“I will. Get better.”
Blane wheezed out a laugh. “I’m in good hands.”
Brody couldn’t help but smile as he set down the phone. Their mother the countess was a force of nature.
“Problem?” asked Will.
“They want to make the hotel bigger.”
“Let me guess. They accomplish that by spending more money.”
“I knew you weren’t just a pretty face.” Brody suddenly felt tired and momentarily defeated. “It’s always about more money. We need to win this thing, Will. And we need to do it soon.”
“Okay,” said Will, squaring his shoulders. “Let’s hope Quentin is the kind of guy who brings his work home with him. If you can get in front of his home computer, I can tell you what to look for. But don’t get caught, and whatever you do don’t get shot by the Russian bodyguards.”
Brody frowned. “I have no intention of getting shot.”
“Nobody plans to get shot,” said Will. “It happens all of a sudden and usually at the most inconvenient time.”
Kate had wrangled an invitation back to Quentin’s Sunday night. She had been hoping to talk to him alone and maybe even meet Annabelle. But she’d been disappointed on both fronts.
Annabelle had been put to bed by the nanny before Kate arrived, and Quentin didn’t even show his face. His friends didn’t seem to care, though, guzzling liquor, dancing on the furniture and frolicking in the pool to music from a live band in the gazebo.
She’d had no desire to party, but she was more determined than ever to meet Annabelle. So when she saw a woman passed out on a sofa, she’d come up with an idea. As the party wore down, she found a quiet corner and pretended to do the same.
There was no way she was dozing off amidst intoxicated strangers. So she lay there awake until 4:00 a.m. when the last guests had stumbled away.
Chilled and exhausted, she’d finally closed her eyes.
At five, the cleaners showed up and began straightening the furniture and clearing up the debris—empty bottles, broken glass, garbage and cigarette butts discarded everywhere. At six, they turned on vacuum cleaners and began to filter the pool water.
Giving up on the idea of sleeping, Kate found a bathroom. She gazed at her smudged makeup, mussed hair and the dark circles under her eyes. Lack of sleep made her look exactly like a woman who’d partied too hard two nights in a row. It was depressing, but there was no denying it would help her disguise. She ran a comb through her hair and wiped away the worst of the mascara smudges, then her thoughts turned to coffee.
As she moved down the hallway, she heard a woman’s voice chirping happily about it being a beautiful day and how she was warming a bottle that would be delicious. Kate guessed it had to be the nanny talking to Annabelle. Her chest swelled with anticipation, and she picked up her pace, following the voice.
“You look so pretty this morning,” the nanny singsonged. “Such a smiley girl.”
Kate moved through the archway into a bright, airy kitchen, to see a young woman in blue jeans and an orange T-shirt, holding a baby against one shoulder and a bottle in the opposite hand.
“Are you hungry?” the young woman asked Annabelle in a gentle voice, and then she spotted Kate.
“Oh,” she said, her expression sobering. “Hello. I didn’t realize anyone was here.”
“Leftover from last night,” Kate offered in an apologetic tone, smoothing a hand over her messy hair.
“Can I help you with something?” the woman asked, her voice and manner becoming reserved.
Kate couldn’t keep her gaze from Annabelle. The baby girl had blond hair and big blue eyes in a sweet, delicate-looking face. Her pink mouth was perfect, and she was dressed in a white romper dotted with colored hearts.
“I’m...” Kate struggled for words. “I was hoping to meet Annabelle.”
The woman’s gaze narrowed, and she drew almost imperceptibly back.
Kate was reminded of how she looked and of the impression she must be giving.
“I’m Kate Dunhern,” she quickly put in. “Francie’s sister.”
When the woman didn’t immediately respond, it occurred to Kate that she might be new on the job.
“Did you know Francie?” Kate asked.
“I didn’t know she had a sister.” The woman was still obviously cautious.
“We weren’t close.”
“She never mentioned you.”
Kate kept her voice calm and mild. She didn’t mind that the nanny was protective. “I can answer some questions about Francie. Or I can show you some identification.”
The offers seemed to dispel the woman’s fears. “That won’t be necessary. I’m Christina Alder, Annabelle’s nanny.”
“I guessed that,” said Kate, taking a step forward. “She’s adorable.”
Christina smiled fondly at Annabelle. “Isn’t she? She’s a sweetheart, good as gold.”
“Have you been taking care of her long?” Kate moved closer still, taking it slow, smiling at Annabelle, trying not to startle the baby.
“From the day she was born,” said Christina.
Kate reached out and touched Annabelle’s little hand with her finger.
“Baa,” said Annabelle.
“Baa, yourself.” Kate smiled. “I’m your auntie Kate.”
Annabelle wiggled, and Christina shifted her hold.
“You’re a friend of Quentin’s?” asked Christina.
Kate shook her head. “I only just met him on Saturday. I came home for...” She paused. “Well, I was disappointed they didn’t have a service for Francie. And then I learned about Annabelle.”
Annabelle wrapped her fist around Kate’s index finger, and a shaft of warmth shot straight to Kate’s heart.
“She misses her mommy,” said Christina. But there was something off in her tone, as if she was being polite rather than sincere.
“It’s good that she has you.”
“Yes,” said Christina, sounding more sincere. “It helps.”
“And there’s Quentin,” said Kate, opening the door for a comment about Quentin’s abilities as a father.
“There are a lot of demands on his schedule.” Christina’s tone was neutral.
“He seems very busy.”
“He is very busy.” Christina paused. “He loves his daughter, though.”
“I’m sure he does.”
Annabelle started to squirm, and her face twisted into a frown.
“She’s hungry,” said Christina.
“I’m sorry I interrupted.”
“Not at all. I just need to sit down to feed her.”
Kate stepped back to give them some room. She wasn’t sure if she should leave, but she desperately wanted to stay.
Christina climbed into a padded chair at the breakfast bar and adjusted Annabelle across one forearm, popping the bottle into the baby’s mouth. Annabelle began