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“Nothing.” His vice president’s other question repeated in his head. “Hold off on a press release just yet. Listen, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
He reached to disconnect the regular phone without waiting for a reply. He’d forgotten to tell Liz about his six p.m. appointment, but his jaw clenched in irritation that she hadn’t stuck her head in to let him know Gina Allen had arrived. Why the hell had she sent a text when she knew how distracted he got while working?
Stepping out of his study, he guessed that the decorator would most likely have left by now. Lord knows he wouldn’t have hung around had someone been so rude to him. On the bright side, it would get him off the hook about hiring her. But as he passed through the kitchen into the great room, he grimaced at the thought of his mother’s annoyance.
A glance out the foyer windows spotted a car parked out front and brought his bare feet to a halt.
She waited?
She must be really desperate.
He turned from the door and spotted a briefcase on the floor by the wall. The fasteners were undone, and the open wedge between the top and bottom invited him to look inside. Further surveillance of the room revealed no one to go with the case. Resisting the urge to check out the contents, he hooked his thumbs in his front pockets and ambled down the hallway to the guest rooms.
None of them contained the missing interior decorator. Obviously, the woman was scoping out his place on her own. Probably so she could figure out how much to milk him for.
Back in the great room, his gaze landed on the unfastened briefcase again. There was that whole thing about turnabout and fair play, but after the last two women he’d dated, he didn’t even need that much justification to hunker down on his heels to lift the top. Besides, a quick flip through her portfolio would help him figure out in advance if she was worth putting off for a few months, or if it was best to nip everything in the bud tonight.
As he let the lid rest against the wall, a handful of business cards slipped from a pocket and fanned across the manila folders inside. He scooped them up and tidied them into a neat stack in his hand. The top one read: Gina Allen, GAllen Designs.
Extending his free hand, he used one finger to move aside the top file folders in search of something that might contain pictures of her previous work. Nothing looked promising until he spotted the electronic tablet tucked into a pocket on the lid. Ah, well, if the samples were on there, he’d have to wait for her after all.
Before closing the case to continue his search for Ms. Allen, he thumbed through the business cards to see if he recognized any of her previous clients. The first two didn’t ring any bells, but the name on the third card stopped him cold. In the next second, angry heat seared through his body.
Technology Software. Jackson Brady.
What was her connection to his thieving ex-business partner from college? He supposed she could have done some decorating work for Jack and this was a mere coincidence, but with everything going on lately, suspicion had him conduct a more thorough search of the contents of the briefcase while he had the chance.
One of the folders held financial statements, and the ending balance confirmed his mother was right about the woman’s money issues. The other two had names that sounded like church organizations or something. He moved on, but didn’t find Jack’s name anywhere else. For now, he’d have to bide his time until he could verify the connection—if there was one.
He closed the briefcase and rose to his feet. Time to locate Ms. Allen.
Glancing between the stairs leading to the loft and the ones leading down, he decided to head up first. When he reached the top step, he glanced right, then left, and spun back to the right when he noticed his bedroom door ajar.
He silently stalked across the carpet, but paused just outside the room when he caught sight of a woman at the windows, standing with her back to him. Her slim body was silhouetted against the glass, and she was bathed in the fiery colors of the orange and red sunset.
Her height reached maybe five-six or five-seven, but what really drew his attention was her dress. It was a form-fitting, ankle-length black number with long sleeves and an open back that provided a generous view of the graceful line of her spine. His pulse twinged.
Very sexy.
She turned in his direction, her face downcast, shiny auburn hair blocking her profile. He flicked his gaze down to the notebook that held her complete attention. Her fingers gripped a pencil as her right hand flew over the paper in quick sketching motions. The laser focus she exhibited was something he found very familiar.
The hand with the pencil lifted to tuck the hair behind her ear, and his gaze followed the movement. With his first glimpse of her face, his breath hitched even as his pulse took off at triple speed.
What the hell?
Cinderella from the club.
An initial rush of excitement was doused by a succession of thoughts that exploded his earlier suspicion even as he scanned the front of her plunging neckline.
She had Jack’s business card in her briefcase.
She’d been at the club at the same time as Brady.
When she’d walked up and kissed him, his ex-partner had taken the opportunity to disappear.
Sure, the thief had been crawling all over some blond, and their tables hadn’t even been near each other, but that didn’t mean Jack hadn’t paid the woman in front of him to provide a distraction.
Like now. Her dress reached to the floor, but the slits on either side rose well above mid-thigh. They revealed shapely legs and a high pair of spike heels guaranteed to hot-wire the libido of any red-blooded male. God help him, he could still remember the feel of that lithe body when she’d kissed him into oblivion before dashing off into the night.
