Ellen loitered at the corner, watching the bar Tony had selected. Pretty middle-of-the-road. That figured. She scanned the rooftops but didn't see any snipers. Not that she really expected any, but still.
Tony sat at an outdoor table, quietly vibrating like a man wired on caffeine. He was alone at the table, but not alone. An expensive car that didn't fit the mid-range ambience of the bar or the location was parked a few spaces down the block. Ellen figured on at least a driver/bodyguard, maybe more than one. Not an unreasonable precaution, even if he weren't meeting her. He was a very famous, very rich man.
She smoothed down brand-new leather jacket she'd bought, the only concession to her own nerves she allowed herself. She'd appeared in New York with only the clothes on her back, literally. She'd spent the morning buying a few things, including the jeans and teal blouse she wore.
It crossed her mind to see how closely she could approach him before he spotted her. But only briefly. A stealthy approach might send the wrong signals and get them off on the wrong foot. Or wrong-er foot, really.
This was going to be awkward. At best.
She walked up the opposite side of the street until she stood across from the bar patio, then crossed. She recognized the moment he spotted her despite the sunglasses that hid his eyes.
She gave a little wave of greeting, then threaded through the tables to slide into a chair opposite Tony.