Stay (Dunham series #2) (29 page)

The grand parlor’s furniture had been rearranged to
accommodate a bluegrass band. A rug had been removed to reveal a
parquet dance floor where already two couples danced.

Vanessa’s concierge glided by and stopped when she
saw him. He didn’t miss the surprised raking glance she gave him.
She hadn’t expected to see him dressed so finely after she’d seen
him this afternoon in worn jeans and cowboy boots. She’d checked
him out earlier with a simple hookup in mind, but now . . .

“Oh, hello again, Mr. Cipriani. I didn’t find your
name in our rolls. Have you booked a room with us yet?”

He had to give her credit for her level of subtlety;
she was very, very good at putting out all the right signals
without actually seeming to. “Yes,” he purred. “I did.”

She affected the appropriate amount of brow wrinkle.
“I’m sorry,” she purred in response. “I must have forgotten which
suite you were in?”

“I’m in the cottage behind the private garage.” Her
eyes widened nearly imperceptibly and her mouth tightened only the
tiniest amount. “For a week,” he added deliberately.

She nodded and smiled. “Very good, sir.”

Eric was feeling very proud of himself by the time
Vanessa fetched him and took him to his table. He wasn’t sure he
wanted to sit with Knox and Justice—and Vachel—right at this
moment, but he could see the place would soon be full, so table
space was at a premium.

She smiled and blushed when he gave her a saucy
grin, but she held his gaze as she led him toward the back, next to
the kitchen. Vachel refused to look up or acknowledge Eric in any
way, but he was used to that.

Eric caught her before she left and said, “Vanessa,
do you know what your pit viper of a concierge is doing as a
sideline?”

Justice stopped eating, her fork halfway to her
mouth and Knox’s head snapped up. They leaned in opposite
directions to look around Eric and Vanessa as Ms. Geier worked the
queue, talking and chatting.

Knox’s jaw clenched; Justice’s eyes narrowed. They
traded significant looks. Vanessa looked amongst them, totally
lost.

“She’s getting fired tonight, Vanessa,” Knox
muttered, then took a sip of his orange juice.

“I don’t understand,” Vanessa murmured helplessly.
Eric wrapped his hand around the side of Vanessa’s neck and drew
her in to his body, his mouth in her ear.

“She’s a workin’ girl. She’s doing one or more of
your guests on a regular basis; she works the line to find more
clients. You can’t possibly be paying her enough to wear the dress
she’s got on—and I’ll bet those diamonds are real. What I can’t
tell for sure is if she’s stealing from your guests or not.”

Her face betrayed her utter shock, but true to form,
she didn’t immediately turn and gape.

“Now or later, Vanessa,” Knox growled. “Your
choice.” He stared up at Vanessa, his face hard and cold. No one
defied Knox when he had that look and that included Vanessa.

Vanessa sighed. “Now. Cottage five.”

Knox threw his napkin in his plate and said, “Let’s
go, Eric.”

“Sucks to be her,” Justice murmured as Knox arose
and strode toward the lobby. Eric offered his arm to Vanessa and
led her back to the line of guests waiting to be seated.

He kissed her cheek and whispered, “I know what
you’re wearing under that pretty outfit.” He smirked when she
blushed and looked away with a smile. By the time Eric headed
outside, Knox and the pit viper had disappeared. He could only
imagine what she’d thought when Knox had offered her his arm and
led her out.

Eric called 911, told the dispatcher who he was, and
had her put him through to the Wright County prosecutor. It wasn’t
long before an unmarked car came up the drive.

The air around the cottage turned blue with the
curses the woman flung at Knox. Eric walked in the front door,
followed by a state trooper, to see Knox sitting in a chair,
watching her pack and saying nothing.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Eric and
the trooper. “Oh, I get it. You’re fucking Vanessa so she wants her
competition fired and sent you and Hilliard out here to do it.”

Eric’s eyebrow rose. “Actually, what I am is a
prosecutor up north and I found your very expensive wardrobe and
jewelry collection noteworthy. Color me cynical.”

Knox laughed and she cast him a glare. “I’ll sue you
for wrongful termination.”

“Knock yourself out.”

Eric smiled benignly. “I’m the one who made you and
I’ve already spoken to the prosecutor here, which is why he so
kindly sent this fine officer along for the party. You might want
to shut your mouth while you pack—and count your blessings I don’t
toss this place to find a reason to throw your ass in jail and
confiscate everything you own.”

It was a long three hours. At the two-hour mark, the
prosecutor, to whom Knox referred only as Cooper, showed up when
he’d gotten no updates. That made the packing process go along a
little faster. It seemed she had little tolerance for four men
sitting around shooting the breeze and laughing while she was in
the process of being unexpectedly forced out of her cush
situation.

The trooper took off to follow her out of town, but
not before Knox said, “C’mon back for a steak when you’re done. On
the house.”

By the time Eric, Knox, and Cooper had gone back
into the dining room, it was nearly deserted though the kitchen
would be open for another hour. Justice and Vachel were eating
apple dumplings with ice cream and chatting amiably.

“Where’s my steak?” Knox demanded, his hands on his
hips as he glared down at his wife.

“Ate it,” Justice murmured as she took a bite of her
dumpling and closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Ya snooze, ya lose.”

Knox snorted. “What about the squirrel and
’possum?”

“Yeah, ate that too.”

Knox looked up at the prosecutor. “Medium, right,
Coop?”

“You know it. Wish I had some of that memory of
yours, Hilliard.”

When Knox turned to go to the kitchen, Eric said,
“I’ll do it. What do you want?”

“Rare,” Knox answered with alacrity as he glanced at
Justice and pulled a chair out for himself.

Eric had grown so used to Knox looking at Justice
that way that he took it for granted, but now he saw it with fresh
eyes. Knox was totally and completely head over heels in love with
Justice, the way Bryce was with Giselle.

He wondered how he looked at Vanessa and what other
people saw.

Eric strode through the kitchen doors and found
Vanessa sitting on a high stool over her marble baking table
writing in a book furiously. “What can I get you, mac?” Alain
asked.

“Prime rib. Two rare, one medium rare, one medium.
Spuds, the works. No salad.”

He walked over to Vanessa and laid his hand on her
back. “You okay?” She held up a finger and continued with whatever
she was writing. He looked over her shoulder and saw her putting
down details of the night’s guests as fast as she could, so he
didn’t speak again until she was finished.

Vachel came through the kitchen, cast an ambiguous
glance at Eric, then proceeded up the stairs. Not long after, he
returned in buckskins and hiking boots, a slack bow and a quiver of
arrows slung over his shoulder.

“Going out for deer tonight, Aunt Vanessa,” he
muttered, sullen, as he passed by them on his way out the back
door. He would look at neither Vanessa nor Eric. “Be back in the
morning.”

Vanessa interrupted her chore and looked up. “Be
careful, please, sweetie. Do you have your phone?”

He grunted and slammed the back door.

She only sighed and went back to writing, which ate
up most of the time it took to get the steaks and potatoes ready,
and then she stopped writing and looked up at him. He could only
think of one thing by then and he crushed her mouth with his. It
only took her a microsecond to close her eyes and follow his lead.
He turned her so he could press her against him, the back of her
head in his palm.

The kitchen staff whooped and whistled, but Eric
didn’t care and apparently, neither did Vanessa.

“Dammit, Eric, I’m hungry and here you two are
making out.”

Their eyes popped open, but Eric wouldn’t let her
pull away from him.

“Pot. Kettle,” he muttered against Vanessa’s mouth,
but loudly enough for Knox to hear.

Knox’s laugh boomed throughout the kitchen and then
the clink of plates really did interrupt things. Eric pulled away
from Vanessa once he realized Knox hadn’t been able to carry all of
the plates himself, although why a waiter wasn’t doing it, he
didn’t know.

“When do you eat?” he asked softly.

“Usually after the kitchen closes and then I eat
with my staff, but not tonight. Alain has my plate ready.”

He and Vanessa took their own plates and found that
Knox had pulled two tables together; he and Justice, the trooper
and the prosecutor were already eating, and then Eric and Vanessa
sat across from Knox and Justice. The dining room was empty except
for the six of them, and the kitchen was officially closed.

A waiter did come by to apologize, but Knox waved
that away.

“Owner has to be willing to do what everybody else
does,” he muttered around his bite.

Soon they had their drinks and visited until Cooper
and the trooper had finished and taken their leave.

“How did you know about Shelly?” Vanessa asked,
disrupting the fatigued lapses in conversation, her voice suddenly
betraying her exhaustion. Eric knew that sensation all too
well.

“I see it all the time,” Eric murmured. “She’s good;
very subtle. I knew something was going on there from earlier
today, but I don’t think I would’ve put it together if she hadn’t
checked out my suit so thoroughly. I could tell when she figured
out how much it cost.”

Knox grunted. “I never caught that.”

Justice snorted and nudged him. “You don’t pay
attention.”

He slid her a glance. “You didn’t catch it,
either.”

“Oh, I saw her check you out, but I thought it was
because you’re beautiful.”

He laughed then and leaned over to kiss her.

Vanessa sighed. “So much to learn. Still. Some days
I feel like I’m new at this. Caught the bartender stealing from the
till last week. The minute I think I can loosen up and delegate
something, I get smacked in the face.”

“How much did he get?” Eric asked.

“As near as I can figure, about a thousand.”

“Chump change,” he murmured. “Businesses like these
get ripped off by the staff; it’s just a fact of life and
overseeing every detail every minute of every day isn’t going to
make it stop happening.”

“Eh, it won’t be hard getting another concierge down
here,” Knox muttered.

Vanessa cast a glance at him and murmured, “Did you
have someone in mind?”

“No, but you’re good at that. You won’t have any
trouble.”

Vanessa’s mouth tightened almost imperceptibly, and
Eric looked to see if Knox had caught that, but of course, he
hadn’t. Looking straight at her, too.

“Yo, Knox, how’d you get anybody hired before I made
myself your executive?” Eric asked casually.

He looked at Eric. Then, “I don’t know,” he said
with a perfectly straight face. “They just kind of started showing
up one day after I started teaching at UMKC, so I put ’em to
work.”

“You have no idea how to hire a concierge, do
you?”

“Uh, no,” he said, staring at Eric, completely
bewildered. “Should I?”

“I hired one,” Vanessa said smoothly, though she
slipped her hand into Eric’s and squeezed. “She starts on July
first. So . . . just a couple of months without one. No
problem.”

Eric looked at her. “Had you been planning . . .
?”

“No,” she said softly. “I wanted a graveyard
concierge.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied just as
softly.

Her pretty eyes opened a little wider, and Eric
figured he could fall right into those eyes, the color of the
Morning Glory Pool at Yellowstone.

“Okay, well, I might not know how to hire people,”
Knox said, then stood and stretched, “but I do know how to
fire
them and it wears me out.” He held his hand out to
Justice, who took it and the two of them strolled away toward the
elevator snuggling, talking quietly, their fingers laced.

Eric looked at Vanessa, who watched him
thoughtfully.

“What did you mean, ‘don’t worry about it?’”

“I’d like to help you find a concierge, if you’ll
let me,” he murmured, raising his hand to run his thumb over her
bottom lip. He damn near lost it when she pressed her lips against
it. “Since, you know, I got the other one fired. Will you,
Vanessa?”

She stared at him, kissing his thumb, and he knew
that at that moment, she understood he was asking about a whole lot
more than the hiring of a concierge. What, exactly, he was asking
about . . . well, even he didn’t know that.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Please.”

“Do you ever take a day off?” he asked softly.

She snorted rudely and pulled away from him to take
another bite of her food. “I only take days off for my family’s
funerals. If it’s not one thing around here, it’s another. Everyone
within a thirty-mile radius screamed at me for leaving them for the
funerals, even.”

It occurred to Eric that he might not actually mind
coming here to help her as often as possible. After all, he had a
staff of assistant prosecutors and had nearly completely withdrawn
from his dojo.

“How much control does Knox have here?”

She gestured toward the lobby with her fork. “As you
can see, as much as he wants.”

“Or as little.”

She shrugged. “He does do the dirty work if he’s
here and catches it himself. If he’s not here—well, before he moved
to Utah, I mean—if I told him what dirty work I needed done, he’d
come and do it.”

“And you’ve been doing everything else and that too
since he went to Utah.”