“Tyler, I’d like you to meet Jenna McBride, our new decorator. Jenna this is Tyler—”
“Carter,” the man inserted, holding out his hand.
Henry’s eyebrows briefly knit together.
“I’m a security guard here at the hotel.” Tyler Carter grasped Jenna’s hand.
His hand was warm, his grip strong and his skin leathery enough to indicate he enjoyed some kind of outdoor sport. His dark glasses were perched on a straight nose, above a strong, square chin. The smile he flashed was friendly enough, but Jenna sensed some kind of tension behind it.
“Yes. Well.” Henry cleared his throat. “We’re just getting Jenna set up with a suite for the next week or so.”
“Don’t let me get in the way.” Tyler gestured toward the receptionist and gallantly moved back.
HENRY WAS close on his heels as Tyler cut across the lobby. Meeting Jenna so soon wasn’t exactly what he’d planned. But Tyler had to congratulate himself on coming up with the security guard cover story. Now he had an excuse to hang around the hotel. Even better, he had an excuse to snoop.
“Odd that I don’t recall hiring another security guard,” said Henry as the distance between them and the reception desk increased.
“I’m undercover,” said Tyler. “On a case.”
“Somebody staying at the hotel?”
“As it turns out.” He glanced back to where Jenna was checking in. A decorating job at the Quayside. Small world, but a convenient one.
“There’s not a criminal in my hotel, is there?”
“Not a criminal.” Still smarting from Derek’s reaction to an adultery surveillance case, Tyler didn’t jump to share the particulars with Henry.
“Are you planning to stay?” asked Henry.
“Stay?”
“For the undercover operation. Do you need a room?”
What a good idea. It would make snooping even easier. Besides, he was on a “money is no object” expense account. And it would sure keep Derek from worrying about where he was living.
“Sure. I’ll take a room,” said Tyler.
“Shall I put it on the Reeves-DuCarter account?”
Tyler grinned. “Bill IPS. I’m getting expenses on this.”
“Good enough. You will let me know if my guests are in any danger?”
“That’s a promise,” said Tyler. Though it seemed unlikely that any of the guests could be decorated to death. He found his attention straying back to Jenna.
“What is Jenna McBride decorating?” he asked.
“She’s giving the entire hotel a facelift.” There was some kind of a twinkle in Henry’s eyes. “She came very highly recommended.”
Tyler squinted at Henry’s expression. It was sort of a wink, wink, nudge, nudge, inside joke expression.
Redecorating the hotel wasn’t a bad idea. But Henry was sure acting strange about it. Maybe the older man did have a crush on Jenna.
If that was the case, Tyler could have told him that Jenna was already taken. He could also remind Henry that Henry was already taken.
Jenna started across the foyer toward them.
“Can you give me a security key?” asked Tyler.
“Not a problem.” Henry nodded.
3
THE LIGHTHOUSE, the Quayside’s rooftop seafood restaurant, wasn’t light at all. Jenna squinted at the maitre d’ as she took her seat at a small table in a secluded alcove. She supposed the darkness might seem romantic to some, but it was a crying shame to waste the view.
Although the restaurant was located on the fortieth floor, right on the lake front, only about a quarter of the exterior wall space had windows. The rest was covered in a heavy, burgundy wall paper, layered between dark, hewn beams.
The feeble ceiling lights cast a smoky, orange hue, and the carpet was in red tones. At least she thought it was in red tones, she leaned sideways in her seat and peered down at it. She could barely see her feet down there in the dark depths.
Glancing around to make sure nobody was paying attention, she lifted the candle from the middle of the table and held it close to the floor.
She was right. Swirls of burgundy and bloodred. She shuddered.
“Lose something, ma’am?”
Jenna quickly straightened in her chair, giving her emerald cocktail dress a surreptitious tug down her thighs and smoothing her fingertips across the straight, strapless neckline to make sure everything was where it ought to be.
“Nothing.” She smiled at the waiter, placing the candle back on the table.
“Can I offer you a cocktail?” he asked, reaching out and returning the candle to its original position.
“Sure.” Jenna tapped her fingernails against the gold tablecloth. “A glass of red wine?”
“We have the Andollin Beaujolais from France, very light, very smooth. Or the Posselini Merlot from Italy, bolder, very dry.” He flipped open a leather-bound wine list. “Or I can open a bottle.”
“The Beaujolais will be fine.”
“Very good.” He flipped the wine list shut. “I’ll be back in one moment.”
Jenna sighed and settled into her chair. The waiter’s old-world mannerisms seemed to go with the room. Maybe wealthy people liked oppressive spaces and officious service. She’d certainly experienced both with Brandon.
Should she stay with dark and classic here, or be bold and suggest something more updated? She ran her fingertips along the ornate arm of the dark walnut chair, tracing the swirled carving as she gazed around the room, cataloguing the furniture and decor.
Most of the tables in her section were empty. Although, one of the window tables was occupied by a couple. She unconsciously paused on them. They were holding hands across the table top and seemed totally absorbed in each other, oblivious to anything else in the room.
After a brief twinge of envy, Jenna shifted her focus. It came to rest on the other chair at her table. The wood was dark, almost black, and the upholstery was diamond-tufted, red velvet. She imagined it had looked very rich in its time, but now it looked heavy and dated. Rather like the wallpaper.
Rather like the staff. She grinned to herself and took a quick sip from her water glass. She wondered if new uniforms would lighten them up a little.
Her gaze started to roam again, coming to rest on the couple by the window.
