Receptionist Under Cover

He named a local dignitary who had been a friend of her family’s for as long as she could remember.

“Anyone else?”

“Well, there’s that action-adventure travel writer, Patrick O’Neil. But you wouldn’t have heard of him.”

Patrick O’Neil. Oh, Lord. Nadine could feel the skin at the back of her neck tingle. She had to get out of here before he noticed her.

But no sooner did she have that thought than Patrick turned around—and with an uncanny instinct, as if he’d sensed her thinking about him—looked her square in the eyes.

CHAPTER THREE

PATRICK HAD EXPECTED TO BE bored, and he’d been prepared for it. What he hadn’t remembered was how damn uncomfortable formal attire could be. His feet—used to cushioned, merino wool socks and thick rubber soles—ached in these thin leather shoes. And the buttons on his tuxedo shirt seemed to tighten their hold on his neck with every minute.

He scanned the room in search of something that might distract him from his misery. Drinking wouldn’t be smart. Not when he had to speak in about an hour.

Definitely lots of beautiful women here. But he felt little interest in trying to meet one of them. That letter from June…it had really knocked him for a loop.

Wait a minute. Over in the corner. He couldn’t help staring at the pretty brunette with sparkling dark eyes. She was slender and utterly feminine…like a modern-day princess in a strapless dress that showed off flawless skin and an intriguing hint of cleavage.

She had a delicate beauty that set her apart from the many other gorgeous women in this room. But that wasn’t the only reason she’d caught his attention. He had the feeling he’d met her before.

And then it hit him. Hell. She was the investigator from Fox & Fisher. Nadine Kimble.

At the very moment he recognized her, she glanced through the crowd, making contact with his eyes. Or maybe he imagined it, because now, a second later, she was looking just slightly to his left. Lowering her eyes, she took a very long drink from her champagne flute.

She’d looked completely different earlier today in a conservative skirt and high-necked sweater. Her hair had been straight and controlled and her makeup subdued.

But he was now quite certain she was the same woman.

He was already moving through the crowd, curious to find out why a detective from Fox & Fisher was mingling with New York City’s wealthiest and most influential citizens. The tickets for tonight’s event were a thousand bucks a head. Not something that fit into the average woman’s budget, that was for sure.

Perhaps she had a rich boyfriend.

And at just that moment Patrick spotted him—a tall, academic-looking man in his late twenties, with dull eyes and an expression devoid of good humor. As Patrick watched, Nadine stood on her toes to speak into his ear. He nodded, then took her champagne flute and headed off, presumably for a refill.

She was alone now. And though she was no longer looking in his direction, he sensed she was aware of his approach.

Patrick wondered why he felt it was so important to speak to her. Not enough time had passed for her to have turned up any information about his son. Yet, he pressed on, weaving through the knots of people, drawing nearer, finally close enough to touch her lightly on the shoulder.

“MR. O’NEIL.” NADINE SHIVERED, though the man’s touch on her skin was warm. She swiveled ninety degrees, so she was almost, but not quite, facing him. “This is a surprise. I didn’t realize you were tonight’s speaker until just recently.”

She clasped her hands behind her back to hide her trembling. She had to get rid of him. Fast. It wouldn’t take Trenton long to refill their glasses, and when he returned she’d be obligated to make introductions, and her cover would be blown.

She could just imagine what her client would say when he found out her father was one of the owners of this hotel, her mother on the fundraising committee for this event.

“Call me Patrick. Please. Believe me, this isn’t my usual habitat.” He gave a desultory tug to his bow tie. “But my publicist went to a lot of work to arrange this gig and threatened to feed me to lions if I didn’t show up.”

“I guess it’s good timing. With your new book coming out soon and all.” She glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see that Trenton wasn’t yet in the vicinity.

“Exactly. Still, it’s ironic, isn’t it? A big, fancy bash like this—everyone in expensive duds, eating exotic food. If we really cared about the rain forest, we’d be consuming less, not more.”

That was exactly how she felt about the situation. But she couldn’t afford to exchange political and social views with this man. She had to leave. Now.

“I must admit, I was surprised to see you here,” Patrick continued.

She knew he was waiting for an explanation. Suddenly one came to her. She stepped closer to him and in a low voice said, “I’m attending on business. I’m sorry I can’t explain further.”

“Oh.” Patrick’s eyes widened. “You’re undercover, then?”

She nodded.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to mess things up.”

“Exactly. Thanks so much for understanding.” She squeezed his arm, in a gesture of farewell, and though she knew he was in excellent physical condition, she was still surprised to feel the tight resistance of muscle under the soft wool of his tux.

“We’ll talk soon,” she promised, before slipping off into the crowd. Not five steps later, a friend of her mother’s called out her name, but she pretended not to hear as she hurried to put distance between herself and Patrick.

She’d slipped out of that predicament, but only barely. She didn’t dare stick around for the entire evening. She was too well known here, had too many connections.

She would find Trenton and make an excuse to leave. There would be hell to pay from her mother, but there was no way around it.

THE NEXT MORNING NADINE WENT to the office early, despite not having slept well the night before. Granny Kimble had always said a clean conscience was essential to a good night’s sleep, and now Nadine knew that was true. She’d never in her life told as many lies as she had in the past twenty hours.

Seeing Patrick last night had been an unexpected complication, requiring yet more little white lies on her part. She could so easily have been busted. Luckily she’d managed to exit fairly quickly after being spotted.

But part of her wished she could have stayed. She would have liked to hear him speak. Then maybe later, after the dinner, he would have sought her out for a dance. She imagined the band playing something slow and romantic, Patrick’s arms tightening around her back…

Oh, Lord. What was she doing? Daydreaming about her client was definitely not professional.

She was up to her neck in deception, and the only way out was to solve this case, which meant finding Patrick’s son, the sooner the better.

That was why she’d arrived so early. Hopefully she’d have the office to herself for at least an hour before the others arrived. Prior to her pregnancy, Kate had been an early bird, but these days she usually started her days at nine, like Lindsay and Nathan.

Yesterday Nadine had mapped out a strategy and now she reviewed her notes. The first step was checking out Stephen’s mother—Patrick’s old girlfriend—June Stone.

She located June’s obituary on the Internet and read it carefully. June’s parents had predeceased her, but she had been survived by a sister and her family, who lived in Boston, as well as her son, Stephen.

Nadine copied out the sister’s name, then read on. The write-up on June’s life was short, highlighting her career as a professor at Columbia University, and citing her business and masters degrees from NYU. The obit ended on a personal note…“In her spare time June loved skiing with her son and hiking with friends in the Berkshires.”

And that was all the obituary had to offer.

Next, Nadine tracked down June’s last-known address, the apartment in Chelsea. What had happened with her furniture and belongings? Nadine wondered. Did her son have them?

Nadine tucked her hair out of the way as she tried to think what she should do next. Since Stephen didn’t have a listed phone number or address that she could find, it might be smart to try and reach the sister, who would be his aunt.

She was about to start searching for a Boston phone listing, when the door opened and Kate stepped in, her freckled face pink from the cold, or exertion or possibly both.

She paused and sighed, hand on belly. “God, I wish we were on the ground floor.”