style="font-size:15px;"> She peered at him for a moment, seeming to assess his expression. Once again, she appeared smarter than he would have guessed. But then she blinked, and the expression was gone.
“Maybe that’s why he broke up with Francie,” she speculated aloud. “To be with this Ceci person.”
“I’ve never seen him with a steady girlfriend.” Then again, Brody hadn’t ever come across Francie, either. There could be any number of people in Quentin’s life that Brody didn’t know about.
“Do you suppose he has another child?” asked Kate. “Maybe those guys want him to marry Ceci because they have a baby.”
That seemed like a long shot to Brody, and not at all helpful to his investigation. He wanted the bodyguards and the mysterious Ceci to be clues to Beast Blue Designs’ theft from Shetland. Though he acknowledged that was a long shot, as well.
The thought did remind him of why he was here and what he was doing. He needed to get back at it.
“No sign of my watch in here,” he said to Kate. “Did you happen to check the dining room?”
She nodded. “I did.”
“What about the kitchen?” He wanted to get her out of the office so that he could turn off Quentin’s computer.
“Would you like me to check there?”
“That would help. I was in there a few times last night.”
“I’m surprised I didn’t see you at the party.”
“I spent most of the evening in the garden.” Lying was becoming easier and easier for him. He wasn’t sure how he should feel about that.
He hadn’t even been at last night’s party, never mind lost his watch. It was a ruse he’d concocted as an excuse to snoop around the mansion. It wasn’t the most complicated plan in the world, but he’d decided simpler was better.
She seemed to expect him to elaborate on his statement.
“With a woman,” he lied again. “Somebody I just met.”
A bit of the friendliness vanished from her expression. “Right.”
He wanted to tell her he was lying. He wasn’t like Quentin and the rest of the partiers. He didn’t have sex in the garden with random women. But telling her the truth was dangerous. Like everybody else in this world, she needed to believe he was Brody Herrington, a freewheeling concert promoter living the rock-and-roll lifestyle.
If one surprisingly interesting woman thought he was some kind of a player, then that was the price he’d pay.
“I’ll check the kitchen,” she said, turning away.
“Kate?”
She stopped without turning back. “Yes?”
He knew he was selfish to ask for her cooperation, but his family was at stake. “Don’t let on.”
She twisted her head to look at him.
“Don’t let on that you understand Ukrainian.”
Her brow furrowed in puzzlement.
“I don’t trust those guys.” That much was definitely true. “It’s probably better if you just listen.” He wished he could ask her to report back to him on what she heard, but he didn’t dare go that far.
“I wasn’t planning to let on,” she said.
“Good.”
“I’ll go check for your watch.”
“Thanks.”
“Maybe if you kept your clothes on,” she muttered under her breath. “You might not lose things.”
He watched her walk away, her hair slightly mussed, her shoulders bare, her legs long and shapely beneath the tight, short dress. It struck him as odd that she’d criticize his behavior. But a split second later, she only struck him as gorgeous, and he forgot about anything else.
* * *
Kate took a quick look through the kitchen, and then decided Brody could find his own watch. It was probably in the garden, falling off when he’d stripped down for a quickie.
It had annoyed her to learn he’d spent the evening hooking up. She acknowledged the reaction was absurd, since it had absolutely nothing to do with her. With his job, he probably had one-night stands all over the world—him and all the other single, wealthy men hanging out with celebrities and groupies.
But for some reason she wanted him to be better than the rest. Maybe it was because she’d kissed him. Or more important because she’d enjoyed kissing him. She should have better taste than to enjoy kissing a man who was into one-night stands. What was the matter with her?
She made her way back into the main hallway, focusing on Annabelle again, and wondering how long she dared hang around. She didn’t want anyone to get suspicious, but she also didn’t want to squander this opportunity.
Time was ticking. Banking on Quentin being a late sleeper, she decided to have a look upstairs before she left.
She guessed Annabelle’s nursery would be on the second floor and hoped Christina and Annabelle had gone back there when they left the kitchen. If anyone questioned her, she could always use the excuse of Brody’s lost watch.
At the top of the stairs, she heard the gentle pings of a lullaby. She walked toward them, coming to an open bedroom door.
Annabelle was lying in a white crib, cooing softly, her hands and bare feet wiggling in the air as she watched colorful cloth jungle animals circle above her.
The rest of the big room was a jumble, containing a change table, two armchairs, a rocking chair. Through an open doorway to a connected room, she saw a single bed and a dresser. Everything was covered in cardboard boxes. Some were open, some taped shut. Plush toys were strewn around the nursery, and the walk-in closet was wide-open, revealing empty shelves and more packing boxes.
“Wow,” said Kate. “You’ve got some work on your hands.”
Christina looked surprised by the sound of Kate’s voice.
Kate knew she was being unforgivably brazen barging in on them. She squelched her discomfort. “Do you want some help?”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I’m happy to do it.” Kate forced herself to ignore Christina’s obvious lack of welcome, moving to one of the open boxes of baby clothes to look inside. “Shall I put these in the closet?”
“No, really.” Christina started toward her.
Annabelle let out a cry.
“I’ll get her,” Kate impulsively announced.
“No,” Christina said sharply.
Their
