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“The best thing to do is call the most recent number. If it isn’t the person looking for their phone, it’s a friend or family member who can tell you how to get ahold of them.” She tapped the phone and then hit speaker.
With each ring, Nash grew more and more uncomfortable. All he needed was Kelly finding out about the escorts he hired. There was absolutely no chance in hell that she would be able to keep her mouth shut. And Nash didn’t want his midnight rendezvous being tweeted around the world.
“Obviously, no one’s at home.” He went to hit the button to end the call, when a man answered.
“Well, it’s about time you called your grandparents, Eden. Your grandmother was about to call out the National Guard. And don’t give me any excuses about having two jobs. I called The Lemon Drop last night, and the girl who answered said you’d taken last night off. And if you can take off a night from your busy schedule, you can stop by to see your grandparents.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Kelly said. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I found your granddaughter’s cell phone last night.”
“Found it? Or stole it? I’m calling the cops—”
“No!” Nash said a little too quickly. “I mean there’s no need to involve the police. I’m sure your granddaughter just accidentally dropped it.”
“Who the hell are you?” Grandpa asked.
Nash cleared his throat. “I’m the one who found your granddaughter’s phone. And if she works at The Lemon Drop, I’ll be happy to see she gets it back.” Then before the man could ask any more questions, Nash hung up. He turned to find Kelly studying him with a calculated look.
“Okay, so what’s going on?” she asked.
He tried to give her a carefree smile. “Nothing’s going on. I happen to know where The Lemon Drop is, and I’m going to make sure the woman gets her phone back.”
Kelly’s eyes narrowed. “If you say so. But that doesn’t explain why the coolest Beaumont looks like a little boy who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.”
CHAPTER THREE
Hey, Huckabee.” Mike Foster peeked over her cubicle. “The Dragon Lady wants to see you in her office.”
Eden saved the article she’d been working on about the upcoming Bay City Marathon before giving Mike her attention. “Now?”
“No.” He smirked. “Tomorrow.”
Using her toes, she searched for her high heels beneath the desk. “Did she look happy or mad?”
“It’s hard to tell. With circulation down, she constantly wears a scowl. So I wouldn’t keep her waiting if I was you.” He watched as she slipped on her shoes. “So did you get my text about going for sushi tonight?”
“No. I lost my phone last night and haven’t had a chance to get a new one.” Or not lost it as much as left it. Once Eden had discovered that she’d left her phone in the suite, she’d called the hotel looking for it. It still hadn’t shown up. Which meant that a deviant pervert or someone in housekeeping now owned her cell phone. Between getting rejected by the Dark Seducer and losing her phone, last night had been a complete bust.
“Thanks for the invite,” she said as she saved her article and got to her feet, “but I’m bartending tonight.”
Mike shook his head. “Did anyone ever tell you that all work and no play makes for a pathetic life, Huckabee?”
“Just my entire family,” she called over her shoulder as she headed down the hall toward Stella’s office. When she got there, she tapped lightly on the open door before walking in. Stella sat behind the desk wearing her usual beige pants and black sweater. She had her chair swiveled toward her computer and was reading the article on the screen. Even from that distance, Eden could see that it was the first story she’d written about Madison. Excitement swelled, and it took everything she had not to slap the air in a high five. This was it. All her hard work and dedication was finally going to pay off. Stella was going to promote her, and Eden was going to reach her goal of becoming a true journalist.
Stella swiveled the chair and looked at Eden through the red-framed reading glasses perched on her nose. “It’s shit.”
Eden blinked. “What?”
“Your story is shit.” Stella grabbed one of the many coffee mugs on her desk and took a sip. Her scowl deepened. “Is it too much to ask for a hot cup of coffee?” She set the mug down with a thump that had coffee splashing on the stack of articles beneath it. She ignored the mess and pointed to the chair across from her. More than a little stunned, it took a moment for Eden to sit down. Once she did, Stella leaned back in her chair and released a long, exasperated sigh.
“When I asked you to do a series of stories on prostitutes, I wanted a dark, bittersweet series about the nefarious side of the streets of San Francisco.” She waved a hand at her computer. “I did not want stories about a high-end escort who plays canasta with wealthy old men for a new bauble or a vacation to the Bahamas.”
“But Madison doesn’t just play canasta,” Eden said. “That was just one story she told me. She’s told me a lot of others. Including one about a guy who hires escorts to take off their clothes while he talks dirty in the dark. In fact, I actually met the guy—”
Stella’s chair squeaked as she sat forward. “A guy who talks dirty in the dark? Just what is nefarious about that? My husband talks dirty in the dark. Now if it was the mayor talking dirty to a high-end hooker, that would be a story. But some Joe Blow hiring an escort to take off her clothes means absolutely nothing to anyone.”
It had meant something to Eden. After leaving the hotel, she couldn’t seem to get the man out of her head. The hint of Southern drawl in his voice. The scent of musk. The heat that seemed to emanate from his pores like asphalt in the middle of August as he’d slipped her dress on and walked her to the door. Everything about him had stayed with her. And she couldn’t understand why a man she hadn’t even seen had such an effect on her.
She also couldn’t understand how Stella could think her story was shit.
