The Wilde Side (8 page)

"It's important to me to get the job, do it right and under budget, and make a successful leap into bidding and winning commercial tile restoration work," Scott explained succinctly. "You're either with me on this, or not."

"Of course I'm with you," Alex said, resigned, then stepped up to the drafting table. "Come on, we'll review the numbers one last time. I have about forty minutes before I'm meeting Dana for a quickie lunch."

Thankful for the switch in topic that shifted the attention away from him, Scott lifted an inquisitive brow his brother's way. "A quickie lunch, huh? Is that what they're calling it these days?"

Alex grinned wickedly, giving himself away.

Chuckling, Scott turned the pages on the large set of plans until he came to a sheet that detailed the sweeping staircase in the St. Claire Hotel lobby. "Are things going well with Dana?"

"As well as can be, I suppose," Alex said with a shrug that spoke volumes to Scott.

"Do I detect some hesitation there?"

"Not on my end." Alex rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, appearing troubled. "She's the one who seems reluctant to give me the kind of commitment I'm ready for."

"The old Wilde charm not working for you?" Scott teased.

"It was working just fine, until I mentioned the 'L' word. She panicked and made herself scarce for a few days, which was hell on my ego since she's the only woman I've ever said that word to. The next time I saw her she acted like the discussion never happened, and now I'm leery about bringing it up again." He glanced at Scott, his dark brows furrowed over his blue eyes. "I just don't get it. Don't women want a guy who's going to profess his feelings and offer them that ultimate commitment?"

"How the hell would I know?" Scott felt as though he was the last person who should be giving his brother advice on his love life when his own track record with women was far from impressive. "I've crashed and burned myself, and I don't think I'll ever understand women and the way their minds work."

"Me either," Alex agreed.

They laughed in male comradery, shook their heads at the fickleness of the female gender, and discussed the one thing they both understood extremely well – estimates and bids.

*

Ashley double-checked the boutique's inventory sheet a second time, which listed all the fine jewelry that hadn't yet sold, then glanced back at the glass enclosed case displaying the various designer pieces still on hand. The Aaron Basha diamond shoe charm, worth well over a thousand dollars, was nowhere to be found. But according to her sales records, it hadn't been sold, either. It was the second piece of jewelry to go unaccounted for in the past three months, not to mention a few of the higher end collectibles that had gone missing, as well.

Ashley locked the display case, which only the boutique employees had access to, and tried not to jump to any conclusions until she had hard evidence to back up her suspicion of employee theft. But the mere thought of any of her trusted employees stealing made her stomach twist with dread. She prided herself on her careful screening of each applicant, as well as doing a thorough background check before offering anyone a position within the boutique.

Her long-term employees were as loyal as they come, but in the past six months she'd hired on two new salespeople, both of whom were working the afternoon shift today. There was Celeste, a young college student who worked part-time to make ends meet and seemed to have a good rapport with the hotel guests, and James, who had over six years of retail sales experience and had an amazing flair with women that garnered him high sales and a monthly commission check that was the envy of the other employees. Both of them were just as well liked and dependable as the rest of the boutique staff.

Ashley waited until there weren't any customers in the boutique before she approached James and Celeste, who were standing behind the front counter. "Did either of you happen to sell the Aaron Basha diamond shoe charm we had on display, or know who did?" she asked, going with the slim possibility that the sale was an oversight on her inventory sheet.

Celeste shook her head. "I didn't sell it."

"Neither did I," James said as he restocked the signature St. Claire Hotel tissue paper they used to wrap delicate purchases. "It was in the display case yesterday afternoon when I left work, but it was gone today when I started my shift."

So, sometime between yesterday and today the expensive charm had disappeared. And the person working last night's shift was Joan, the boutique's assistant manager of two years. Ashley had a hard time believing that Joan was responsible for the missing jewelry.

Holding out hope that the assistant manager had an explanation for the unaccounted-for charm, she headed to her office in the back of the boutique to contact Joan privately and away from listening ears. One quick phone call confirmed that the elderly woman had not sold or misplaced the Aaron Basha piece. In fact, Joan claimed the charm wasn't in the case when she'd arrived for work yesterday afternoon, which contradicted James's statement.

Ashley rubbed her fingers against her throbbing temples, feeling weary and upset by the notion that there was a possible thief in their midst. With no solid explanation forthcoming from any of her employees about the nowhere-to-be-found charm, she knew she'd have to dig a little deeper for answers and a culprit. Whoever was responsible for the disappearing items in the boutique had to be stopped, and there was only one last resource she had to help her nail the crook.

Finishing up the last of the jewelry order that had brought the missing charm to her attention, she shut down her computer, grabbed her inventory file, and headed across the hotel lobby to the private offices located next to the registration area. Using her key card, she entered the corridor and knocked on Evan's half-closed door.

"Come on in," he said absently.

She stepped inside the spacious, plush office that had once been her father's, but had been passed on to Evan when Charles St. Claire had taken an early retirement. Ashley hadn't seen Evan since her birthday Saturday evening when he'd dropped her off at the hotel after dinner with her family, and she wanted to keep this visit as quick and businesslike as possible.

"Do you have a few minutes?" she asked.

Evan glanced up from the paperwork he'd just scrawled his signature across and smiled at her. "For you, absolutely." Placing his monogrammed Mont Blanc pen in its holder, he leaned back in his chair, very at ease in his position of president and CEO of the company. "Is everything okay?"

Ashley didn't sit down as she normally would; she didn't plan on staying longer than it took to enlist Evan's help. Her sister had called her earlier that morning asking if they could meet for lunch in the hotel's restaurant, and that was in ten minutes. There had been something in the tone of Madison's voice that had concerned Ashley, so much so that she hadn't been able to refuse her sister's request, no matter how busy and hectic Ashley's schedule was.

"I need security to go over the boutique's surveillance tapes for the past few days," she told Evan.

He frowned, obviously realizing where the conversation was heading. "Something else gone missing?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Another piece of jewelry. This one an Aaron Basha diamond shoe charm that retails for over a thousand dollars." She handed him the inventory file with her sales records and a picture of the designer charm for him to pass on to the person who reviewed the tapes so they'd know what to look for.

"The thief is getting bolder, and the items are getting pricier," he said with a disgusted shake of his head, then glanced back at her, his gaze not offering up much optimism. "I want to catch the culprit as much as you do, but you know the last two times we went over the surveillance tapes we couldn't find any evidence that any of your employees were stealing."

Frustration gripped her hard, giving her tone a sharp, demanding edge she rarely used. "Someone is taking merchandise from the boutique, and I want to find out who it is so we can press charges and can their butt. There has got to be something on those tapes that security is missing. Whenever an employee opens the display case, I want security to watch them until the end of their shift to make sure that nothing is going into a pocket or purse at some point."

"You're right," he agreed. "I'll have them get on it right away."

She forced herself to relax again, to let the stress of the last hour ebb from her tense body. "I'm leaving for San Francisco in the morning to inventory that boutique as well and check the bookkeeping. I'll be gone for three days and plan to be back on Friday, but if anything at all comes up in the meantime, let me know immediately."

"You know I will." A charming twinkle appeared in his eyes, softening her mood even more. "We are working on the same team, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Evan had as much personally and emotionally invested in the St. Claire Hotels as she did, and she knew she could count on his promise. She also knew he wished that "being on the same team" meant something more intimate than their working relationship. "Thank you for your help."

Before she could turn to go, which she had every intention of doing, Evan tossed out a question that stopped her cold.

"By the way, did you have a good time Saturday night celebrating your birthday with friends?"

Her heart stammered at his question, a frisson of unease shivered up her spine, and her legs suddenly felt weak. This was a conversation she didn't want to have with Evan because she hated lying – and she feared he'd discover the truth. Which
couldn't
happen.

Somehow, someway, she found the will to smile and speak without her voice betraying her in any way. "Yes, I had a wonderful time."

He tipped his head, regarding her curiously. "Where did you end up going?"

Straight to heaven, numerous times
. The traitorous thought slipped through her mind before she could stop it, making her breath hitch in her chest.

Oh, God
. She struggled to curb the intimate and very tantalizing thoughts tumbling through her head and failed. She'd managed to keep the provocative memories of her night with Scott at bay since arriving at the boutique that morning and immersing herself in work, but now they all came rushing back, flooding her mind with erotic images of his sensual mouth skimming along her body, the two of them entwined together, and the way she'd shamelessly moaned his name when he'd slid into her that last time before she'd left his bed in the middle of the night.

Her skin flushed at the recollection of so much passion and desire, and she couldn't suppress the deep, yearning ache that blossomed within her whenever she thought of Scott and what they'd shared in just a few short hours. There was also a wealth of regret for sneaking out on him and leaving him to wake up alone – never to see her again.

Her head knew it couldn't be any other way, but her body and heart... Oh, how they wished otherwise.

"Ashley?"

She jerked her gaze back to Evan, who was staring at her expectantly, in a way that seemed to see beyond her attempt at nonchalance. Did he know how she'd really spent Saturday evening and was testing her? Did she have
illicit affair
written all over her face?

If so, she wasn't giving anything away. "We went for a few drinks at Rive Gauche," she said, naming a Chicago nightclub that she was fairly certain Evan would never step foot in because it was too rowdy and retro for his taste. Then she made a show of checking her watch. "I need to get going. I'm meeting my sister for lunch and don't want to keep her waiting."

She slipped out of his office before anything more could be said and headed to the hotel restaurant. Bypassing the guests waiting to be seated for lunch, she made her way to the family's reserved table, located in a private corner of the casual establishment, and found her sister already there, with Sophie sitting in her lap gnawing on a colorful teething ring.

"I'm sorry I'm late." Ashley placed a kiss on her niece's cherub cheek, and the child promptly gave her a squeal of delight upon seeing her. One look at her sister's pale face and the dark circles under her eyes made all of Ashley's own problems and thoughts of her night with Scott completely vanish from her mind.

She slid into the booth opposite Madison, her protective instincts rising to the surface. Her sister was five years younger than she and from the day she'd been born Ashley had put away her collection of dolls for the real thing. She'd fussed over Madison, helped her mother bottle-feed her, insisted on pushing her in the stroller, and even learned to change her diapers.

She'd always adored Madison, and because she'd formed this special, close bond with her sister at such an early age, Ashley was particularly in tune to even the subtlest changes to her normally sunny, cheerful disposition.

"Maddie, honey, are you all right?" she asked with gentle concern.

Her sister shrugged and offered a halfhearted smile. "I'm just tired. Sophie is teething, and she's been waking up in the middle of the night instead of sleeping through like she normally does. It's disrupting everyone's schedule."

Reaching across the table, Ashley plucked Sophie from Maddie's arms and brought the little imp over to her side of the booth. The baby girl made a sputtering sound, and her green eyes grew round with excitement to find herself the object of someone else's attention. Ashley's heart expanded with affection for this little girl who accepted her so unconditionally and with such great joy.