He knew that name. She was a hotel employee. The assistant concierge, maybe? He kept an impassive face, mentally filing away the name. “Has she worked on Broadway?”
“She’s had a few roles. Mostly small ones, but one of the plays she did lasted for nearly a year. It’s just not easy getting cast. I don’t have to tell you that it’s a cutthroat business.”
“Yep, a lot of money at stake.”
She tilted her head to the side and studied him in a way that made him nervous. Like she was going to ask him a question he didn’t know how to answer. “What made you decide to get involved in show business?”
“Good question.” He frowned thoughtfully, pretending to give the matter serious consideration. “I’m afraid I don’t have a very noble answer.”
“Fame and money is a given.”
“This industry is fickle. Profit isn’t a guarantee. It could cost you big-time.”
“True.”
The waitress returned with Dana’s beer and asked to take their orders. But neither of them had looked at the menu yet. As soon as the woman left to check on another table, Chase picked up his menu hoping Dana would forget the nature of their conversation.
“Come on. Now I’m curious.”
He stupidly hadn’t anticipated the question, but he’d learned doing undercover work that sticking as close to the truth as possible reduced your risk of exposure. “I was bored.”
“Ah. The curse of the idle rich.”
“Now, now, darlin’. You know boredom isn’t only a rich man’s affliction.”
“Okay, you’re right.” Her lips curved in a cheeky smile. “They just get to be bored without worrying about paying the mortgage.”
“Touché.”
“At least you’re honest,” she said, picking up her menu.
He flinched and quickly directed his attention to the list of entrées. Maybe dinner hadn’t been such a good idea. No, this was a good opportunity. As long as he retained control of the conversation.
Nothing on the menu was too pricey, particularly by Manhattan standards. He liked that she’d chosen this place even though she thought he had deep pockets. “Any recommendations?”
“Everything is good.” She closed her menu and set it aside.
“What are you having?”
“Blackened chicken salad.”
Should’ve known she was one of those salad kind of gals, low-fat dressing on the side, no doubt. Why it disappointed him he couldn’t say. Him, he was a having a great big porterhouse steak.
As soon as he closed his menu the waitress appeared again and took their order. He asked for another beer, but Dana declined. A smarter man would’ve followed her lead. He had to meet her at ten tomorrow and run another five miles. Although, if he got enough information tonight, there really would be no reason to see her.
Their eyes met, hers so beautiful his groin stirred. Who was he kidding? No way he’d pass up a chance to see her again. He smiled and went for his beer.
“How’s your side?”
“Better.”
“How did you say you hurt it?”
“A man can humble himself only so much in one night.”
She smiled. “Must be a pretty juicy story.”
He wouldn’t call it that. But he couldn’t very well admit he’d been part of an undercover sting that had gone bad. One that might have shot his career to hell and back.
Focus. He couldn’t start replaying that old tape. Might as well call it a night if his mind had started going to that bad neighborhood. “Let’s get back to your friend. She has a résumé and portfolio, I presume.”
At his abruptness, Dana blinked. “Sure.”
“Okay.” He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “After my meeting tomorrow I’ll know more about how close I am to sealing this deal.”
“Great.” Dana seemed nervous suddenly, her hand trembling slightly as she picked up her bottle of beer. “If it works out for you and you’d like to talk to my friend, I could arrange for the two of you to meet.”
“You sound more like her agent.”
She smiled. “She’s had a tough go of it lately, and I hate to see her give up.”
A loud group of six sat at the table next to them, the three guys arguing over yesterday’s Mets’ game and sounding as if they’d already been partying half the afternoon.
Chase leaned across the table toward Dana. Her lips were really something, full and pouty, but natural-looking. “What about you?”
“What about me?” she asked warily.
“Aren’t you interested?”
She hesitated. “That phase of my life is over. I’ve moved on.”
“That’s a shame,” he said, relieved because he didn’t have to feel like a jerk for getting her hopes up.
She briefly looked away. “What about you? What will you do if this deal fails?”
“Failure is never an option.” Yeah, easy to sound confident when you were full of crap. When you didn’t know if you were even going to have a job next month. What the hell. He was kind of liking this private-dick stuff, especially the expense-account part.
“Good attitude. I hope it works for you.” She smiled, but it didn’t erase the trace of bitterness in her voice.
Brought him back to the reason he was here. Bitterness could change a person. Make them do things they weren’t proud of, or worse, make them think it was their God-given right to take what they wanted. Like turn to thieving to support a lifestyle they felt they’d been cheated out of. He studied Dana as she stared into her beer, her blond hair falling forward like a sheet of expensive fine silk.
Did she fit that profile? Did she feel she deserved more than life had dished out? Did it matter that a woman like her could get a man to give her anything she wanted? She wouldn’t even have to work at it. Just bat those beautiful eyes. Or maybe she liked more of a challenge. Wanted a more active role. Could be she was working with someone.
Hell, that was an angle he hadn’t considered yet. She seemed chummy with some of the hotel staff. Maybe her job was to distract the target while an accomplice snatched the goods. Made sense. The possibility was certainly worth considering.
The idea grated on him more than it should. He didn’t want her to be involved. His lack of objectivity really got to him. Hadn’t he learned his lesson in the past year? Of course it wasn’t as if she were a serious suspect yet. But until she could be eliminated, she stayed on the list. When the eliminations were done, the last man standing ended up in cuffs.
After poking around yesterday, he had his eye on a room-service waiter and a maid. Both had opportunity and knowledge of the ring. He knew the maid had been on the same floor at the time of the other theft. The waiter’s timeline hadn’t been confirmed.
Still, the fact that Dana had lied about not going up to the guest floors nagged at him. He knew that wasn’t true because Roscoe had seen her. Which brought him back to his original suspicion that she did know Roscoe. The idea that they could’ve been intimate made him queasy.
“You’ve gotten awfully quiet,” she said, toying with her napkin so that it was beginning to shred. “Anything wrong?”
“I was thinking about your friend. When did she decide to leave New York?”
Dana