Adrienne Giordano Read online

  Eddie nodded. “Yeah, that’s Ms. Dante’s car. She usually parks in the lot, but asked us to keep an eye on it today.”

  The boss was worried her car would get boosted. The way Monk was hovering, he might be the booster.

  “I don’t blame her,” Monk said. “Damn, this is an amazing car.”

  Again with the car envy. “Let’s get focused here.”

  How funny was that? Billy telling someone else to get focused.

  A second valet jogged up and Eddie tossed him a set of keys. “Put those in the box.”

  “You keep the valet keys in a lockbox? Is it out here?”

  Eddie motioned them to a podium to the left of the entrance where his partner was storing keys in a decorative steel box built into the front of the building. The valet closed and locked it, and—pretty slick—the box, painted the exact color of the building, blended into the façade.

  “Do you lock the keys in here each time?”

  “Unless we get slammed. Then we hang on to them and do a bunch at the same time.”

  Monk, who had less than five minutes before his girlfriend accosted a pool boy, squatted and studied the lock on the box. “Who has keys to this?”

  “There are two of us here full-time. On weekends, we bring in extra guys. There’s only two keys so we pass them back and forth. At the end of the shift we turn the keys in.”

  A young couple walked up the driveway and Eddie greeted them. When Monk stepped away from the box, Billy bent low to examine it. Piece of shit lock could be picked with a paper clip. He straightened, grabbed his trusty pad and pencil from his back pocket and noted it. “Do the keys in the box get turned in every night?”

  “Yeah. They store them in the valet office off the lobby. That’s where people go when they’re ready to pick up. They turn in the ticket, the person working the inside desk gets the keys and calls us on the radio. Doing the back-end stuff inside keeps this area clear. It’s nuts here on Friday and Saturday nights because of the clubs.”

  Billy jotted notes as Eddie yapped. They hadn’t seen the clubs yet. “They’re on the top floor?”

  Eddie nodded. “One in each tower.”

  The baby-faced bellman who had to be all of twenty years old, leaped from his perch at the side of the door and stood at attention. Billy spotted Kristen, on yet another pair of stilt shoes that he’d dream about for a week, exiting the hotel in a stretchy, light pink dress topped with a loose, short-sleeved cardigan. Yoi, the rack. Too bad she had to hide it under the grandma sweater. She carried a briefcase in her left hand and flipped her hair over her shoulder with the other. Billy’s knees went soft. Of course, other parts went hard, but he couldn’t help that completely male reaction to a woman such as this.

  “Hi, guys.” She waved to the bellman. “Hi, Bruno.”

  “Afternoon, Ms. Kristen.”

  She stopped in front of them. “How’s it going?”

  “Good,” Monk said.

  “Yuh.” Billy hoped she wouldn’t notice the bulge in his jeans. Jesus. The second she hit his radar he’d turned into a horny teenager.

  After shooting him eyeball missiles—as if he could help staring?—Monk shifted back to Kristen. “Great event last night.”

  She slid her gaze to Billy who, yes, continued to gawk at her. There couldn’t be a single man to disagree with him on this one. And, in his mind, that made it okay. Sort of.

  “Despite the police activity, it was a great event. Thank you.”

  “Here are your keys, ma’am,” the valet said.

  “Thank you.” She motioned Billy and Monk to the car so they’d be out of earshot. “I parked it up here today.”

  Monk nodded. “Until you figure out what happened last night, it’s not a bad idea. It’s a great-looking car.”

  “I love this car.”

  Monk dropped one of his million-watters on her. “I love this car too.”

  Billy rolled his eyes. “He’s a car freak. Be careful or he’ll ask to drive it.”

  Her eyes flashed and she let out a crack of laughter that left him wanting to hear it at odd hours of the night. Very odd hours. In bed.

  “I think you’re S.O.L.,” he said to Monk.

  “Don’t take offense. My father is the only other person who has driven it. This car, gentlemen, was my bonus when we opened the hotel.”

  She ran her free hand over the side of the car, her fingers slowly stroking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Holy crud. Billy suspected his boner would last a good, long while.

  Monk cleared his throat because even he, a guy toasted in love with his girlfriend—who incidentally, was about to find an entertaining pool boy—couldn’t remain unaffected by this level of sex appeal.

  “Wow,” Billy said.

  “So,” Madame Hotness said, “it would be a very big deal if I let you drive this car.”

  “I understand,” Monk said.

  She grinned. “Good. Because if I let you drive then I’ll have to let Billy drive too.” She turned to him. “Is that what you want?”

  “Lady,” he said. “that is a seriously loaded question right now.”

  * * *

  Clearly Kristen had made a mistake. “I’m sorry?”

  “Ah, crap. I knew it wouldn’t take long for him to screw me up.”

  She swung her gaze back to Peter. “I’m sorry?” For some bizarre reason, she had no clue what else to say.

  “Kristen!”

  The three of them turned toward the door to see her sister, Jess, her perfect legs encased in a tight, sky blue mini-skirt, charging toward them.

  Kristen gritted her teeth and spun toward Jess. “I’m on my way to a meeting.”

  “Well, it’ll have to wait. Your club manager is an asshole. He treats me like I’m eye candy.”

  You are eye candy. Normally, Kristen would take her aside and politely correct her in a firm, but hushed voice. With two hotel contractors and staff members witnessing Jess’s total disregard of professionalism, Kristen was beyond that. Still, she kept her voice at a reasonable level. “You watch your tongue when guests can hear you. I don’t need you causing a scene. And, how dare you, at twenty-four and just now tackling a job, refer to one of my employees that way? You’ll do what he tells you.”

  “Our father owns this place.”

  “And your sister runs it. That doesn’t give you permission to be nasty to a manager. Go home and chill out. Don’t bother calling Dad and complaining. He’s letting me deal with your employment here.”

  Jess fisted her hands at her side. Good. Let her be mad. Time for her to grow up and be responsible for her own actions. “Take the weekend off. Come back to work Monday morning with a better attitude.”

  “O.M.G.”

  “That’s the best you’re getting from me, Jess, and it’s more than you deserve right now.”

  Jess scrunched her sculpted nose. Who knew such facial perfection could so easily transform to a pig face. Then, Jess’s man-vibe must have beeped because she glanced over Kristen’s shoulder to Billy and Peter.

  “Billy Tripp. I heard you were here.”

  They knew each other?

  “Jess,” Billy said.

  Sticking her arm out, Jess shoved around Kristen, stood smack in front of Billy and studied his extremely appealing body like a prowling panther. An immediate sizzle shot up Kristen’s neck and she hated it.

  Despised it.

  On some physical level, regardless of his staring problem, she was attracted to him. And a guy like Billy Tripp, in all his blue-eyed, dark-haired splendor, would easily fall for her beautiful sister.

  And what did that say about the three of them?

  Nothing good. Billy would be typical, Jess would be her trampy self and Kristen would be sick with envy. Oh, yes, they’d be quite a bunch.

  How the hell did Jess always make her feel inferior? Dammit. She had a master’s degree and yet she wasn’t smart enough to disregard her sister.

  To Kristen’s horror
, Jess ran a finger down the front of Billy’s T-shirt. “Last time I saw you, things got a little rough.”

  He glanced at Kristen, met her gaze for a second too long and then ever so slowly shifted back to Jess. “That’s because you bit me.”

  “You were manhandling me.”

  I so don’t want to hear this. Not that she hadn’t heard her sister’s sexual exploits before. No, those were well documented. Particularly on the internet, thanks to her last loser boyfriend.

  Peter clapped his hands and the sound pierced the air like a gun blast. “Let’s get moving here.”

  “Excellent suggestion,” Kristen said. “Jess, I’ll see you on Monday. Do not come here this weekend. Not even for the clubs.”

  Jess threw her shoulders back and her eyes filled with that cold, menacing brattiness Kristen had seen many times. “You’re such a bitch.”

  The verbal assault left a hot, stinging sensation under her skin. But wasn’t this normal? After all she’d done for Jess, this is what she got. In front of virtual strangers no less. Technically they were guests of the hotel, which made the whole scenario more humiliating. With both hands wrapped around the handle of her briefcase, she stepped forward an inch. “Stop. Right now. You’re in front of guests. Maybe you don’t care, but I do. Keep it up and I won’t bail you out of jail next time.”

  Jess sucked air through her nose, grunted loud enough for Billy and Peter to hear and stormed toward the lobby doors.

  “Wow,” Billy said.

  Apparently he was back to his limited, one word vocabulary. Kristen turned back to see his gaze focused on her in a way that alerted her insecurities and made her shoulders curl. Why did she let these people all make her feel uncomfortable? She jabbed her finger over her shoulder. “I need to speak to you a minute.”

  “Here we go,” Peter said.

  “Just Billy.” She strode to the front of her car. Fury whipped at her and she spun around, found Billy right on her heels and smacked her head against his chin. “Ow!”

  Pain radiated through her forehead and her vision went white for a second. But then he rubbed the assaulted spot with a gentleness that turned her liquid. Nice hands. Warm hands. Attentive hands.

  For a leech.

  But still, she stayed there, letting him touch her. When was the last time a man had touched her? In any way. Particularly a man one who looked like this. The closeness of his body, all the male heat, burned into her and her stomach squeezed. How desperate was she for attention that she’d take a simple gesture of comfort as affection?

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You okay?”

  She stepped back. An outrageously good-looking man touching her was the last thing her deprived body needed. A guy like him could make her forget all about being a woman who didn’t sleep around. “I’m fine. But I need you to quit staring at me like I have food on my face. And other places. If you know what I mean.”

  Please don’t humiliate me into saying you need to stop ogling my boobs.

  He raised his hands. “You’re right. I apologize. It’s…uh…ah, ship.”

  “Ship?”

  “I told my mom I’d stop swearing.”

  “Oh.” Didn’t that little fact set her back some? This nutball loved his mother enough to stop swearing. The leech had a heart. “Anyway, please stop staring at me. It makes me uncomfortable.”

  “Right. No problem.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Sure.”

  She stepped around him and unlocked the car door, but he beat her to it and opened it. Well, that was nice. Even if he most likely slept with her sister.

  “Thank you, again.” She slid into the car, tossed her briefcase on the seat and turned back to him still holding the door open.

  “FYI,” he said. “It isn’t food on your face. I just like looking at you.”

  * * *

  After her meeting, Kristen returned to the hotel only to be told by her assistant that several managers were concerned over Billy questioning them regarding the stolen cars. Suddenly this man was everywhere he shouldn’t be. Including her thoughts.

  “What kind of questions?”

  Dee shrugged. “No idea.”

  Kristen bit her bottom lip. “I guess I’ll find him and ask.”

  And wouldn’t that be fun after their earlier conversation when he announced he liked her looks. Even if she believed a stud like him would be attracted to a fat Amazon, Billy Tripp was clearly a hit-and-run driver and she had no interest in that kind of rejection. She just had to convince her deprived body.

  Marching into her office, she called Peter to get the hit-and-run driver’s number. Twenty minutes later, just as she was about to shove a forkful of salad—so sick of salads—into her mouth, he strolled into her office in orange swim trunks and a sleeveless T-shirt.

  And oh, the arms on this man.

  He grinned at her and she realized the fork was still in midair. Darn it. She set it in the bowl and shoved everything aside. “Have a seat, Billy.”

  He slid into one of her guest chairs. “About earlier.”

  “That’s not why you’re here.”

  “Oh.”

  Leveling her best I’m-in-charge stare on him, she got right to it. “A few of my managers told me you questioned them regarding the thefts last night. What’s that about?”

  Billy shrugged. “I’m the curious sort. Thought I might be able to help with the investigation.”

  Keeping a straight face suddenly became a problem. The jewelry guy. Investigating. “How about we leave that to the police?”

  “Have they told you anything?”

  Not much. She’d never admit that. “They’ve told me enough.”

  “Any suspects?”

  “Not yet.” Why was she even answering him?

  “Have they located the cars yet?”

  She let out a long breath. Telling him the antitheft systems on the cars had been disabled would only spur his curiosity. Heck, she herself was curious about that one. Clearly these were no amateur thieves if they could dismantle the security system on a three hundred thousand dollar car. “I’m asking you to let the police do their jobs.”

  “I am. In a way. I’m staying clear of them. Doing my own thing.”

  “Yes, but that’s a problem. I run this hotel and you’re distracting my employees. I don’t want issues with the police.”

  He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and tapped his cheek with one finger. A few seconds later he said, “Okay. I’ll leave the employees alone. How’s that?”

  “Perfect.”

  He sat forward. “See, I’m not unreasonable.”

  “You also didn’t say you’d stop investigating. All you said was you wouldn’t bug my employees.”

  “Ouch.”

  She folded her hands on her desk. This situation required a certain amount of control. They both wanted it, but she’d be the one to get it. One thing she couldn’t stand was a lack control. “Look, Billy Tripp, I didn’t come to running this hotel because I’m a pushover for a cute guy. Stay out of the way and we’ll get along just fine. Can you do that?”

  He stood, placed his hands on the desk and leaned in. “Sweetheart, I can do whatever you need.”

  Chapter Three

  The minute Billy was out of her office, Kristen dialed her father’s number. It would be midnight in Dubai, but she needed his counsel and hoped he’d forgive her.

  “Hi, Krissy,” he said in the warm baritone that always managed to offer comfort.

  She smiled at the childhood nickname. Jess had been the one who had started it. As a toddler, she’d never been able to say Kristen and shortened the name to Krissy. These days, their father seemed to be the only one calling her Krissy. “Did I wake you up?”

  “No. I’m reading contracts.”

  “Dad, it’s late. You should be sleeping.”

  “Then you would have woken me up.”

  That was true. “But I’m your favorite oldest daughter. I’m allowed.
”

  “How silly of me to forget. You need to come to Dubai and see this property. It might be more beautiful than Dante Miami.”

  “Dad! How dare you say that to me?” Despite her admonition, a hit of pride bloomed and she did a little chair dance. Dante Miami had been her brainchild and her father had given her the opportunity of a lifetime in designing it. An opportunity she remained grateful for. Dante Dubai would be the newer version and she’d had a hand in that also. All the design elements she’d found lacking in Miami had been corrected for the Dubai hotel. The property would be nothing short of spectacular.

  “I know,” Dad said, “but you’ve outdone yourself.”

  She glanced at the ancient photo sitting on her desk. The two of them stood in front of a half-completed building and Kristen wore a giant hardhat on her nine-year old head. That had been the beginning of her obsession with beautiful buildings. Even then he’d encouraged her ambitions. “Well, thank you. I’m glad you’re happy with it.”

  “Let’s talk about the thefts. Are the Taylor Security people still there? We can call them in for recommendations.”

  Calling them in. That’s all she needed. Bad enough Billy was doing his own investigation. “I think the police have it under control, Dad. They took copies of all the security footage and said they would update me today.”

  “Yes, but honey, how do we keep this from happening again?”

  Maybe he had a point. She supposed recommendations on security upgrades in the parking areas were in order. She tapped a pen against her desk. “We do have Ed Freeborn’s daughter getting married here.”

  And when the United States Senate Majority Leader threw a three-day party, all his rich friends came. Particularly when said senator and his friends lived in the Miami area. They’d have high-end cars lining the parking lot.

  “Krissy, we want people talking about the beauty of the hotel. Not the thefts. You’ve been working your tail off to put Dante on the worldwide map, and people worrying about their safety could destroy us.”

  “I agree.”

  “Were we the only hotel hit?”

  The pen tapping started to annoy even her. She tossed it on her desk. “I’m not sure. There’s been nothing in the papers and I don’t want to start asking questions. Do you know anyone at the police department? Maybe they can tell us.”