions answered...why he