Now, sitting in her crappy little room on her crappy little bed, she faced the truth.
Gorgeous Will, with his dark good looks and his big old dimples, had flirted with her.
Why? She wasn’t anything special, and he was. It didn’t make sense. It was easy to imagine him with the most amazing women in New York. Hell, she could see him with Piper Devon, and that didn’t happen much. Well, especially because Piper was happily married, but still, they would have looked right sitting together at Amuse Bouche, sharing champagne and caviar.
So why was he flirting with her?
Of all the things her life had taught her, the number-one lesson was that people were predictable. They stayed with their own kind. If they had to shift out of their comfort zone, it was almost always because they wanted something.
So what did Will want?
He was staying in a suite, for God’s sake, in Hush. That cost a fortune. He’d said he came to the city from Wichita all the time. He was a wealthy, successful guy. Why would he want to slum it with a working stiff like her?
Maybe that was the point. Maybe he was looking for something different, something a little dangerous. Slumming it with her might be his version of a walk on the wild side.
If that were true, he sure as hell had his act down. He’d never made her feel like she was trash. In fact, he’d said a lot of really nice things. Not random things, either. He’d noticed how she handled the dogs. How they all responded to her. He’d commented on the setup in PetQuarters—seen how she’d arranged things to work smoothly and cleanly.
He’d even complimented her on her staff, and man, that had given her a lump in her throat. More than that, the dogs liked him. Not just Buster but all of them. They wagged their tails and eagerly accepted his attentions. Nothing could have convinced her that Will was a decent guy more than that.
Then, just before he left, he’d asked her again to help him train Buster. The dog was such a sweetie that she’d almost said yes.
Okay, that’s not why she’d almost said yes. Gilly’s words had haunted her since the walk. Will was a guest, a stranger, a visitor. He wasn’t going to stick around for long, so how messy could things get?
He wanted her to bring Buster up after hours. So she’d already be in his suite. But anyway, she’d be there, and the bedroom would be right there, and since everyone was kind of used to her spending the night at the hotel…
No. She couldn’t. It was too risky, and not just the part about Will being a guest.
She wasn’t good with people. With men. She blushed like an infant, she stumbled over her words, she knew squat about etiquette and civilized behavior. It would mean getting naked. That couldn’t end well.
On the other hand—
No. There was no other hand. It was only nine-thirty, but Mercy turned off the good light and got under the covers. No way she was going to do anything with Will. His dimples be damned.
WILL WATCHED Drina as she ate her lunch. He was sitting in a far booth, one that was positioned perfectly, allowing him to see her, but keeping her from catching him at it.
He’d ordered some fish and as he waited for the meal to arrive, he simply watched her. Even at her age, she was a beauty. Her hair was silver now, short, classy. Her wardrobe was modern, and yet there was an old-style grace in the loose scarf around her neck.
She was the very picture of a wealthy woman, a woman used to luxury and comfort.
He knew better.
She was a thief of the first order, that one. One of the best con artists he’d ever seen. Devious, beguiling, charming. She’d never met a person she couldn’t con.
Damn it, why couldn’t he figure out what she wanted with the collar? There were easier things to steal. Easier things to fence. What was it that had her checking in to Hush? Getting a dog of her own?
He had to get to the bottom of this thing before it went too far. He needed to find out about Lulu’s owners. He’d already asked Ricky to do some checking on the insurance angle.
Maybe the owners had hired Drina in order to collect on the insurance? Maybe that collar wasn’t as real as the papers would have him believe. Maybe—
His fish came, and with it renewed determination. He was going to ease his way into PetQuarters. Into the confidence of Mercy Jones.
It wasn’t an unpleasant assignment. In fact, it was the only bonus in a distasteful situation.
He really liked the way she blushed. There was more to her than that, of course, but it wouldn’t do him any good to go there. She was a means to an end. He’d try to leave her with good memories and a smile. That was the best he could offer.
Mercy was his ticket in. Period.
In fact, after lunch, he’d go back to PetQuarters, and this time, he wouldn’t leave without her agreeing to his offer.
She’d been on the edge yesterday. Today, he’d do whatever was necessary to tip her over.
ON FLOOR TWELVE, Mercy had a total of five stops. Three dogs, two hotel-supplied goldfish. Spiffed up in her hotel uniform with her kitty tie and ponytail holder she pulled her cart along, trying to remember if Jacob and Alexis were going to stay the night, or if it was Oliver and Grace.
At twelve-twenty, she knocked on the door. “PetQuarters.” As she waited, she held on to the fish food in her pocket. She’d brought a new, clean dog bed for Corkie, the beautiful cocker spaniel mix who was currently being bathed with a lavender dog shampoo Mercy liked quite a bit. She knocked again, made one more shout out that she was from PetQuarters, then used her pass key to enter the room.
Mostly, the guests weren’t there at two in the afternoon. She wasn’t sure why, but she found more guests in from noon to one than two to three, so that’s when she, or one of the other permanent staff, made house calls.
Inside the room, which was a junior suite, she went first to the fishbowl. She’d actually come up with the idea—loaning fish to guests who might like some company. Mr. Evans had been charmed by the idea and said he’d gotten the fish as a companion for Corkie.
He’d chosen a gorgeous Siamese fighting fish, brilliant blue with a double tail. The fish had been given the unimaginative name Blue, but he’d ignored the indignity and become one of the most sought-after of the loaners.
She tapped the side of the bowl, causing Blue to investigate. Before she got to feeding him his delicious mix of betta pellets and frozen bloodworms, she figured she’d get Corkie’s bedding taken care of.
Corkie, like most of the pets who spent their nights with their parents, slept in the bedroom. Mercy got the new bed from her cart and brought it close so she could sniff. They got the beds from a small company in New Jersey who stuffed them with Poly-Fil and cedar chips, which the dogs seemed to love. This one was light green and smelled like comfort.
She got two new packs of their homemade food along with several treats to put on Corkie’s place mat.
The bedroom door was closed, so just to be sure she knocked, loudly. “PetQuarters.” After a full minute with no response, she opened the door, calling out once more.
It was dark, the drapes drawn. Mercy stepped inside and turned on the light.
There was Corkie’s food bowl, empty, and there was Mr. Evans, completely and utterly naked, tied to the bed, gagged and, in a sight that would haunt her for years to come, erect.
Mercy froze. She’d heard stories about things like this, but she’d never actually seen it. Mr. Evans had come to PetQuarters three days ago, where he’d picked out Blue