that photo spread in Luxury Traveler I negotiated for the hotel?” Stephen said. “Fourteen pages of priceless coverage in one of the top travel magazines in the world?
I worked with the editorial director, schmoozed him, wined him, dined him, let him stay in the penthouse with a young woman who was definitely not his wife. Remember?”
“Of course,” Parker said. “That editorial coverage will be equivalent to a hundred thousand worth of ad dollars for the Grand.”
Stephen snorted. “Not anymore. He’s changed his mind and is waiting for Hotel Victoria to open. He’s using that as the background for the photo shoot and story about the latest hip and hot hotels in South Beach.”
“What?” Parker slammed his hand on the counter. “How did the Jefferieses swing that? No one even knew that story was in the works.”
No one, he thought as the whiskey turned bitter in his mouth, but the woman who sat outside his office. Maybe some others, but he distinctly remembered Anna knew about the deal because the editorial director of Luxury Travel had called him on more than one occasion.
“I’m royally ticked,” Stephen said. “But since it’s not paid advertising, my hands are tied. He said it was strictly an ‘editorial’ decision.”
Parker swore softly.
“We got a hole in the dam,” Stephen said. “And we can’t ignore it any longer.”
Parker took a deep drink of the scotch. “I think I know who it is.”
“You do? Who?”
He hesitated, but only for a moment. This was Stephen, and they had no secrets. “Anna.”
“Anna Cross? Your secretary?” Stephen stabbed his fingers through his hair in disbelief. “Is that why you’re dating her?”
“It didn’t start out that way, but then she said and did a few things that made me suspicious. Anyway, I’m not dating her. She wants to keep it all business.”
“Sure, so she doesn’t get fired and can keep her hands in your files.” Stephen sounded disgusted. “What are you doing about it?”
“I’ve tried a misinformation campaign, but that isn’t working. They didn’t bite on anything this week.”
“Then you’ll have to use a James Bond technique,” Stephen said, a half smile threatening. “Screw the truth out of her.”
A tremor of heat warred with distaste. Not screwing, not with Anna.
“She’s keeping me at arm’s length,” Parker said.
Stephen looked unconvinced. “Come on, ace. You can do this. You’re a master.”
“I really like her.” The admission sounded a little lame, but felt amazingly good. He did like her. Wasn’t that at the bottom of all his angst? It certainly explained the sudden desire to listen to the overture from Camelot.
“She’s using you.”
Was that even possible? She was so guileless. “I don’t know that for a fact.”
“Then find out.” Stephen stood to make his point. “Forget misinformation or seduction. Set her up and catch her in the act. Then you can fire her and we can stop this infernal leaking of proprietary information.”
Parker lifted his glass and swirled the remaining whiskey. “Seems kind of underhanded, don’t you think?”
“And spying on us and feeding information to Jordan and Emilio Jefferies is aboveboard?” Stephen tapped him on his shoulder. “What do you think your father would do?”
John Garrison would have set her up and taken her down in a heartbeat. Business before personal feelings. Business before anything.
“Hey, if she’s innocent,” Stephen added, “then you find that out, too. Then you can seduce her for real.”
“Seduce whom?” Brittany strolled onto the veranda and sidled up to her two brothers. “Who’s your next victim?”
“No one,” Parker said dismissively.
His brother was right; they had to know the truth. The thing was, if he was wrong, and Anna realized he suspected her, he’d never have a chance with her. Ever.
But if he was right, then he’d be doing the very thing the patriarch of the family should be doing: protecting the Garrison brand.
When it came down to that, he really had no choice.
Seven
By five o’clock on Monday, Anna thought she’d jump out of her skin. Or jump onto her boss’s. She’d spent every moment at work next to Parker, at times so close you couldn’t slide a hair between them. He seemed to need—or want—her for everything. He had her in his office reorganizing files, requiring her to stay in the room during his telephone conversations so she could take down pertinent information.
He brought in lunch and while they ate, he discussed the possibility of launching an ad campaign for the brand, an idea she’d certainly heard him reject in the past.
Forget the ad campaign. Forget the sudden outpouring of business issues. When he reached over and took her pickle off her paper plate, grinned and asked seductively, “You don’t mind sharing, do you?” Anna almost melted into his plush leather sofa. Which she had no right sharing with him, but that was where he’d set up lunch… like some kind of impromptu picnic.
Every overheated cell in her body ached from the torture of being so close without being able to touch, her senses bombarded with the pleasure of seeing him lean over a piece of paper to sign his name, that lock of hair nearly kissing his brow exactly the way she wanted to. Slack-jawed and weak-limbed and awestruck, she watched him shed his jacket at two, loosen his tie at four and unbutton his cuffs to reveal his powerful, broad wrists at five-thirty.
One more minute and she’d start on his belt buckle.
How long could this go on?
“Anna,” he chided when his PDA dinged softly. “We forgot the business council meeting tonight.”
“We did? I did?” She shuffled through the papers for his calendar. “I don’t have a business council meeting on your schedule.”
He started lowering the cuffs and buttoning them, sending relief and disappointment colliding through her.
“This meeting was added at the last minute by the board to discuss the next election,” he told her.
“That must be why I didn’t know about it,” she said. That or the fact that she’d gone way past distracted and had slid right into useless ever since they’d gotten back from London.
Maybe she was trying to sabotage her job; if she didn’t work for him, then she could act on all the chemistry she was absolutely certain she wasn’t imagining.
If
