Adam opened his mouth to instruct his security chief to get a team down there.
And closed it again on a strangled gargle, unable to wrench his eyes from the screen as the woman pulled the black beanie from her head and shook out a mane of extraordinary hair. Strawberry blonde tresses, with the balance towards strawberry, fell past her shoulders.
Crossing her arms, she hoisted her black jumper over her head to reveal a white tunic top, and then with a little twist pushed her jeans down her hips.
Misplaced or not, desire pulled his libido’s strings. Time to get a grip; better yet, maybe it was time to get a date. Clearly it had been too long—ever since that article had appeared and the baggers had emerged from the woodwork he’d put himself on a stint of enforced celibacy. Partly because the thought of being chased for his money brought a tang of distaste, and partly because he wanted any press attention to be focused on his charitable activities and not his bedroom ones.
Until now it hadn’t been an issue.
‘So what next?’ Nathan asked.
It was a good question.
The woman was now fully clothed in an outfit that at a glance resembled the uniform worn by all hotel employees; she’d obviously done her research. White tunic top, black trousers—she’d even got a clipboard. The intent look on her face backed up the determined set of her jaw as she swept her magnificent hair into an efficient bun.
Picking up the bag, she opened the door and walked down the corridor. Her stride confident, she looked as though she knew exactly where she was going and why.
Of course there was no way he would allow her access to his guests; it was just fascinating to watch her at work. The first bagger to catch his interest and certainly the most resourceful.
But enough was enough. Time to mobilise the troops.
Before he could say anything Nathan’s massive body tensed as she ducked into the ladies’ restroom. ‘Better hope she is a bagger. For all we know she could be building a bomb in there.’
Staring at the screen, Adam concentrated on unclenching his jaw. It was an outside chance, but it was still possible that the intruder was armed. And he had let a moment of inappropriate attraction blindside him. A pulse started to beat in his cheek and he closed his eyes, grounded himself, before pushing himself away from the desk in a single lithe movement.
‘Close the ladies’. Be discreet. Say it’s a plumbing problem and send your men down there in cleaners’ uniforms.’
Nathan nodded. ‘I’ll go in and get her out,’ he said.
Adam shook his head. ‘I screwed up. I’ll go in.’
‘But...’
‘No buts,’ Adam said. ‘We could’ve stopped her by now. That was my call and I didn’t make it.’ Too busy stewing over the past whilst lusting over a stranger. Who said men couldn’t multitask?
‘I still think...’
Adam shook his head. If he didn’t sort this one out himself the strawberry blondee stranger would haunt his dreams for too long. Best to make her real. Expose her as the avaricious gold-digger she undoubtedly was whilst avoiding the baggers no doubt waiting to hunt him down in the ballroom.
He picked up his tux jacket and gave Nathan his best impression of an action hero. ‘I’m going in.’
* * *
Olivia mentally ran through her entire and extensive repertoire of swear words. This was ridiculous! This was supposed to be the easy bit. The bit where she locked herself into a cubicle and transformed herself from faux hotel employee to fake ballroom guest. All she had to do was change into a party dress. Good grief! What sort of personal shopper couldn’t get herself into a dress? A dress she’d tried on at home with no problem.
But now the stupid zip on the stupid little black blend-right-in dress was stuck. Worse, she couldn’t get out of the skintight concoction to unstick it.
As she twisted she lost her balance and the back of her knee thunked the lip of the toilet seat. ‘Ouch!’ Biting her lip, she stilled. Please let there be no one out there. Though...surely there should be someone out there? Guests must have arrived in droves by now so it made sense that someone would want to freshen up in the ladies’ restroom.
That was the essence of the last stage of her plan. Guests would only be allowed entry into the hotel on production of an invitation, embossed and coded and impossible to duplicate. This was a private party, an annual gala that raised hundreds of thousands of pounds for Support Myeloma, thanks to the auctioneering powers of Adam Masterson. But she was already in the building, and as the invitations were inspected at the foyer of the hotel Olivia figured she should be safe.