company owned in London, Monte Carlo and the Bahamas—Wolfe International. Did his arrival in Kansas City have anything to do with her father’s death?
But Dawn was still talking. No, gushing was a better word. “You should get a load of that British accent. If James Bond had a twin…You know, they’re not all stuffy and tea and crumpets over there. At least, Teddy isn’t. Now his executive assistant, on the other hand—”
“Dawn, dear—are you monopolizing this beautiful lady?”
Rebecca “got a load” of that melodic, articulate British accent an instant before the scent of fine tobacco filled the air and a hand brushed the small of her back. She stiffened at the unexpected touch, then forced herself to relax as one of the men she’d come to investigate circled around her. Theodore Wolfe, Jr. Thirty. Boy wonder of the business world. As handsome in person as his publicity photo had indicated. Rebecca tipped her chin, unaccustomed to meeting many men she had to look up to. Teddy had expensive taste in smokes, deep-blue eyes and a killer smile that could make a woman with twice Dawn’s experience blush like a schoolgirl.
He also had a thick-necked sidekick who positioned himself behind his shoulder. Rebecca was guessing the older man with the nearly-shaved, silver hair was the executive assistant Dawn had sneered about. Looking more bodyguard than business associate, despite his tailored suit and tie, he stood far enough away to be removed from the conversation, but close enough for Rebecca to see his dark eyes studying her, then dismissing her as though she wasn’t worth his interest.
Cold, Rebecca thought, looking away before another attack of goose bumps betrayed her. Creepy.
“The idea is for you to welcome each guest,” Teddy chastised and flirted at the same time, though Rebecca wasn’t sure if the charm was aimed at her or Dawn. “Then we send them on his or her way to enjoy their evening. We want them to play.”
“We were just chatting, Mister Wolfe,” Dawn emphasized, as though she’d earn points for making the distinction.
With his silent shadow glowering just a few feet away, it wasn’t as difficult as Rebecca would have liked to respond to Teddy Wolfe’s smile. “I hope I didn’t get Dawn into trouble,” she apologized. “She really has been very welcoming.”
“She’s a good girl, isn’t she?” Though Dawn beamed at the praise, Rebecca thought she detected a subtle slur in the word girl. As opposed to woman. As opposed to the heavy-lidded interest he gave to Rebecca’s long legs and the deep plunge of her neckline.
Score one for the femme fatale persona she’d donned for the evening. Rebecca forced herself to breathe normally, despite the surge of confidence racing through her veins. This guy was interested. If she played her cards right, and didn’t come on too strong with a barrage of questions, he’d eventually tell her everything she wanted to know about his new business, and whether any blood—namely, her father’s—had been spilled to make it happen.
Rebecca’s sultry, satisfied smile drew his gaze up to her mouth. “I’m Teddy Wolfe. My assistant, Shaw McDonough.” He waved in the general direction of the dark-eyed hulk behind him, but never took his eyes off Rebecca. “What have you two been chatting about? Something fascinating, I expect.”
“I’m Rebecca.” Rebecca extended her hand before the hostess mentioned the questions she’d been asking. “This is my first time at the Riverboat, and Dawn was very graciously giving me the rundown so I wouldn’t get lost.”
Teddy’s gaze made a reluctant descent back down to her outstretched hand. But instead of the businesslike shake she was expecting, he pulled her fingers to his lips and kissed them. His grip was gentle, his lips moist and warm and as precise as that swoon-worthy accent. He’d done this before. More than once. “I’d be delighted to give you the grand tour myself. I’ll even show you the private gaming rooms and offices upstairs.”
Dawn’s gasp was audible. “Teddy.” The blonde made no effort to correct her familiar address this time. “I get off in an hour. You promised…”
And though Rebecca saw the accusatory look on the young girl’s face, Theodore Wolfe, Jr., ignored it.
Maybe there was something more than a crush on the handsome Brit that Rebecca had intruded upon here. Or maybe it was the sudden wedge of Shaw McDonough between boss and hostess that soured Dawn’s expression.
McDonough whispered into his employer’s ear. Another British accent, though deeper, gruffer. “Daniel Kelleher is waiting in your office, Mr. Wolfe. He wants to review the agenda for the meeting regarding the poker tournament coming up next weekend.”
“Of course he does.” Teddy leaned in to Rebecca as though he was sharing some inside joke. “I expect Kelleher plans an agenda for each trip to the loo. If he wasn’t so damn good with numbers, he’d annoy me.” The smooth stroke of his thumb across the back of her knuckles reminded Rebecca that he still held her hand. “I’ve enjoyed meeting you. Rebecca.”
She ignored the urge to pull away and reach for Dawn. A reassuring hug was definitely not a femme fatale move. Instead, she fixed her pout into place. “Maybe if I haven’t lost all my money and I’m still here later, I’ll take you up on that private tour.”
His grip tightened as he stroked her hand again. “Be here.”
“Mr. Wolfe.” His executive assistant tapped his watch. “The meeting?”
“Dawn.” Teddy draped his arms around the hostess’s shoulders and kissed her cheek, despite her stiff posture. “Now, now. Give Rebecca all the tokens she can carry. I want her evening here to be long and successful.”
“Sure, Teddy.”
For a moment, she had the boss’s full attention. “What was that?”
“Yes, sir, Mister Wolfe.”
He traced his finger across her cheek. “Ahh. Where’s that pretty smile?” His wink restored Dawn’s color, and a playful jab at her chin earned a soft giggle. “Good girl.”
“We still need to talk. Remember?”
Teddy Wolfe turned away without an answer. He took center stage, striding through the maze of slot machines that filled the main room, shaking hands and greeting players as he passed. Shaw McDonough, with his ever-watchful scowl, scanned the crowd, urging his employer forward whenever a conversation lasted more than a few seconds.
Once the two Brits reached the boat’s grand staircase at the far end of the room and headed up the stairs, Dawn turned and shoved her entire cup of tokens into Rebecca’s hands. The smile she’d given the boss was gone. “Here. Enjoy your evening at the Riverboat. All of it.”
Rebecca cringed at the accusation in the younger woman’s voice. She wondered if there were any words she could put together to get back into Dawn’s good graces without giving away her real purpose here. But guilt chased away her normal fluency, and all she could come up with was, “Thank you.”
Dawn didn’t even want to hear that much from her. Just as well. Rebecca was here to dig up a story, not make friends.
She had that scenario down to an art form.
She bristled at the silent admission, then straightened as if Dawn’s cold shoulder didn’t bother her one damn bit. “Can you point me toward the nearest Cosmopolitan?”
In
