I, Spy? (Sophie Green Mysteries, No. 1) (Sophie Green Mystery)

them in big enough sizes, which makes me really mad, because girls who can wear the sizes they do make them in don’t bloody need to ! But this dress had full underwiring, and needed it, because it was so low at the back it nearly gave me butt cleavage. I wriggled into my best La Senza (funds not stretching as far as La Perla) and doused myself in perfume.
    Then Angel, God bless her, turned up with some serious rocks in a velvet case.
    “Jesus—” I looked at the light refracting a million ways, “—Angel, this could buy you a small island!”
    She smiled. “It’s an heirloom.”
    “I couldn’t wear it.”
    “’Course you can. It’ll look good with that frock. Is it Donna Karan?”
    I blinked. See, that’s what I don’t understand. Members of the rockistocracy like Angel can tell a designer at fifty paces. I have to have someone show me the label, then translate it for me.
    I put the necklace on, feeling my shoulders start to buckle under the weight. God only knows how Angel manages to wear something so heavy. She handed me matching earrings and a bracelet.
    “No watch,” she said.
    “I’m not stupid.”
    “I know, just checking.”
    She let me keep my little diamond ring, the one my parents bought me when I was twenty-one, but nothing else. She checked over my hair, exclaiming in delight over the colour, and stood back and smiled.
    “You’ll do,” she said quietly, and that’s great praise from Angel.
    I waited until she’d gone to put brown contacts in, wedge the earpiece in my lughole and finish arming myself. Since bloody Luke wouldn’t let me have a gun and stupid Joe Smith wouldn’t either (maybe I could ramraid it? No, the owner of a gun shop would probably have good security. Sirens, dogs, a shotgun or two…and Ted would never forgive me), all I had was my defence spray and stun gun. The defence spray I left behind because I didn’t want to accidentally spray myself, or the dress, with green gunk or set off the shrill alarm that accompanied it. I didn’t want to electrocute myself so I left the stun gun at home too. That left handcuffs, which were not exactly good for defence and far too kinky, should they be discovered in my handbag; and the Kevlar, for which I had not yet found a subtle use.
    I slung my old rape alarm in my bag, added some gum, a credit card, lip gloss, keys and my Nokia, and left the house.
    I’d put on my wool trenchcoat over the dress, but you could still see the red skirts peeping out like Mammy’s petticoat in Gone with the Wind . The dress, for all its bum cleavage, had a flattering boat neck that skimmed my collarbones, and an A-line skirt held out by petticoats that rustled as I walked. I’d thought about taking different shoes to walk in, because one doesn’t let delicate Manolos like these touch the pavement, darling, but I’d nowhere to put them when I arrived.
    To my astonishment, I arrived at South Ken on time, without missing a train, going in the wrong direction, getting lost or tripped over, tearing my dress or splashing through a puddle. I looked up at Gray’s Hotel, squared my shoulders and walked anonymously through the paparazzi to the door marked “Ballroom”.
    “Name?” asked the big scary black man on the door. I wondered if he was related to Macbeth.
    “Antonia Porter,” I said, and he looked down the list. My heart was pounding.
    “Go on in,” he said eventually, and I nearly cried with relief.
    “Is James Bannerman here yet?” I asked.
    “He’s waiting for you.” The bouncer looked at a note by Luke’s alias. “In the lobby. You can check your coat in there.”
    I nodded nervously and stepped past him into one of the most nerve-wracking experiences of my life.

Chapter Eleven
     
    There should be a moment in every woman’s life when she walks into a fabulous setting, looking like a movie star, people turning and staring at her as she glides past them to the man she’s interested in, and has the fantastic experience of having his eyes glued to her.
    “Jesus,” Luke said, looking me over.
    “Jesus never looked this good,” I said, so pleased with myself it was all I could do to keep from skipping.
    “You look… wow .”
    I grinned. “Wow” was pretty good.
    “Where’d you get the dress?”
    “I broke into Donna Karan and half-inched it.”
    Luke looked like he believed me.
    “I borrowed it.” I nudged him.
    “And the ice?” He reached out to touch the diamonds.
    “Real. Also borrowed.”
    “You