someone into giving her information on a resident who probably maintained a very low profile.
An elevator delivered her to a street-level lobby, the only option, for security reasons. And once the doors had opened, she knew she’d been right about Harper being accustomed to money. The lobby décor was stunning—only the best—furnishings gilded in gold and chic fabrics, huge displays of fresh flowers, real paintings in oil, with overhead speakers subtly playing classical music in the background. The minute she stepped into the atrium, all eyes were on her—a doorman, a maid in uniform wiping down windows to the revolving front door, and an older man in a fancy suit retrieving a newspaper.
Jess cleared her throat, feeling completely out of place. She hadn’t given much thought to where she’d end up today after she’d dressed that morning. Her faded jeans and black Gold’s Gym tee were second nature to her. And the lightweight jacket she wore covered her Colt Python. But one thing Jess had learned long ago. No one made her feel second-rate unless she let it happen. She dragged fingers through her dark hair in a nearby mirror, pretending to care what the Chicago wind had done to her locks, but in actuality she was scanning the lobby for the layout and the location of the elevators used by the residents.
After a respectable time, she held her chin high and walked toward the Concierge desk, forcing a smile. A short pudgy man with red cheeks, a tan-and-gold uniform, and thinning dark hair greeted her.
“May I help you, miss?” He grinned and cocked his head, an almost robotic move. Way too perky to suit her.
“Actually, you can.” She tapped her fingernails on the counter between them, trying flirty on for size. “I’m pretty sure my younger brother lives here, but he doesn’t know I’ve come to the city. I’d love to surprise him by knocking on his door. Could you please tell me his suite number?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t give out his room number. We protect the privacy of our guests. I’m sure you understand.”
“Oh…sure. Then maybe someone could accompany me to his room? When he opens the door, you’ll see it’ll be okay with him, I promise.”
Jess knew hotel personnel might resist giving her the suite number outright, but all she needed was the room number to come back after hours. Seeing the inside of Harper’s suite might give her another lead about him and the person he might be protecting.
“And what’s your brother’s name?” the concierge asked, poised over a computer on his desk.
“Seth Harper. Like I said, he’s not expecting me.” She smiled and shrugged. “It’s a surprise.”
Yeah, a real surprise . Her plan had been to get confirmation that Harper lived here. And it looked as if the man behind the desk might just do that, but in an unexpected move, he narrowed his eyes, and said, “Excuse me. What did you say your name was?”
Harper’s name had triggered a defense mechanism in the man, and Jess had no idea why. For a second, she contemplated lying about her name, but chose not to.
“Jessica Beckett. A married name.” She mirrored the man’s concern on her face. “Is there something wrong?”
“Do you mind if I see some identification?” he said, but when she looked surprised, he added, “Like I said, we like to protect the privacy of our guests.”
“I’ve come to the right address, haven’t I? I haven’t been downtown since he moved in here.” She handed him her driver’s license. “Seth lives here, right?”
The man didn’t answer. Something in his eyes told her he knew Harper, yet there was more at play. He did imply Harper was a guest, but she couldn’t count on that as confirmation, not enough for breaking and entering.
“Excuse me.” He took her license and stepped through a door to a suite of offices beyond the lobby.
Damn it! She wasn’t sure why her visit had created such a stir. This could be a good thing or attention she
An elevator delivered her to a street-level lobby, the only option, for security reasons. And once the doors had opened, she knew she’d been right about Harper being accustomed to money. The lobby décor was stunning—only the best—furnishings gilded in gold and chic fabrics, huge displays of fresh flowers, real paintings in oil, with overhead speakers subtly playing classical music in the background. The minute she stepped into the atrium, all eyes were on her—a doorman, a maid in uniform wiping down windows to the revolving front door, and an older man in a fancy suit retrieving a newspaper.
Jess cleared her throat, feeling completely out of place. She hadn’t given much thought to where she’d end up today after she’d dressed that morning. Her faded jeans and black Gold’s Gym tee were second nature to her. And the lightweight jacket she wore covered her Colt Python. But one thing Jess had learned long ago. No one made her feel second-rate unless she let it happen. She dragged fingers through her dark hair in a nearby mirror, pretending to care what the Chicago wind had done to her locks, but in actuality she was scanning the lobby for the layout and the location of the elevators used by the residents.
After a respectable time, she held her chin high and walked toward the Concierge desk, forcing a smile. A short pudgy man with red cheeks, a tan-and-gold uniform, and thinning dark hair greeted her.
“May I help you, miss?” He grinned and cocked his head, an almost robotic move. Way too perky to suit her.
“Actually, you can.” She tapped her fingernails on the counter between them, trying flirty on for size. “I’m pretty sure my younger brother lives here, but he doesn’t know I’ve come to the city. I’d love to surprise him by knocking on his door. Could you please tell me his suite number?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t give out his room number. We protect the privacy of our guests. I’m sure you understand.”
“Oh…sure. Then maybe someone could accompany me to his room? When he opens the door, you’ll see it’ll be okay with him, I promise.”
Jess knew hotel personnel might resist giving her the suite number outright, but all she needed was the room number to come back after hours. Seeing the inside of Harper’s suite might give her another lead about him and the person he might be protecting.
“And what’s your brother’s name?” the concierge asked, poised over a computer on his desk.
“Seth Harper. Like I said, he’s not expecting me.” She smiled and shrugged. “It’s a surprise.”
Yeah, a real surprise . Her plan had been to get confirmation that Harper lived here. And it looked as if the man behind the desk might just do that, but in an unexpected move, he narrowed his eyes, and said, “Excuse me. What did you say your name was?”
Harper’s name had triggered a defense mechanism in the man, and Jess had no idea why. For a second, she contemplated lying about her name, but chose not to.
“Jessica Beckett. A married name.” She mirrored the man’s concern on her face. “Is there something wrong?”
“Do you mind if I see some identification?” he said, but when she looked surprised, he added, “Like I said, we like to protect the privacy of our guests.”
“I’ve come to the right address, haven’t I? I haven’t been downtown since he moved in here.” She handed him her driver’s license. “Seth lives here, right?”
The man didn’t answer. Something in his eyes told her he knew Harper, yet there was more at play. He did imply Harper was a guest, but she couldn’t count on that as confirmation, not enough for breaking and entering.
“Excuse me.” He took her license and stepped through a door to a suite of offices beyond the lobby.
Damn it! She wasn’t sure why her visit had created such a stir. This could be a good thing or attention she
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