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For the first mile she was quiet except to warn him when a turn was coming up. They ran at a faster clip than he’d anticipated and he needed to get a conversation going while he could still run, breathe and talk at the same time. A year back he’d been in great shape and this would’ve been no sweat, but now not so much. The last twelve months had been the year from hell. Too much shit had gone down, none of it that he could control.
“You have a lot of clients?” He slowed down, pretending to watch a kid throw breadcrumbs to the ducks clustered at the edge of a small man-made lake.
She immediately downshifted. “Enough.”
“A woman of few words. Or can’t you keep up the pace and talk?”
She slid him an amused look. “I’m a personal trainer when I’m not doing this.”
“You work in a club?”
“No, I go to people’s homes.”
Interesting. He made a mental note to check into it. That kind of history could work in her favor. Or put a nail in her coffin. “Must pay pretty well. This city ain’t cheap.”
She laughed softly. “Think about how much you’re paying me to babysit you for an hour.”
“Good point.”
“How are you doing?”
“Still breathing.”
“We’ve gone almost three miles. After this next curve we’ll head back to the hotel via the east side of the park.” She wasn’t breathing hard, and unlike him, hadn’t even broken a sweat.
“I’m glad you know where you’re going. I’m totally lost.”
“That’s what keeps me in business.”
Chase grunted. That was about all he could manage at the moment. The three miles weren’t as much the problem as the pace he’d initially set. He should’ve taken it easier. Hell, his wound was still tender because he hadn’t allowed it to heal properly. If only he had a brain the size of his ego.
A group of chatty young kids obviously on a field trip crossed their path and slowed them down. He wasn’t complaining. He wanted to shake each of their grimy little hands. Once the way was clear again, Dana shot him a questioning look. He stuck to a slow jog and she stayed beside him.
“I didn’t realize it was so humid here,” he said. “Nothing like Houston, mind you, where the air is thicker than my mama’s country gravy.”
“That’s where you’re from?”
He nodded. “I just bought a house near Hollywood so I’ve been kind of bouncing back and forth.”
She checked her watch again. “We’re going to have to pick it up a bit to get you back in time.”
Damn it, he’d baited the hook and she hadn’t even taken a nip. “Ever been to California?”
“Nope. I haven’t been farther west than Indiana.”
“The west coast is like living in a whole different country. Haven’t decided if I like it or not yet.” He let a few moments lapse and when it was obvious she wasn’t going to comment, he added, “But that’s where the talent is, they tell me. Of course I’m thinking I might find a mother lode here on Broadway.”
She slowly looked at him, her brows furrowed with curiosity. “What kind of business are you in?” She blushed. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Up until now I’ve been involved in oil mostly. That’s how my daddy made the family money, anyway.” He paused and grinned. “I’m what you call going to divest and spend some of that money on films.”
She took a moment to digest what he’d said, and he was pleased to see interest flicker across her face. “You’re a producer.”
“That’s right. I have my eye on a play that I think will turn into a nice box-office hit. I’m meeting with the playwright tomorrow.”
“Ah.” She played it cool, scarcely showing anymore reaction, but he knew he’d gotten her attention.
“Wish I could tell you which one, darlin’, but I’m a bit superstitious about these things.”
“No, I don’t blame you. I didn’t mean to be nosy.”
He winked. “I thought we were just having a friendly conversation.”
She didn’t smile. “It’s just another mile out of the park. Want to pick up the pace for the last stretch?”
“Okay,” he said, wishing he knew what was going on in that pretty head of hers. What was her story? Had she come to New York to act? Model? Find a rich husband? He’d bet she was more ambitious than that. But places like New York and Hollywood could be ruthless and unforgiving and shatter a young girl’s dreams into a million pieces. Cause a lot of heartache and disappointment. Enough to make a person bitter. And bitterness changed a person.
The small ranching town outside of Dallas where he’d grown up had produced a couple of Hollywood hopefuls. Ashley Morgan had won most of the beauty pageants from Dallas to the panhandle, twirling that baton of hers and easing out everyone in the talent category. Senior year he’d gone out with her twice, probably due to curiosity on her part because of his muddy reputation, but he didn’t have anything she needed to further her career, so it had ended pronto. Hadn’t bothered him none.
Nah, ol’ Ashley hadn’t been the sharpest tool in the shed, but she had a body that wouldn’t quit. He’d heard it had gotten her a bit part in a B movie, then she got married to a fat, rich oilman and had a whole passel of kids.
They jogged around a curve and he saw the lineup of horses and carriages, and knew he had only a few minutes of information-gathering left. They had another appointment tomorrow morning, but he didn’t want to wait that long to find out what made Dana McGuire tick.
“I know I’m not the first one to tell you that you have perfect bone structure. You ever do any modeling? Is that why you came to New York?”
She hesitated, long enough that he expected her to tell him to go to hell. Great. The last thing he needed was her clamming up. He’d gone too fast, come on too strong. He should’ve waited until tomorrow to get to the next level, but he’d acted like a damn rookie. Which he wasn’t. He knew better. This was too important to screw up. If she had the ring, he needed to get it back.
2
“I WANTED to sing,” Dana said finally. “Or act. That’s why I came to New York. I was hoping to find work.” She shrugged. “It didn’t pan out, but I found something else I like to do. Something I like better.” She’d told herself that often enough that it should be true by now. To some degree it was.
Fitness had always been important to her. She’d run track in high school, and when she’d traveled the pageant circuit back in her teens, she’d used the stage to push fitness as a higher priority in schools. She’d always been passionate about the need to stay active as a health issue, but if she were given the chance at a singing or acting career…
No, she could not go there. After struggling for four years, and lying to her family back home, she’d made peace with her life. It was a good life, too. She had great friends, a family who loved her, a business that had grown impressively over the past three years. One that was a lot kinder than the entertainment industry. She was happy. Content.
“A singer, huh? Now, that surprises me.”
“Why?” They’d hit the street and she was suddenly anxious to get him back to the hotel and end their conversation. No use stirring up old hurts. So what if he was here scouting talent? She’d learned the hard way that she wasn’t anything special. Just a small-town girl who’d once stood a foot above the rest. Her hopes had died long ago. There were hundreds of women hungrier and more talented than she. Let him go use his urban-cowboy charm on one of them.
“Just figured that—well, guess it doesn’t matter.”
Fine with her. “There’s the hotel,” she said abruptly and pointed. “See it?”
“Yep.” He stopped, his gaze narrowing, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You giving me the brush off?”
To avoid getting run over by a group of Japanese tourists, she was forced to move back against a building. “Do you mind? My other appointment is across town.”
The large group was too busy listening to their guide and crowded the sidewalk to the point that Chase was literally pushed up against her. He flattened his hand against the brick beside her head and braced himself to keep from crushing her breasts.
“Sorry,” he murmured, his musky scent of pine and sweat oddly pleasing.
She had a feeling he wasn’t one bit sorry judging by the way his gaze stayed fixed on her mouth. “No problem.”
“Hope I didn’t hurt you.” He was a good four inches taller than her, and she was no slouch at five-nine.
She smiled. “They’re gone.”
“What?”
“You can move back now.”
He swung his gaze toward the retreating group. “Ah.” And then he straightened and lowered his hand, his eyes coming back to her face, his mouth curving in a sly grin. “Who knew you could get stampeded in New York City?”
She sidestepped him and moved closer to the street where she could get some much-needed air. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to be late.”
“What about your payment?”
“Are we still on for tomorrow morning?”
“Most definitely. I believe I booked you for a third morning, as well?”
“Right.” She stuck her hand out to hail a cab even though she really had plenty of time to hoof it the nine blocks to her next appointment. Best she get away from him now. Tomorrow she’d be better composed. “We’ll settle up at the end of your stay.”
“Why, you’re mighty trusting.”
A cab pulled to the curb and she opened the door. “Yeah.” Too trusting. Stupidly naive, in fact. As a result, she’d made mistakes. Shameful ones she could barely stand to think about. “Must be my midwest upbringing,” she murmured as she slid into the safety of the cab. God, when was she ever going to learn?
AFTER EATING a late lunch in the hotel’s bistro-style restaurant, which to Chase meant small portions, large tab, he stopped at the front desk. He recognized the short, dark-haired front-desk clerk from this morning when he’d met Dana in the lobby.
He also recognized the name on the gold tag she wore. She was on his list. “Good afternoon, Amy.”
She smiled, looking prettier than at first glance. “Good afternoon, Mr. Culver. What can I do for you?”
For a moment, it took him aback that she knew his name. But this was one of those ritzy hotels that pampered guests with big fluffy bath towels and Godiva chocolates on the pillows, so maybe it wasn’t that odd. He’d never stayed in a place like this before. Doubted he ever would again unless he was on the job.
“Well, darlin’, you can tell me if you have a big safe in the back for me to keep some of my valuables.” He gave her one of the big smiles that had gotten him into the back rooms of high-stakes’ poker games and into more trouble than he cared to think about.
“Yes, of course.” She smiled back. “But you do know you have a private one in your room, as well?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced over at the bellman standing at the end of the counter, and then Chase lowered his voice, “But I’ve heard rumors about a couple of thefts here in the past month.”
Amy blinked. “Um…”
“Now, I’m sure you’ve been instructed not to talk about it,” he said, leaning part way across the desk so that their faces were only inches apart. “And I don’t wanna get you in any trouble, but you see, I have this expensive diamond necklace I just purchased and I would be real unhappy if anything happened to it.”
She glanced around, opened her mouth to speak and then promptly shut it again. Their eyes met and she briefly pursed her lips. “If you’d like us to keep something in the hotel safe, that certainly can be arranged.”
Damn. He must be losing his touch. “But you think my room safe is sufficient?”
Her gaze narrowed and she bit indecisively at her lower lip. “I don’t have an opinion in that regard,” she said finally.
Chase smiled, wondering how hard he should push. “I’ll think on it.” He pushed away from the counter, at the same time noticing that no one manned the concierge desk. “Do you know when the concierge will be back?”
“I’ll page Kelly right away.”
Perfect. She was the assistant and just the woman he wanted to speak with. “No hurry,” he said. “Just looking for restaurant reservations. I’ll come back in an hour.”
He felt Amy’s gaze on him until he rounded the corner where he ended up near the double doors to the Crystal Ballroom. A member of the housekeeping staff was polishing an ornate brass lamp that sat on a table near the sign for the restrooms. She barely looked up and no one else was in sight so he pulled out the small notebook he kept in his inside breast pocket.
When his finger caught on something he looked down and realized he hadn’t yet removed the price tag from the new navy blue blazer he’d bought yesterday before getting on the plane to New York. He muttered a curse, glanced around to make sure no one had sneaked up on him, and then ripped out the tag.
He only owned one suit, which, unfortunately, had seen more funerals than weddings. His other sports jacket had gotten him through dozens of court appearances, but was slightly too worn for his role as Chase Culver, rich producer, son of an oilman. The snakeskin boots he wore he’d gladly forked over five hundred bucks for two years ago. There were some things a man just didn’t scrimp on.
After flipping through a couple of pages of his notebook, he found the name of the St. Martine’s head of security. Gil Wagoner was an ex-cop who had retired after twenty-one years on the job. Chase hadn’t managed to pull his jacket, but he did know that the man’s record hadn’t been particularly remarkable. Not a bad thing. Maybe no commendations decorated his walls, but he hadn’t been brought up on any charges, either. Probably one of those guys who showed up every day to eventually get that pension. No crime in that. A warm body in a uniform was all that was needed sometimes.
Chase exhaled and thought for a minute. He wasn’t quite ready to talk to the man yet. Better to get his own feel first. Let his gut point him in a direction before finding out who security or the cops thought looked good for the theft. They had to figure it was an inside job. Roscoe hadn’t been the only one who’d been ripped off. Chase knew of at least one other theft. Who knew how many more the hotel was keeping under wraps? No matter. Two was enough to make him think the perp was right here. Not another guest, but an employee.
Or someone like Dana.
Man, he hoped not. But she had means and opportunity and maybe a motive he didn’t know about yet, so he couldn’t rule her out. Wouldn’t be the first time a pretty face and great body had waylaid an investigation.
His cell phone rang, snagging the attention of the young woman polishing the lamp. He checked the caller ID and decided to let Buddy leave a message. Whatever his ex-partner had to say would be better discussed in the privacy of Chase’s room. He flipped the cell shut, briefly catching the eye of the maid. She smiled shyly and quickly looked away.
Chase tucked the small notebook and phone back into his pocket. Then he adjusted his collar and put his game face on. No use passing up an opportunity. The young woman slid him another look. He smiled and moved toward her. “Good morning, ma’am.”
WHEN Dana entered the lobby the next morning, Amy was busy helping a guest. Kelly was on the phone. Dana checked her watch. She still had fifteen minutes before she had to meet Chase and she’d hoped the girls could get away for a cup of coffee.
She really wanted to tell them about him. Naturally she wasn’t interested in his projects or what kind of talent he was scouting, but like her, Kelly and Amy had both come from small midwestern towns looking to break into show business. Unlike her, they hadn’t given up.
Kelly hung up the phone and motioned Dana over to her desk. “You have time for coffee?” Kelly asked, shooting a look toward the door to the executive offices.
“Absolutely. I purposely came early.”
“You have a client?” Kelly closed her appointment book and slipped her gold Cross pen into the top drawer of her black-lacquer-and-glass desk.
“Yep.”
“Same one as yesterday?”
Dana nodded. “Chase Culver. He’s the reason I wanted to talk to the two of you.”
“I’d like to do more than talk to him. The guy’s hot.”
She shrugged. “He’s okay.”
Kelly snorted. “Are we talking about the same man?”
Dana grinned. “So he’s a little more than okay.”
