Page 50 of Perfect Vengeance

Chapter Twelve

It seemed to Gina that half the rich and famous of Manhattan had turned out at Clayton Manor for the fundraiser. Good thing, since there was no predicting when Jack’s investigation would be over. Until then, this fundraiser was the only answer to their prayers.

She glanced at the slim gold watch on her wrist. Ten thirty. Having done the whole hobnobbing thing for the last three hours, she was exhausted, and from the way her stomach growled, starving as well. Plastering on a happy face for three solid hours and sweet-talking people into writing checks was hard work.

The orchestra at the far end of the ballroom played lively but traditional music, catering to both the city’s old-world money and its newfound wealth. Enormous crystal chandeliers glistened overhead, reflecting off the multitude of haute couture sequined and beaded evening dresses twirling around the dance floor. Any of the chandeliers or even one of the outfits worn here tonight would be enough for a down payment on a small car.

Circular, white linen-draped tables with lush centerpieces surrounded the dance floor. Seated at the tables were several city counsel members and celebrities, including two rock stars, three actors, and one professional baseball player for the New York Yankees. Kinsey, clad in a slinky, strapless red gown, leaned down to whisper something to Mr. New York Yankee. As anticipated, he responded with a smile and moments later whisked Kinsey onto the dance floor.

Gina grinned. The man didn’t know it yet, but before the night was out, he’d be writing a big fat check to the Center.

“You’ve outdone yourself tonight.” Margo handed her a flute of champagne, the color of which matched Margo’s silk dress. “And you look stunning. I’m fairly certain your dress has something to do with half the checks we acquired tonight.”

“I had to hold my breath to squeeze into it.” The shimmery copper folds of fabric hugged her body, except for the significant slash up the side of one thigh. Thin spaghetti straps were the only things keeping the heart-shaped bodice from slipping down and giving the guests a real show for their money. “I’ll be happy when this is over and we can tally the receipts.” She took a healthy swallow from the glass, allowing the cool, bubbly liquid to trickle down her throat.

“Anna says the checks are coming in, though most don’t have quite as many zeros as we’d hoped for.” Margo canted her head to where Anna stood at the buffet service table.

“I know.” She sighed. “Money’s tight for everyone these days, even the rich. Linda says overall donations are significantly down from last year.” Leaning over to whisper into Margo’s ear, she added, “The money we grabbed from Rocco’s apartment, combined with the stack of cash I unintentionally stole from Psycho’s, still leaves us short. And Linda just informed me several more women and their families have been taken in at the Center.”

Margo leaned in closer. “I’m surprised Jack didn’t strangle you on the spot when that money fell out of your suit.”

At the mention of his name, the far too vivid recollection of that soul-rocking kiss slammed into her, and she shivered.

“Cold?” Margo arched her brows and chuckled. “You miss him, don’t you?”

“Miss who?”

“Jack.” She uttered another laugh. “Don’t try to deny it. You do miss him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, louder than intended. Embarrassed, she glanced around, but with all the chattering and music no one seemed to notice. “Why would I miss the company of someone who can still throw us in jail any time he chooses just by snapping his fingers?” And who’d rocked her world with one kiss, then walked out on her as if it was the biggest mistake of his life.

Kinsey sidled up to them. “Me thinks she doth protest too much.”

“Putting aside for a moment the bizarre circumstances under which you two met,” Margo continued, “have you ever wondered what would have happened if you and Jack had met somewhere else?”

“Nothing, that’s what.”

“Are you sure?” Kinsey expertly snagged a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.

“Yes, I’m sure. I could never have a relationship with an FBI agent.” Thinking about Jack separately from the same agency that ruined her family wasn’t possible.

“Why not?” Anna’s bright green gown swished as she joined the group, carrying a plate heaped with pasta.

As the rich smell of Anna’s dinner wafted to her nose, Gina’s stomach growled even louder. She hadn’t eaten a thing all evening, and the champagne was beginning to get to her. She’d much rather tackle a piece of the decadent chocolate mousse cake on the dessert table.

Kinsey slanted a knowing look at Anna’s dinner. “I thought you said you were going to ease up on the carbs?”

“I tried, but I can’t. I give up. I’m a carb slut.” She shoved a bite into her mouth, chewed, then swallowed. “Now back to my question, Gina. For the sake of argument, can’t you—for even one moment—forget Jack is an FBI agent?”

“No.” She frowned, not wanting to explain the many hazards of any relationship with the FBI. Her friends had no idea of her past connections to the Mafia, and she’d just as soon keep it that way. “Besides, we did meet under these circumstances, and there’s no way we could ever pursue a relationship.” Didn’t matter how much that line of demarcation had begun to blur.

Blunt, painful rejection aside, beneath that tough, muscular exterior was a man consumed with guilt over the death of his colleague. During their little drive to Psycho’s she’d glimpsed yet another side of him, one with family ties that had obviously suffered as a result of his determination to avenge the other agent’s murder.

Last, but by no means least, there was the kiss. Even she could accurately gauge a man’s physical response, and she’d been undeniably sure he’d been equally floored. As if on cue, goose bumps crept up her spine and her face heated. She took another healthy swig of champagne, praying it would cool her off.

“Uh, Gina?” Kinsey smirked. “Your cheeks are flushed. What, pray tell, are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” she lied. For the last four nights since Jack had walked out of her kitchen, she’d gone to bed with the taste of him lingering on her tongue and the feel of his strong arms imprinted on her back.