Jingle of Coins Page 6

  A few moments later, the rapping ceased, and footsteps faded. Letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Emily sagged against the counter. Her hands shook as she stuffed a tea bag into her coffee cup and sloshed water over it.

  She thought about Kate’s scarcely concealed dismay and wondered what kind of problem Kate was having. Obviously it was something bad; the undercurrent of tension between Kate and Stu was evident, even to a stranger. She debated broaching the subject to Kate and decided to keep her mouth shut. Kate’s affairs were none of her business. God knows she had enough problems of her own right now. If Kate asked for help, then she’d do what she could. Best to leave matters alone for now. That way, whatever problem Kate had wouldn’t come and visit her house.

  Chapter Seven

  The moment a hand touched her shoulder, Emily let out a gasp and, sinking beneath the surface, choked on the pool’s heavily chlorinated water. The same hands that startled her out of her exercise lap grabbed her upper arm and hauled her back to the surface.

  “Sorry,” Glen apologized, helping her stay afloat.

  “What were you trying to do, drown me?”

  “I thought you saw me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She removed her elbow from his grasp. “Well, you did.”

  “Okay, I promise not to try and drown you next time, and I’m sorry about forcing you to take a drink,” he lamented. His grin deepened and a dimple flashed in and out of his cheek. “At least there aren’t any kids in the pool, so the water’s probably safe to ingest.”

  “That’s disgusting.” She treaded water as she spoke, then grabbed the edge of the pool. “So, was there any particular reason you stopped me? Or do you always get in the path of people trying to swim laps?”

  “I thought I might swim a couple laps with you. You mind? It’s easier to pace yourself that way. Keeps your speed up.”

  She stared at him for a few moments. “Sure.”

  He matched her lap for lap, and when they completed ten, Emily called it quits. “I’ve had enough exercise for one morning,” she announced when she reached the shallow end. “Ten is my limit.” She glanced at the empty chaise lounges and tables. “It sure is quiet this time of the day. It’s as if we’re the only ones up.”

  “We probably are. A lot of people work nights and don’t get up until eleven or twelve. I’m on days, so I try to jog or swim before I go in.” He kept silent for a few moments, then cleared his throat. “Have you met any of the other tenants?”

  “Yeah. I met some last night.”

  “Good. Most of the folks in here are…nice.”

  She noted the slight change in tone, as if he was being careful to choose his words. “What are you trying to tell me?” she asked, suddenly wary. She waited for him to respond, and when he didn’t, a pregnant silence grew between them. “Well?” she demanded. “If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise I’m leaving.”

  “There is one thing I ought to caution you about.” He glanced around the pool, then lowered his voice. “I saw you come out of Kate’s apartment last night.”

  “So? What were you doing—spying on me? Get a life,” she stated bluntly, moving toward the ladder.

  Glen grabbed her arm and tugged her back. “I wasn’t spying on you,” he lied. “I’ve known Kate for several years. I only wanted to ask if you knew what she did for a living.”

  “I don’t care what she does. It’s none of my business.”

  Glen held up one hand. “Humor me, please. What did Kate say she did?”

  “Don’t you have anything better to do than gossip?”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Well?”

  This guy was unbelievable! “Geez. If you must know, she told me she owns a small business and trades stocks and bonds. Satisfied?”

  His dimple flashed in and out as his lips curved into a crooked smile. “Close, but no banana. It’s more like she does the stockbrokers, not the bonds. Kate’s an ultra-exclusive call girl. In fact, she’s the most expensive call girl in Vegas. I’ve seen her in action at the casinos.”

  “I find that hard to believe. She doesn’t look or act like a hooker. She has excellent taste in her clothes and her apartment.”

  “I’m not lying. She really is an exclusive prostitute. I figured she’d hedge about telling you what she really does for a living. Kate’s not your typical call girl. That’s why she’s so exclusive. She tends to be closed mouthed, especially around strangers. I don’t even think the apartment manager knows. I just thought you ought to know, since you live next door.”

  Emily rubbed her chin to cover her surprise. “Wait a minute.” She glanced up sharply, remembering Kate’s visitor. “She wouldn’t entertain clients here, would she?”

  “No. Call girls as exclusive as Kate keep a separate apartment to entertain clients and do everything they can to make sure their private lives stay private.”

  Emily walked over to the chaise lounge where she’d stashed her towel. She wrapped it around her waist, then stuck her feet into flimsy sandals. “Thanks. I appreciate the heads up.”

  Glen matched her step for step. “I normally wouldn’t say anything, but I figured you ought to know, in case somebody comes to your apartment by mistake.”

  Remembering the absence of sex in her life and her recent desire to remedy that deficit, Emily smiled. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if one of Kate’s clients did come to her door. Especially if he was good looking—and rich.

  “What’s so funny?” Glen asked, puzzled by her grin.

  “Nothing,” she said, still grinning. “You wouldn’t understand, even if I tried to explain.” She struggled to curb her laughter, but couldn’t. “I appreciate the info. Thanks.”

  Glen watched Emily saunter back to her apartment. She certainly hadn’t reacted to his news the way he’d anticipated. And, she’d covered her surprise better than he thought she would, which validated his original assumption that not only was she smart, she could also think on her feet. As he turned toward his own apartment, he tried to figure out what she’d found funny, but failed.

  The living room clock chimed as he opened his door. Damn it, he’d spent more time than anticipated at the pool; he’d have to hurry if he was going to meet Pete Goldman in the parking lot and still make it to work on time.

  Pete was waiting in a truck parked at the curb. Glen walked around to the passenger side and got in. “Nice cover,” he observed, noting the photo identification badge clipped to Pete’s left shoulder. City worker’s coveralls and a hardhat completed the disguise, and a clipboard littered with pieces of paper that looked like official work orders rested on the seat between them.

  “Everything set? You know what she looks like?”

  Pete nodded. “Short hair, slender build, lives in apartment number 118. Drives the white Jeep over on the right.”

  “Right. Follow her when she leaves, and let me know where she goes. Don’t make contact, and don’t let her catch on that she’s being followed.”

  “Got it. Where and when do we meet?”

  Glen pulled out a small cell phone and placed it on the seat. “I get off at three. I’ll check in with you then.” He glanced at his watch. “Any questions?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good.”

  The smell of egg, cheese, and onions beginning to burn interrupted Emily’s musings about her encounter with Glen, and she scooped the omelet out of the frying pan. Obviously he’d felt it necessary to tell her about Kate’s profession. She could only hope that it had been because he was interested in her. Nothing else she’d come up with made any sense.

  God knows she was certainly interested in him. She recalled the ripples of muscles across his back as he swam and the flatness of his stomach. Oh yeah, she was definitely interested!

  Glancing at the wet swimsuit clinging to her body, she decided it was time to buy a new one—preferably something sexy. It wouldn’t hurt to look enticing both in and out of the pool.


  Humming softly, she carried her breakfast into the bedroom and set it next to her computer. It didn’t take long to pull up the file she’d made with the names and addresses of every casino in town. Between forkfuls of steaming omelet, she consulted her list, skipping the casinos she’d already been to, and selected the one she planned to visit next. She moved it to the “already visited” column, saved the file, switched off the computer, and changed into a tank top with matching shorts. Ten minutes later, she waved a thank you to the utility truck driver who allowed her to ease onto the busy street, and headed toward the strip.

  One hour later and seven hundred dollars richer, she left the casino and strolled through the maze of exclusive shops near the lobby. An emerald green swimsuit on display in one of the windows caught her eye, and she went inside to look at it. Two hundred dollars was pricey, but the moment she tried the suit on, she knew she had to have it. Even though it was a one-piece, the sexy cut of the bodice emphasized and lifted her breasts, and the French cut legs gave extra length to her shapely gams.

  Thoroughly pleased with her purchase, she continued window shopping, only pausing when the scent of fresh flowers lured her into the hotel’s floral shop. Beautiful, fragrant flowers greeted her at every turn, and she stopped to caress the velvety petals of a purple iris arrangement. It was beautiful, but she realized that it was also incomplete. All it needed was a couple of those yellow…

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” the sales clerk remarked from behind the register.

  Startled, Emily dropped her hand. She hadn’t noticed the woman when she walked in. “Yes, it is.” She glanced around the shop, noting for the first time that she was the only customer. Putting her swimsuit bag on the counter, she studied the woman for a moment. “Would you mind if I made a suggestion?”

  The clerk’s eyes widened. “What kind of suggestion?”

  “One that would make that arrangement even more beautiful than it already is,” Emily said, trying to infuse a note of confidence in her tone. Her fingers itched to touch the arrangement. “Let me show you what I’m talking about. If you don’t like it, I’ll change it back.”

  “I don’t know,” the girl countered hesitantly, rubbing the buttons on the front of her blouse. “Nobody’s supposed to touch the arrangements. Let me get the manager.”

  A few moments later, she returned with another woman, who appeared to be several years older. “I’m the manager,” the older woman announced. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Emily could feel the heat climbing up her neck. Good Lord, she’d made a fool of herself without even trying! “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to offend your clerk. It’s just that the iris arrangement on the counter called out to me the minute I saw it. It’s beautiful, but it needs another color to make it complete.”

  The woman raised one eyebrow, but said nothing.

  Embarrassed by her outburst, Emily grabbed her bag. “Look, I didn’t mean to cause a problem. I’ll just go.” She spun around and started for the exit.

  “Wait,” the manager called out. “Are you a floral designer?”

  “No, but I’ve worked with flowers my entire life.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  The woman was actually taking her seriously! “I’d use some small yellow roses.”

  To her amazement, the manager grabbed the arrangement and walked toward a room to the right of the register. “Come with me,” she called out as she disappeared through the doorway.

  Keeping her swimsuit bag clutched firmly under her arm, Emily entered a small workroom littered with floral tape, foam, vases, and cut greenery. She watched as the manager placed the arrangement in the center of a worktable and stepped away.

  “Sarah, please bring the miniature yellow roses.” Turning to Emily, the woman motioned toward the arrangement. “Show me what you meant.”

  Encouraged by the woman’s attitude, Emily reached for the slender stems, wrapped them with wire supports, then strategically placed eight roses in the arrangement. Stepping back to view the result, she plucked out two, then shifted the others until she was satisfied with the overall effect. “What do you think?”

  Time seemed to stand still while the manager studied the arrangement. Finally, she nodded, and Emily let out the breath she’d been holding. “You’re right,” the woman agreed. “The splashes of yellow are a perfect foil for the irises. Normally I’d never let a customer touch an arrangement, but, like you, I felt this piece was missing something." She eyed Emily for a moment. “Are you looking for a job?”

  Emily’s pulse quickened. “Maybe. What are you offering?”

  “My regular designer quit two days ago. I’m looking for someone to design arrangements for the shop and for weddings. Interested?”

  “What are the hours?”

  “Nine to five, including some holidays,” the woman replied. “Why don’t you come into my office and we’ll talk about your qualifications? Oh, and before I forget my manners, my name’s Clarise Forbes.”

  When Emily left the manager’s office an hour and a half later, she’d secured the position of floral designer, subject to a background check and mandatory drug testing. If all went well, she could start work in about a week and a half.

  She unlocked her car and tossed the swimsuit bag onto the passenger seat. For once, things seemed to be going her way. Not only had she secured a job doing something she loved; if her talent held out, she’d be able to further the nest egg that would someday provide the down payment for a floral shop of her own. And, provided Glen didn’t turn out to be a jerk, she could foresee the possibility of developing a romantic relationship. If nothing else, he could still be a candidate for a boy toy, or in his case, man toy, since he was built like a stud, with a butt that wouldn’t quit, and gorgeous! Life was definitely getting interesting!

  Chapter Eight

  At ten minutes to three, Glen dialed his cell phone. “What’s going on?”

  “Not much,” Pete replied. “Looks like our bird’s headed home.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. Since Emily was headed home, maybe he wouldn’t have to traipse all over Vegas after her once Pete left. He disliked shadowing people; that’s why he’d hired Pete. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

  “Roger.”

  Pete’s truck was already parked at the curb when Glen arrived. Acting as normal as possible, he pulled into his allotted space, then casually walked over. “Anything interesting happen?” he asked as he leaned against the driver’s door and braced one arm over the window.

  Pete shook his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. She went to the Emerald Lagoon, played the quarter machines until she hit a small jackpot, then went shopping. The only unexpected thing she did was enter the hotel’s florist shop and come out with another woman. They went to the Human Resources Department. Guess she’s applying for a job. She stayed in there a little over an hour, then came home.”

  “Good. See you tomorrow.”

  “Right.”

  Glen watched Pete’s truck disappear around the corner, then wandered over to the pool. The sound of laughter and the smell of chlorinated water greeted him as he paused to watch a vigorous game of water polo. Three bikini-clad women sitting at a table at the other end of the pool waved and invited him to join their group, but he declined when he spotted an open table across from Emily’s apartment. Tilting the overhead umbrella, he sat in the metal chair and pretended to read his newspaper, sneaking surreptitious glances toward Emily’s apartment every few minutes. Although he watched her open the living room curtains, she didn’t venture out.

  The smell of expensive perfume tickled his nose as a shadow fell across his table. “Hello, Glen. Long time, no see,” Kate announced as she sank gracefully into a chair.

  He allowed his eyes to drink their fill of the woman. Even dressed in a white tee shirt and red spandex shorts, Kate’s natural grace and beauty still commanded attention. God, she was beautiful—the perfect blend of s
umptuous vixen and virginal innocence, which, considering her line of work, made her appearance even more remarkable. Perfectly tanned skin complemented the flaxen hair that outshone the sapphire and diamond clip clinging to it. She wore her hair in a thick braid, and it flowed down one shoulder to rest in the valley between her breasts. His thoughts took on a life of their own, and he quickly reminded himself that this goddess was not for him. Not now, not ever.

  “Hello, Kate. I wondered when you’d come see me.”

  “I was surprised to see you’d moved into the complex.”

  “Not as surprised as I was to find you here. I would’ve thought you’d be living in one of those super-exclusive condo units across town.”

  “The owner offered, but I declined. Too many reporters hanging around. Here I can come and go as I please.”

  Glen nodded. “That makes sense. I understand why you try to keep your personal and professional lives separate.”

  She leaned forward and locked her eyes with his. “Which is precisely why we’re going to have a little chat.”

  “What kind of chat? Is it about your line of work or the fact that I saw Stu Bogrand coming out of your apartment?”

  She started to speak, but he cut her off, “Don’t worry; I’m not about to squeal to the landlady."

  She exhaled slowly and then ran a perfectly manicured fingernail around the gilded edge of her wine glass. “I never bring my clients here.”

  “That’s nice. I’ll sleep better knowing the vice squad won’t be hanging around all the time, waiting to bust you and one of your so-called clients.” He studied her for a few moments, then continued, “You know, if Stu comes to visit you again, the landlady’s bound to put two and two together. For God’s sake, Kate, it isn’t as if the man’s picture hasn’t been plastered across the front page of the newspaper the last couple of months.”