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Sophie isn't sure what she was expecting when Tara called to invite her to Valentine's Day dinner and to dress up for it. They weren't one of those couple - they weren't even a couple, most of the time. Both of them were grifters, going where the money and the marks led them, and that wasn't always in the same direction. They met up every so often, spent a few bliss-filled days together in a spa or an exclusive hotel or - if they were close - at one of the houses or apartments they owned.
Then again, despite the fact that they only managed a face to face meeting every couple of months, that they were both liars by nature and by profession and that they never actually acknowledged this thing between them as a real relationship, it was still the longest and most stable relationship Sophie's ever had. (If you don't count the 'catch me, don't catch me' game she'd been playing with Nathan Ford for the last few years - that could have been something more if he hadn't been married and she hadn't been - wasn't - who she was. Now it was mostly awkward and the last time they'd met they'd both gotten shot, so Sophie wasn't sure she could call it a relationship. Or stable.)
Whatever she'd been expecting, it certainly hadn't been a refuse-filled alley in an up-and-coming (but not quite there yet) part of Los Angeles. And yet that was exactly where she ended up when she followed Tara's directions. Sophie wrinkled her nose and carefully stepped around a small mountain of rotting garbage, spilling out from a sliced garbage bag carelessly thrown down next to an overflowing dumpster. There was a door a few feet further into the alley, and Sophie was glad she was wearing leather gloves when she knocked on the door. She'd need to burn the gloves later though.
The door was opened by an unfriendly looking middle-aged man in a stained apron. "You Florence?"
"I am."
"Come on through then," he said, holding the door open.
Sophie stepped past him and straight into the busy bustle of a large restaurant kitchen. Inside, the scents of roasting, cooking and frying meat were almost overpowering and together with the instant heat that hit her in contrast to the chilly February air outside they almost made her breathless for a moment.
Tara was sitting at a small table for two, tucked in next to one of the many counters where people are busy slicing, chopping and dicing vegetables. She was dressed to the nines, her blonde hair pinned up with pins that sparkled like diamonds in the bright kitchen lights. For all Sophie knew, they might actually be diamonds.
She greeted Tara with a kiss on the cheek and sat down. Immediately, they were served the first course. Sophie wasn't surprised. Wrangling a chef's table - for two! - at one of the busiest days was nearly impossible. She picked up her glass of Champagne waited for Tara to clink her own glass against Sophie's.
"To Valentine's Day?" Tara said, smiling.
Sophie nodded. "To Valentine's Day."
Sophie took a sip - very good year - and studied the dish in front of her. "I have to say, I'm impressed. And I haven't even tasted anything yet." Sophie didn't say it, but this was already turning out to be her best Valentine's Day so far. Of course, usually she spent the day charming her latest mark. Still, Sophie had a feeling that she'd consider this the best Valentine's Day so far even if they'd met in a small diner in the middle of nowhere to eat fast food and maybe share a chocolate fudge sundae for dessert.
"Well, shall we then?" Tara gestured at the food.
The food turned out to be excellent. The theme of the menu was - of course - Valentine's Day, and Sophie savored the fresh, tangy oysters, the steamed white asparagus and all the other delicious bite-sized morsels that were put in front of them. Dessert was a dark chocolate mousse topped with whipped cream and a sweet raspberry sauce drizzled on top.
They didn't talk much over dinner - the noise of the kitchen and the fact that there was zero privacy in a room where someone was arranging asparagus on a plate not five feet from their table means that conversation is impossible unless they wanted to announce their business to the whole kitchen staff.
Sophie felt relaxed despite the chaos around them. The lack of conversation gave her time to focus on the truly excellent food and on Tara, sharing appreciative glances (not all of them directed at the food) and heated looks. It only made her anticipation rise to the point where she could hardly wait to see what Tara's plan were for the rest of the evening. There had been one moment when Sophie had slipped her foot out of her pump, feeling like a teenager on the first date, to brush it against Tara's ankle. The positively dirty smirk she'd earned in return seemed very promising.
"Ready to get out of here?" Tara asked.
Sophie nodded.
Tara had a quick conversation with the chef. She handed over an envelope and accepted a small white bag in return. They left by the back door again, and the cold air and the stench of the alley almost shook Sophie out of the dream-like daze she'd fallen into due to the food - and the company.
"Come on, let's get out of here. I have things planned that don't involve a smelly garbage dump."
"Any chance you'll tell me what those things are?"
"I'll tell you as soon as we're on the way to my place."
They left the alley as quickly as they could, arms linked, and Tara led them around to the front of the building. A limousine was waiting for them.
Sophie stole a kiss once they were settled and on the road. "What's in the bag?"
Tara grinned. "More dessert." She placed the bag just out of reach when Sophie leaned over to take a peek.
Sophie raised an eyebrow. "Anything to do with those plans you mentioned earlier?"
"Oh, definitely." Tara licked her lips and Sophie felt her stomach flutter a little.
"Tell me more," Sophie said, practically melting into Tara's side.
And if Sophie's voice sounded a little breathless and thready, well, who could blame her?