High Stakes. Barbara Dunlop
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wasn’t sure she’d heard right. “Excuse me?”
“After three months of marriage, I can highly recommend it.”
“Over-sharing,” said Candice.
Jenna grinned, nodding toward the group of men. “I bet any one of them would be willing—”
Candice took a backward step. “Think I’ll go up and check on the Lighthouse.”
“What’s to check? You’re off duty, and we’re setting you up here.”
There was no way in the world Candice was hanging around while Jenna set her up. She tried to pull her arm from Jenna’s grasp. “I want to make sure the paneling was delivered.”
Jenna’s hand tightened. “It’s not like you’ll be able to do anything about it before Monday.”
Candice reached out to disentangle Jenna’s fingers. “I’ll sleep better if I take a quick look. You go ahead and scope out prospects while I’m gone.”
Jenna brightened. “Really?”
“Sure. Why not?” Since Candice had no intention of coming back to the wedding reception, Jenna could scope to her heart’s content. Candice wasn’t even planning to go up to the restaurant. Just as soon as she was out of sight, she was heading for the main door of the lobby and grabbing a taxi.
“See you later.” She started in the direction of the express elevator that serviced the rooftop restaurant. As she walked, she kept an eye on Jenna to gauge the best moment for her escape.
Not quite yet. Tyler had appeared out of the crowd, and both he and Jenna focused on Candice. They exchanged a few words, and then Tyler’s eyes lit up. They both waved happily.
Jenna had obviously enlisted his aid. How humiliating.
Candice gave them a brittle smile and waved back, making a show of pressing the elevator button. Unfortunately, the elevator was parked on the ballroom floor, and the doors immediately opened. She had no choice but to step inside.
Then the doors slid shut behind her, blocking out the orchestra and the buzz of conversation. She sighed in relief as she leaned against the cool wall, resting her hands on the metal rail, tipping her head back. It was nice in here.
The elevator rushed smoothly upward. Through the outer glass wall, Candice could see the black lake, the stars and the lights of Seattle.
She loved the Quayside. As the major shareholder, Derek was a major pain, but the building was beautiful. It was a stunning example of mid-twentieth century red brick and terra-cotta.
She and Jenna’s decorating business, Canna Interiors, was just getting established in Seattle, so they were taking every job they were offered. But Candice hoped they’d be able to specialize in historic buildings like the Quayside. They were the city’s heart and soul.
The doors slid open on the fortieth floor, and she decided she’d better kill a little time before going back down to escape. She left the elevator, and her footsteps echoed on the raw plywood as she made her way down the hall.
The entire floor was closed for renovation. The paneling had been delivered, but then she’d already known that. Sheets of plywood, stacks of wood paneling and cans of paint were clustered against the foyer walls.
She passed through the big, antique double doors that led into the dining room. The wallboard had been peeled back to reveal arched window openings, and the glaziers had just finished installing new windows. The view of the city was spectacular.
Abandoning the bouquet on a sawhorse, she squinted around the room, picturing antique light fixtures, turn-of-the-century paintings, white tablecloths, hurricane lamps and fine china. Her gaze caught and held on the half-finished wine rack, apprehension sliding through her stomach. Something wasn’t right.
She started toward it.
Lifting the plans from the raw wood top, she read the hand-scrawled note stapled to one corner. She stifled the urge to scream. She’d given specific instructions on the placement and the dimensions of the wine rack. But Derek had undermined her authority, yet again.
She crumpled the note in a tight fist. He might be the reason she and Jenna had this job in the first place, but she had to put a stop to the man’s meddling. Forget cutting out on the reception, maybe she’d go back to the ballroom and track him down. Track him down, corner him and set the ground rules once and for all.
As she formulated a scathing lecture, the elevator doors down the hall whirred open. Measured, masculine footsteps headed along the passageway toward her. Perfect. Jenna had sent up a date. Could the evening get any worse?
She started toward the double doors, intent on sending the hapless man away. But when Derek appeared, she stopped short.
Tall, broad-shouldered and athletic, his strong chin, aristocratic nose and piercing blue eyes combined with his wealth and power to give him anything he wanted in life.
But not this time.
Not with her.
He froze, hitting her with a narrow-eyed, suspicious gaze. “What are you doing up here?”
“At the moment, I’m trying to figure out how much damage you’ve done.”
He continued toward her, imposing in his best man tux. “What are you talking about? What damage?”
As he grew closer, she was glad to be wearing three-inch heels.
Drawing herself up, refusing to be intimidated, she folded her arms across her chest and nodded at the wine rack. “Take a look at that.”
Before focusing on the wine rack, Derek’s gaze stopped for a moment on the empty doorway, a puzzled frown forming on his face. Then he moved on. “I don’t see any damage.”
The muscles in the back of her neck tensed, and her voice went up an octave. “Of course you don’t. Because you have no clue what we’re doing here.”
“I know exactly what we’re doing here. We’re renovating my restaurant.”
Candice stepped closer to the wine rack, gesturing to the base with an open hand. “Are you trying to waste money?”
“I’m trying to save money.”
“False economy.”
Derek’s full mouth curved up in a cynical grin. “How many millions do you suppose have been wasted using that logic?”
“You have trust issues, you know that?”
“I trust people.”
“Uh-huh.”
“As long as they’re within my sight.”
Candice pointed at him and then pointed to her chest. “You lied to me, remember?”
“And you threatened to waste my money.”
“Because you’d told us you were Derek Reeves—”
“I am Derek Reeves.”
“Being Derek Reeves is quite different than being Derek Reeves-DuCarter.”
“You never fessed up to being Candice Hammond, either.”
Candice had to admit, it was odd they’d gone two weeks without realizing each other’s identity. She’d heard about the Reeves-DuCarters all her life, had known they were in competition with her father, had even met Derek’s father at a party or two. Still, she hadn’t put it together.
“I never lied about who I was,” she said.
“No,” Derek agreed. “It was Tyler that kept that little tidbit to himself.”
“So pick on your brother, and leave me alone.”
“I can’t leave you alone.”
“Why