Todd rolled his eyes. “You got the money to pay for that? Owens knows how much it’s worth. That’s why he let me use it as my stake. C’mon, Ems. This is the best way, and you know it.”
“It’s not, and I don’t. There are a million other ways we could go about—”
“Name one,” Todd shot back. Emma narrowed her eyes at him. He was getting cocky. He thought he had her.
“I just did.”
Her brother blew a raspberry at her, the annoying ‘thhppppt’ sound making her teeth clench. He knew she hated that.
“Yeah, and we could fly in on dragons and release a cloud of sugar plum fairies to tiptoe in and get the watch. Name one other
valid
idea.”
“You think me disguising myself and sneaking into a millionaire’s house during a charity ball to steal a watch you gambled away is
valid
?” she practically hissed.
Todd flinched. “I know I screwed up, Ems. You don’t have to rub it in. But you were born to do this.”
“Rob someone? Gee, thanks.”
He rolled his eyes. “Avenge the little guy. Stick it to the rich man. Wear a disguise! Man, a few years ago you would have been jumping at the chance. What happened to that Emma? Adventurous Emma. I bet she’s still in there. Let her come out and play.” He grinned.
She took a deep breath. He wasn’t giving this up. He’d always been stubborn. Maybe, Emma thought, just maybe she could play along with his ludicrous scheme. She’d pretend she was on board, let him keep making his far-fetched plans. Eventually he’d either lose interest, or she’d come up with a better idea. One of the two
had
to happen. Resolved, Emma sighed, slumping in her chair.
“It’s not stealing, it’s retrieving,” she repeated again.
Todd grinned. “That’s the spirit, Ems.”
It was almost eleven when Josh finally got off the phone with Arnold Purefoy. He’d had to talk the man down from backing out of the project. Again. He needed to get Ransler on board as soon as possible. And in order to do that, this ball had to come off without a hitch. He’d spent over an hour in Clarice Davenport’s office this morning detailing what he hoped for with this event. The older woman had said ‘no problem’ or some variation to every single concern he’d listed.
The little assistant, Emma, sat quietly almost the whole time, furiously scribbling notes. She’d only spoken up once or twice to ask a question or, in one memorable instance, to actually tell him it wouldn’t be possible to get the sweet, red, golf ball sized yangmei fruit.
“Unless you want them flown in from China, which is the only place they grow. Or at least, the only place they grow it where we can legally do business.”
He’d assured her that’s exactly what he wanted. She blinked emerald-colored eyes at him slowly. He hadn’t realized, until then, what a remarkable shade of green her eyes were. And then she’d bent her head back to her notepad and continued her mad scrawl. Timid or not, he liked her for some reason. Her questions, though quiet, were intelligent and insightful. And she’d had the wherewithal to tell him ‘no’, which not many people (including her own boss) could do. There was a spine under there somewhere, he’d wager.
Still, Josh had been more than a little surprised when Clarice announced Emma would head the team handling his party. He couldn’t imagine this mouse of a girl in charge of a passel of event planners. But Clarice had assured him that Emma was her right-hand woman, and that Clarice would oversee every detail. However, it hadn’t escaped Josh’s notice that Clarice gave him
Emma’s
cell phone number and not her own. He’d had to ask for that.
Clarice and her team were supposed to come out to the house tomorrow and ‘assess the venue’ so they could determine where the food tables would be set up, where the band would go, how many tables they could fit, etc. Emma commented that maybe he could think of some other events, aside from food and dancing, to keep the guests occupied.
Her statement stuck with him all day. The masquerade he’d attended in Paris had included a ‘Living Art’ costume contest, a silent art auction and a well-known artist on hand sketching portraits. All in keeping with the gallery for which they were raising money. He’d almost expected some sort of set-up that allowed the guests to test their painting prowess.
The memory sparked an idea, and he was dialing Clarice Davenport’s cell number before the thought could dissipate. Clarice had assured him her company would be available day or night.
“‘Lo?” The sleepy husky feminine voice on the other end of the line sounded nothing like the silver-haired executive.
“Ms. Davenport?” he asked, confused.
There was a sigh, a throat cleared and then he recognized the quiet voice of Clarice’s assistant, Emma. “She has her calls forwarded after 8 p.m. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you so late, but I had a thought regarding the ball, and I wanted to pass it on before I lost it.”
There was a long pause. When Emma spoke again she sounded fully awake. “Mr. Owens? Give me just a minute to find your folder.”
He heard her set the phone down, followed by muffled shuffling. Unbidden, an image of her petite figure dressed in a nightie with pillow-tousled hair and those bright green eyes drowsy with sleep popped into his mind. He pictured her sitting up in bed and felt a surprisingly bright spark of lust. Her voice came back on the line, and Josh reluctantly pushed the mental portrait away.
“Okay,” she said. “Shoot.” He heard the click of a pen.
“Finger painting.”
“Pardon?” she asked, surprise evident in her tone. He could almost see her thin, dark brows arching upward in his mind’s eye.
He grinned. “Finger painting. Hide and Seek. And maybe Tag, or something like that. Children’s games. Innocent fun that we often neglect as we get older.”
Joshua listened to the faint scratch of her pen and the soft sound of her breathing.
“Okay,” she said. “Was that all?”
He felt his good mood inexplicably deflate. The idea had felt like a stroke of genius, and he’d wanted to share it with someone. But her quietly indifferent tone popped his bubble, and now he felt a little disgruntled. “You said I should come up with some other events. Besides the dancing.”
Josh could practically see her nodding. Her hair whispered against the phone. “And these are good ones. Except maybe for the finger painting. All the expensive clothing, you know.”
He felt somewhat mollified. “You may be right. And we can discuss it more at length tomorrow, with the rest of the team.”
“Can I ask?” she said, “why children’s games? Because of the charity you’re raising money for?”
Thought she wasn’t there to look at him, he shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. He really didn’t like to talk in depth about his charity work. “Just. . . .” He trailed off, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t prompt any more questions. “Seemed thematic, I guess.”
“Ahhh. I see. Well then, if you don’t have anything else for me, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.” She didn’t sound at all enthusiastic. Poor thing probably preferred staying in her office and handling paperwork to being out in the field dealing with people. Promotions seemed an odd line of work for someone so shy. Then again, look at him. Once upon a time he’d been shy, as well. It occurred to him that maybe that’s why he liked her. She reminded him of a young, well, him.
“That’s it. Until tomorrow, at least. Goodnight, Emma.”
He thought he heard her draw in a small breath. “Goodnight, Mr. Owens.”
Josh hung up the phone, pleased with himself.
The next morning, Josh wasn’t at all surprised when the party planners showed up without Clarice.
“Something unexpected came up,” Emma assured him, her cheeks tinged a faint pink. But Josh was beginning to suspect the woman was more of an overseer than a hands-on executive. She’d probably show up a few times, order people around and then disappear again, leaving all the real work to Emma and her team. They were standing in the wide entryway: Emma, three men and two other women. She introduced him to them, but the names flew out of his head again right away. Hers was the name he needed to remember.
“Why don’t I give you a quick tour, so you can see the space we’re talking about, and then we can sit down and start spit-balling something?” he suggested, gesturing the murmuring group and the silent Emma toward the vast living room. She walked ahead of him, making quick notes on a clipboard. She was wearing another tailored business suit, he noticed, this one in dove grey. He couldn’t help but admire the way the slim jacket hugged the curves of her small breasts, or the way the skirt clung to the trim line of her hips and butt. She may be a willowy bit of a thing, but she was lovely in a delicate way.
“How many rooms are there in the house?” she asked, looking at him with raised brows.
Josh blinked. “I have no idea.”
She glanced around, eyes lighting on one of the other planners, a man with pale blonde hair; Josh thought she’d introduced the man as Dagmar, but that couldn’t be right.
“Dag,” she said, smiling. “Could you please get me some blueprints?” Her gaze flicked quickly to Josh. “Unless you have some on hand?”
“I don’t, no.”
“That’s all right,” said the blonde, whose name apparently really was Dagmar. “I’ll get on the phone to Ursula pronto, Ems.”
Emma nodded slightly. “Thank you, Dag.”
He beamed at her and stepped slightly away from the group, pressing his cell phone to his ear. Josh watched Emma study the room around them, noting the windows and the furniture.
“This room would be good for Hide and Seek. Lots of good places to hide. Unless you were thinking of playing that throughout the house? But that might be a problem time-wise. It’s an awfully big house.” She tapped her pen against her clipboard.
Josh smiled, picturing masked guests hiding on all three floors and some poor schlub spending the entire night searching for them. “No, not the whole house. Maybe just a few rooms? The library is through there”—he indicated a door past her—“and behind us on the other side is a den of sorts. That should provide enough cupboards, closets, armoires and desks for hiding places.”
She nodded, her brow smoothing, and made a notation on her clipboard. “Tanya.” She turned to one of the two women: a tall, nondescript girl. “Would you mind going through these three rooms and ascertaining the number of potential hiding places? Just so we’re sure.”
Tanya bobbed in what might have been a strange sort of curtsey and scurried through the door that he’d indicated led to the library. Josh’s brows crawled up his forehead. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”
Emma stared at him, as if she wasn’t sure if he was being serious. “The guest list you provided, which is only partial at this point, includes 300 names. What if 100 people want to play Hide and Seek all at once?”
“Then I feel bad for the poor bugger who has to find them all,” he quipped, grinning at her. He saw the corner of her mouth twitch a little, but she didn’t smile. She’d smiled at Dagmar. And Tanya. But she didn’t smile at him. He supposed it wasn’t completely unsurprising. She knew and worked with them. He was essentially a stranger. A rich, handsome stranger. Josh wasn’t vain, but he knew the effect he could have on women at times. Especially shy ones.
“Yes, well, my point is that we want to make sure your guests enjoy their time. Which means not running out of hiding places.” She managed to inject her tone with the faintest hint of acerbity. Josh was impressed.
Dagmar rejoined them with a skip in his step. “Ursula’s messengering the blueprints over to the office ASAP.”
“Good.” Emma turned her face toward Josh. “Why don’t you show me where you were thinking of having the dancing?”