to focus on him. Then she seemed to study him. While she did that, he detected an unexpected intelligence behind her eyes.
“Kate Dunhern,” she finally responded.
“Can I get you a drink?”
She appeared to be gathering her bearings, even sizing him up. Then her mouth suddenly curved into a bright smile. In a flash, her assessing intellect was replaced by overexuberance and friendliness.
“Love one,” she said. “Champagne?”
He couldn’t help but puzzle at the cause of her transformation. Had she recognized his designer jeans? Had she noted his expensive watch and shoes and decided he was worth chatting up? Whatever it was, now she was behaving the way he’d expected when he first saw her purple-streaked hair and her crystal-studded sandals.
He offered his arm. “This way.”
She took it, her bright pink manicured nails shimmering against his skin.
He did a double take at the distinctly sensual image and felt a spike of lust shoot through him. It was a normal reaction, he told himself. She was a gorgeous woman in an outfit designed to display it. She was likely disappointed at losing Quentin’s attention, but she had the attention of every other red-blooded man here. If it was money she was after, there was plenty of it unattached and at the party.
“You’re a friend of Quentin’s?” she asked in a bright, friendly tone.
“An acquaintance,” said Brody. He shouldn’t, nor did he have any desire to lay claim to more.
“Are you in the video gaming business?”
“The entertainment industry. I’m a concert promoter from Europe.”
“Scotland?” she guessed.
He’d wished he could keep it more generic, but his accent gave him away. He could only hope the fake profession and fake name would keep Quentin from making a connection to his father or, more significantly, to his family’s ownership of Quentin’s competitor Shetland Tech Corporation.
“You got me,” he answered.
“I’m guessing it’s not classical music you’re promoting.” Her gaze seemed to take in the party which was growing more raucous by the hour.
Brody knew it was only a matter of time until a fight broke out or someone got tossed into the pool. Breakage was a given. Quentin seemed to have a cleanup crew on perpetual standby to deal with whatever carnage was wrought at the late-night parties.
“Rock ’n roll,” he answered.
“Anyone I might recognize?”
“Confidential, I’m afraid.”
It was his pat answer whenever anyone pressed for details. Luckily, so far nobody had probed further. He had enough money to buy credibility, and he doubted anybody really cared beyond that. He suspected most of the people in Quentin’s circle lied about their background or profession in some way or another.
“Are you in LA for a concert?” she asked.
“I’m on vacation.”
“Amusement parks and surfing?”
“Something like that. What about you?”
A cloud crossed her eyes. “You may have heard my sister was killed.”
“I did.” He wondered if he might have misjudged her. In this moment, her remorse struck him as genuine. “I’m sorry.”
But then she seemed to shake off the melancholy. “We were estranged. I hadn’t seen her in seven years.”
They made it to the bar, and he placed their order—champagne for her and another Shet Select for him.
“Bad blood?” he asked, finding himself curious.
“Different goals and objectives in life.” She accepted the flute of champagne.
“How so?”
She seemed to hesitate. “Hard to put my finger on it now.” Then she grinned, the happy-go-lucky expression coming back into her eyes. “Interesting that she was with Quentin.” The new tone was searching.
“Interesting,” Brody agreed, thinking Quentin was probably right. Kate was here to trade on her sister’s relationship with an enormously wealthy man.
“Quentin said you were down from Seattle,” he continued.
“I live there.”
“That wouldn’t have been my first guess.”
Her eyebrow arched. “Why not?”
“It doesn’t seem like a very exciting town.” His rock ’n roll alter ego jumped in. “And you seem like an exciting girl.”
“Seattle might surprise you.” She flashed a secretive smile, clinked her glass to his and turned to walk from the bar.
He could have let the conversation end there. It would have been the smart move. Kate was a distraction, and he didn’t need any distractions right now. He was here to schmooze Quentin and the Beast Blue Designs team, get inside information on who was who and then pump them for details so he could prove they’d stolen intellectual property from Shetland Tech.
So far, his conversations with Scotland Yard and the LAPD had gotten him nowhere. Both police forces were focused on murders, kidnappings and drug crimes and had little time for possible corporate espionage. Not that he blamed them. They had to prioritize.
His second plan had been to hire a private investigator. But the guy they’d put undercover at Beast Blue Designs had been caught snooping, and the company was a veritable fortress of security and secrecy. He hadn’t found out a single thing.
Running out of time, Brody had taken matters into his own hands. He was trying to gain Quentin’s trust on a personal level to find a route into the company.
He told his feet to walk away from Kate. But they didn’t.
“What do you do in Seattle?” he asked instead.
“This and that,” she answered vaguely.
The answer likely meant she was unemployed, or perhaps embarrassed by her profession. Maybe she was a criminal, or a con artist, or simply a shameless opportunist.
Whatever she was, she was sexy as hell. He should be sprinting away from her and focusing on business. Instead, he eased closer, gazing into her blue eyes, touching his glass to hers a second time.
“To this and that,” he said.
The party was confirming Kate’s worst fears. It was a rambunctious crowd, fuelled by throbbing techno music and
