Josh strolled into the office of Picture Perfect Promotions the next day at eleven. His appointment wasn’t until half past, but he liked to be early. It gave him a chance to scope out his surroundings. Clarice Davenport, owner and CEO of the company, practically leapt through the phone and crawled into his lap when she heard he was personally planning an event. Martin assured him Picture Perfect was the best, but Josh wasn’t taking this lightly. He wanted to prove to William Ransler that he cared about the projects he was involved in.
He approached the receptionist, a pretty blonde girl, and gave her his Hollywood smile. She blushed. Josh placed one hand on the polished wood of the reception desk and touched her sleeve lightly. He glanced at the placard in front of her. “Karen, I’m Joshua Owens. I have an eleven thirty appointment with Ms. Davenport. I am a little early, I know. I was wondering if someone, maybe you, could give me a tour of the building beforehand?”
“I—I don’t know, sir. I’m not supposed to leave my desk,” she squeaked. She blinked at him rapidly, as if trying to shake herself from a trance.
He placed his whole hand on her arm and she stilled, a goofy grin spreading across her face. He didn’t think she was more than twenty. “That’s all right, Karen. I understand. Don’t worry about it.”
He stepped back, prepared to take his seat.
“Is everything okay, Karen?” a woman purred from behind him.
Josh turned, taking in the new arrival’s flirty skirt and stiletto heels. She grinned at him in welcome, tilting her head the slightest bit, drawing attention to the impossibly red shade of her hair. “Is there something I can help you with, sir? I’m Sascha. I work in marketing.” She extended her hand.
He took it, shaking firmly. She held on a little too long. Josh extricated himself neatly. “Nice to meet you, Sascha. I have a meeting with Ms. Davenport shortly, but I was just asking Karen if she knew of someone who could give me a little tour first.”
“Oh,
you
could do it, Ms. Cadigan. Couldn’t you?” Karen asked, wide-eyed.
Sascha’s smile was predatory. “I’d be happy to show you everything, Mr. . . .” She trailed off, quirking one perfectly groomed brow.
“Owens,” Josh said, letting her take his arm. “Joshua Owens.”
She led him down the corridor, doing a fairly decent job of giving him a rundown of the company while maintaining a steady come-on. Josh flirted back. He wasn’t really interested—he hadn’t had the urge to attempt a relationship with anyone lately—but there was no harm in flirting. It was fun.
“Let me show you the warehouse.” Sascha pulled him toward a flight of steps leading down. Josh got the distinct feeling she was going quite beyond a little innocent flirting now.
“Perhaps later. It’s nearly time for my meeting with Ms. Davenport.”
“Nonsense,” Sascha purred, pressing her chest against him arm. “Clarice is always late. You have tons of time.”
When a petite brunette in a sleek business suit stepped out of a nearby doorway, Josh almost grabbed her. Her dark brows knit together when she saw him but her expression went carefully blank as she switched her gaze to Sascha.
“Excuse me, Sascha, but Mr. Olivet is looking for you. He says it’s urgent.”
Sascha sighed and relinquished her grip on his arm. “I’m sorry, but I have to go deal with this. Perhaps we can pick up where we left off after your meeting.”
“Unfortunately I have a very busy schedule. Could you direct me to Ms. Davenport’s office?” He didn’t want to be rude, but there was nothing about the redhead he found appealing. Maybe a few years ago he would have been impressed by her sexy facade, but in recent years he’d grown tired of the Hollywood dating scene. All the women who expressed interest in him were . . . well, like Sascha. Hyenas, willing to prey on anything. Sharp, fashion-conscious, overtly sexy hyenas.
He saw the flicker of anger in Sascha’s eyes at his refusal. Her voice was a lot brusquer when she answered. “Just go—”
“I can show him,” the brunette offered softly.
Josh looked at her again. The business suit was finely tailored to her slender frame, accentuating her trim waist and the feminine curve of her hips. Her glossy brown hair was tied up in a sleek chignon. She was pretty in a quiet way, with very delicate features, almost waifish. She didn’t meet either Sascha’s or his gaze for very long, eyes darting away frequently. Timid, he decided.
“I’d appreciate that.”
She cast another quick look at Sascha. It was clear there was no love lost between these two women. Sascha glanced at her watch and gave a small harrumph.
“Fine, Emma. Take him straight to Ms. Davenport’s, then come help me with whatever Olivet’s on about now.”
Emma nodded to the other woman and then briefly raised her eyes to Josh’s. “If you’ll follow me.” She motioned him back the way they’d come and scooted around him.
Josh smiled a little, marveling at the myriad reactions he seemed to be engendering in women today. “Thank you, Emma. I appreciate it. I’d hate to miss my meeting.”
She ducked her head. “It’s not far.”
“I’m Josh, by the way. Josh Owens.” He extended his hand once again, wondering if she’d have the temerity to shake it.
Her shoulders hunched forward a little, as if she wanted to fold in on herself, but she took his hand and shook it quickly. Her hands were as small as the rest of her, he noticed.
“I know who you are,” she said, her voice still hardly a murmur. “Everyone does. Ms. Davenport’s had everyone in a whirl preparing for your arrival.”
He chuckled. “I hope I’m not causing a terrible inconvenience. But my assistant assures me Picture Perfect is the very best when it comes to local events, and I’m planning one of particular importance, so I need the very best.”
She stopped abruptly, indicating wide doors across the hall. “Ms. Davenport’s office is just through there.”
Josh touched her shoulder, and she twitched in surprise. He drew his hand back quickly, smiling kindly at her. “Thank you again, Emma. I appreciate it.”
“It was nothing,” she mumbled. Then, she turned and scurried away like a mouse. Shaking his head, Josh opened the door to Clarice Davenport’s office.
Emma raced to the ladies’ room and locked herself in a stall, pressing her forehead to the cool metal door while her heart galloped like a champion stallion. Acid churned in her stomach. Last night, Todd had outlined his plan to get her into Josh’s mansion. It involved getting her a fake invitation to a ball Josh was going to give, information her brother had obtained god knew how. It sounded far-fetched, honestly, like the plot of some spy thriller he’d seen on TV. She’d listened incredulously, half-expecting to wake up and have it all be some strange dream.
She had not at all been expecting to see Joshua Owens himself at her place of business. It had fleetingly occurred to her that Picture Perfect might be working the ball Todd had told her about. They’d worked on things for Owens before, but they’d always dealt with his assistant, a nice man named Martin Kellar. Joshua had never had anything to do with the planning aspect before. Some of the society women came themselves, but most of the too-rich-to-bother crowd sent their assistants to do the dirty work.
Emma briefly wondered what he was doing here personally, but she shoved the thought away. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that Todd had been right about the ball. This would probably be their only chance to get into the mansion and retrieve Daddy’s watch. She could sneak in with a delivery of champagne or something, find his office, get the watch and get out. With a valid reason to be in the house, she should be fine. In theory. Which was all it was, at this point. She wasn’t actually going to steal anything. Even if she could easily get into Joshua Owens’ office, now.
Except Todd didn’t exactly remember where in the house the office was, and Emma could hardly go wandering around the premises. Not unless—
The chirping of her phone startled her. She almost dropped it into the toilet while attempting to answer it. “Hello, this is Emma.”
“Emma.” Her boss’ clipped voice was loud in the small stall. “Can you come to my office please?”
Her heart, which had begun to slow down its pace, suddenly became a show jumper. There’s no way Josh Owens was gone yet. Which could only mean Clarice wanted her to sit in on the meeting. She did that occasionally, for larger projects. Clarice was big on delegation and delegated a great portion of her work to Emma.
“I’ll be right there,” Emma sighed.
Her boss didn’t say anything else; she just hung up. Emma exited the stall and splashed some cool water on her face, trying to prepare herself to sit in the same room with the man she was planning to rob. Not that she would actually go through with it.
“It’s not stealing,” she whispered to her flushed reflection, repeating the words Todd had uttered last night. “It’s retrieving.”
The face looking back at her didn’t look any more convinced than she felt.
Todd stared at her, a wide smile breaking out on his boyish face. “That’s perfect!” He leaned back in his chair at her kitchen table, stretching his arms behind his head.
“Perfect?” she hissed, fingers twisted into knots. “I’m working lead on the ball! You think he won’t recognize me if I show up the night of? Come on, Todd. We’ll have to figure something else out. Maybe if I talk to him. . . .” But she trailed off, because she knew that was just as ridiculous as this plan of Todd’s.
“No.” Todd shook his head emphatically. “It’s got to be the ball. That way there will be too many guests there for him to be suspicious of any single person. And Ems, don’t be silly. He won’t recognize you. It’s a
masquerade
ball! And you’re, like, the master of disguise. Which one of us was it who convinced Aunt Margaret they were their own best friend, an English girl named Penelope? I’m pretty sure that was you.”
“I was fourteen. And Aunt Margaret had cataracts.”
“And that summer the old witch sent me away to that horrible camp, who posed as our Aunt and came and got me out? The director had even met her before! C’mon, Emma. You’ve been doing the dress rehearsal for something like this your whole life.”
Emma slumped. When Clarice put her in charge of the team planning Josh’s party, Emma thought for sure Todd would give up his scheme. But Todd just seemed more determined than ever.
“You don’t think he’ll put it together that I’m your sister and find it awfully suspicious when the watch
you
lost to him disappears the night of a party
I
planned?” The sooner she got him off this absurd track, the sooner the two of them could figure out a better way to get the watch back.
Todd’s face fell. “You told him you were my sister? Geez, Em!”
“Of course not! But—”
“Did you tell him your last name?” he asked. Emma opened her mouth to answer, then shut it again. She thought back over the day and realized that at no point had either Sascha or Clarice addressed her by her surname.
“No.”
His shoulders relaxed and the smile began creeping back. Todd was incorrigible. “Then we’re fine. He has no reason to associate a professional gambler with a chick who sends out press releases for wine tastings. Plus, while you’re planning the party, you can scope out the house, get the lay of the land. Then, we score you a ticket to the ball and dress you up in a disguise. The place will be full of people in masks; there’s no way he’ll recognize you.”
Emma bit back a snort at his characterization of himself as ‘a professional gambler’. She stared at her brother, wondering what she was going to do. Todd could be relentless. And she couldn’t leave her father’s watch in Joshua Owens’ hands. They had to get it back where it belonged. But surely there was another way.
“Why don’t you have one of your buddies try and buy it off him? He could pose as a watch collector or something.”