All or Nothing

“You ever think about going home?”

“Not really.”

“What is it about New York that you love?”

Nothing readily came to mind. She had to think about it. “The energy. The cultural diversity. The food.”

“Now, what do you miss about Indiana?”

“My family,” she said automatically. “Clean air. Clear blue skies. Corny county fairs. And never having to worry about whether I locked my apartment door or not.” She sighed. “I miss having a car, too. What about you?”

He looked surprised. “Me? I kind of flit around, so the question isn’t as applicable.”

“You said you’ve been living between Los Angeles and Houston.”

“Right,” he said slowly. “Guess home was never what you’d call a Norman Rockwell painting. Mama’s a good woman. Not the cookie-baking type, but she ran a strict household. I still managed to give her a run for her money.”

She liked the fondness in his voice when he talked about her. “Your father?”

“You mean the sperm donor?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He thrust a hand through his hair. “That’s about the only thing I fault my mama for. She never should’ve stayed with the worthless son of a bitch.”

“I’m sorry,” Dana said quietly because she didn’t know what else to say. Still, she regretted saying that. It sounded too much like pity.

Chase muttered a curse, his rudeness taking her aback, but before she could say anything he sprinted ahead.

She stopped and stared, dumfounded, and then watched him scoop up a boy, both of them tumbling onto the grass. A second later, an out-of-control skateboarder plowed past the spot where the boy had been playing with a toy truck.

“Oh, my! Toby!” A woman carrying a baby ran toward them. “Toby.” She dropped to her knees, balancing the baby on one hip while checking the boy’s unnaturally bent arm. “Are you okay, baby?”

“I’m fine, Mom.” Toby made a disgusted face at his mother’s gentle probing. Only about four, already his male ego seemed to be intact. He straightened out his arm and shook out his hand.

The young mother breathed a sigh of relief and sent Chase a grateful look. “What do you say to the nice man, Toby?”

He broke into a big grin. “That was awesome.”

Chase grunted. “Right.”

“Really, thank you.” The mother struggled to her feet, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the skateboarding teenager who’d barely managed to avoid a tree. “That kid is going to hurt somebody.”

Chase made an attempt to get up, but sat back down again. His hand went to his ribs, and the strain in his face said it all. Dana walked over and offered him her hand. He took it, and she helped pull him to his feet.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“You really are hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Thanks, mister.” Dusting the seat of his jeans, Toby tilted his head back and grinned at Chase.

“You’re welcome. I hope your truck is okay.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “My truck.” He scampered off in search of his toy, his mother close behind him.

Dana really wanted to ask more about Chase’s injury. He probably shouldn’t be running. “Wow, faster than a speeding bullet.”

His laugh was wry. “Not exactly.”

“I didn’t even see that skateboarder. He came out of no-where. You have great reflexes.” They were close to a gazebo and she steered him in that direction. “You must have played football in school.”

“Me? A jock? I don’t think so.”

She chuckled. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“I rode in a few rodeos in my time, but sports…” He scoffed.

“Over here,” she said when he veered toward the path. “Let’s go sit for a while.”

“Why?”

“Because I can tell your side is hurting.”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

She didn’t believe him. He looked pale, but she wasn’t about to argue. “Want to just walk then?”

He led her back onto the path and resumed a brisk pace. “I want you to have dinner with me tonight.”

She looked sharply at him. “I can’t.”

“Won’t or can’t?”

“Both.”

He smiled. “Why not?”

“I don’t date clients.”

“It’s only dinner. I hate eating by myself.”

“It’s really not a good idea.”

“Why?”

Dana took a deep breath. She’d have to be out of her mind to agree, especially now that his stay here was extended. She’d broken her rule once, and the lapse in judgment had ended up breaking her heart. The jerk had turned out to be married. With three kids. Although Bradford was from Chicago, his business brought him to New York often and he’d wooed her for months before she’d given in.

He’d been romantic, sending her flowers, writing her silly charming notes, saying all the right things. They’d had dinner, gone up to his room, had sex. The next morning his wife had surprised them both. It was their tenth wedding anniversary. The look of pain and horror on the betrayed woman’s face had stayed with Dana for the past two years. So had the shame. It hadn’t mattered that she hadn’t known he was married. And that was no way near the worst of it for her since coming to New York.

“Consider it a business dinner,” Chase said, when she’d let silence stretch. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to talk you into getting back into singing professionally.”

“Not me,” she said quickly. “I have enough on my plate.”

“You never know what kind of opportunities could arise.”

Damn him. He’d piqued her curiosity. Not for herself, but for Kelly. Maybe if Dana made nice she could introduce her friend to Chase. “Where did you want to eat?”

“Name it.”

“Not at the hotel.”

“Fine. You tell me.”

She swallowed, her thoughts moving so fast she could barely think straight. She could tell herself all she wanted that she was doing this for her friend, but that was a lie. After thinking she was immune to temptation when it came to show business, he’d snagged her like a hog-tied calf at the county fair.

“FOR GOD’S SAKE, Roscoe, I’ve only been here for two days. No, I haven’t found the ring yet.” Chase held the phone away from his ear for a second and checked his reflection in the mirror. His hair was too long and his shirt collar wasn’t pressed right. It kind of curled up at the tip and touched his blazer. Too late to do anything about it. He had to meet Dana for dinner in half an hour.

“You talk to the police?” Easy to picture Roscoe’s ruddy face, shock of white hair and more eyebrows than three people put together. He’d made a lot of money pumping oil out of his forty-thousand acre spread, and he never let anyone forget it.

“Not yet.”

“What am I paying you for, boy?”

“Expertise.” If he didn’t have a hefty car payment he wouldn’t have considered taking on the private detective work. Chase checked his fly. All was well in that department. “Don’t go telling me how to investigate this case, Roscoe. You don’t want to get me riled.”

“See here, that’s the problem. It’s just a case to you. You don’t find that ring, it’s gonna be my neck on Mary Lou’s choppin’ block.”

He knew Roscoe’s wife, and the man wasn’t exaggerating. Of course that sweet young thing probably couldn’t even boil water or find the kitchen, but Chase got the man’s drift. “I don’t want to talk to the locals until I get my own feel for what’s going on. Tomorrow I’ll meet with security.” Chase went to the window, pushed aside the drapes and eyed the mounting traffic. Good thing Dana had chosen a restaurant that was only a five-minute walk from the hotel. “You know it might help if you tell me why you brought that ring here with you in the first place.”

Roscoe muttered something profane. “I already told you it ain’t relevant.”

Chase wasn’t so sure, but no use arguing. The only thing Roscoe had told him was that he’d come to New York for two days to meet with his stockbroker and find something nice for Mary Lou’s birthday. It made no sense that he had the heirloom ring with him, but he wouldn’t explain. Just acted real odd every time Chase questioned him about his trip.

“One more thing, Roscoe. You having an affair?”

“Go to hell.” Roscoe slammed the phone down hard.

Chase flipped his cell phone shut and rubbed his assaulted ear. This case was beginning to stink worse than a pigsty. Roscoe didn’t want anyone else to know about the theft, not Mary Lou, not even his insurance company. Yes, the police here in Manhattan had been given a statement, and Roscoe had painstakingly compiled a pretty good list of potential suspects for Chase to look into.

Roscoe wasn’t exactly the detailed type, yet he’d included the names of every room-service waiter who had been on duty, every maid, every bellman. Because she’d had a client staying at the St. Martine the day Roscoe had arrived, even Dana’s name had made the list. The guy had done some heavyduty homework. Made Chase suspicious. If that son of a gun knew who took the ring and wasn’t fessing up, he’d have more to worry about than a chopping block.

Although Chase shouldn’t complain. He was getting paid well, by the day, plus expenses, so if it meant that the less Roscoe told him the longer it took to find the ring, that wasn’t such a bad thing. Except, there were two problems with that. One, Chase had known Roscoe for twenty years and the guy normally couldn’t keep his mouth shut about anything. Now all of a sudden you needed a crowbar to get him to open up.

Second, as nice as it was shacking up in a fancy hotel and having play dates with a beautiful woman, Chase had to get back to Dallas by the end of the week to meet with IAD again. His gaze automatically went to the screen on his cell phone. Buddy hadn’t called back yet. They’d traded three calls since yesterday afternoon. It was probably nothing or his ex-partner would’ve been more persistent.

His thoughts returned to Roscoe. If nothing turned up tomorrow after he talked to security and the police, Chase would have to lean harder on the old man. The thing Chase hated most was surprises.

He took a final look in the mirror and tried to flatten the bent collar. But damn if Dana McGuire wasn’t turning out to be quite a pleasant one.

If she was innocent, man, he was gonna feel like crap for lying to her.

4

“ARE YOU wearing perfume?” Holding a spoon and an open pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, Lynn, Dana’s roommate, poked her dark head into the bathroom and sniffed the air. “You have a date?”

Dana glared at her. “I just bought that.”

“Yeah? Thanks.”

Dana growled with disgust. She knew better. She absolutely knew better. What a dope. “You’d better leave me some.”

“Sure.” Lynn dipped the spoon into the carton. “Who’s the guy?”

“Can you please use a bowl?”

“Then I’d have to wash it.”

Dana shook her head. Yeah, right. The woman didn’t even know where they kept the dish detergent. Man, twenty-seven was too old to have to suffer a roommate. Yet, if you lived in Manhattan there wasn’t a choice. Not for her on the amount of money she made, which on the whole wouldn’t have been too bad if she hadn’t been saving like crazy for her new business venture. Until last month there were three of them sharing the two-bedroom flat and they were going to have to find someone to replace Lisa pretty soon in order to afford the ridiculous rent.

Maybe Kelly had the right idea. Returning to the midwest had major pluses. Rent was relatively cheap, even if Dana chose to go to one of the larger cities. She’d have a car again, a dog and cat, maybe even a date once in a while. But the downside was huge—the humiliation of admitting that she simply hadn’t been able to cut it in the real world.

The true irony was that she hadn’t been the one so hot to leave the small farming community where she’d known every last kid in the small grade school, and at fourteen, shared her very first kiss with Bobby Miller, the captain of the football team. Her mother, her teachers, her high-school guidance counselor, even Maude Maubry, the town’s librarian, had urged Dana to set her sights on bigger things.

She checked to make sure she hadn’t gotten any lip gloss on her teeth, ran a brush through her hair one last time and then exited the tiny ancient bathroom that desperately needed some repairs to the rusty pipes and loose tiles.

Lynn backed down the short hallway. “Since you won’t be home tonight, can I borrow your—?”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

Dana edged past her, noting wryly that the ice cream was almost gone. “Have you ever returned anything you’ve borrowed from me?”

Lynn frowned. “I think so.”

“Think again.” Dana grabbed the small black purse she’d hung off her bedroom doorknob. Weird even to carry a purse. Normally she stuck keys, money and her cell phone in her jeans pocket, or in a fanny pack if she wore only Spandex running shorts.

“You coming home tonight?”

“Yes.” She noticed the disappointment in Lynn’s black-outlined eyes. “So do not touch my stuff.”

Dana left the apartment without another word, recalling a time when she would never have spoken to another human being like that. Good old Dana would have given anyone the shirt off her back. All they needed to do was ask. In fact, they didn’t have to say a word. She’d volunteer. Even if it were minus ten degrees outside and she had nothing else to wear.

She’d been the consummate good girl. Church-going. God-fearing. Perfect manners. Valedictorian of her class. Blessed with both looks and modest talent. The role model for every girl in town. Much to her chagrin, she’d been the one all the other parents compared their kids to. Her biggest fault had been her deep-seated foolish desire to please everyone. Her biggest secret was that she was basically shy.

With the possible exception of her father, no one had seemed to see that side of her. She’d just smiled a lot and allowed everyone their assumptions. Being on stage had been remarkably easy because she felt as if she was someone else entirely, and that’s where she’d fooled everyone. She’d almost fooled herself. She’d started to believe the hype that she was special and needed to spread her wings.

The truth was, she hadn’t changed much. Below the cool surface she was still that shy girl from Smallville, Indiana, population fifteen hundred and thirty-six, only after Marilyn Wilson had had triplets last year. If Dana were brave enough to dig deep, she’d probably find that she didn’t belong in a place like New York. But the longer she stayed the harder it was to go home. Instead, she mailed her letter every other week, phoning her parents on alternate weeks, keeping the calls short, never disabusing them of the idea that long distance still cost an arm and a leg.

At the corner she hailed a cab, not wanting to pit out by walking in the sticky humid weather. She hated that she’d put herself in this funk. It was stupid. By now everyone back home knew she hadn’t made it big, after all. Just because she hadn’t uttered the words didn’t mean reality hadn’t roosted. She wasn’t responsible for their disappointment. She had her own to deal with.

No, no, she’d put all that angst to rest. She wouldn’t even be thinking about any of it if it weren’t for Chase Culver. He’d stirred up the pot. Still, she knew better than to resurrect hope.

A cab stopped for her and she slid inside, giving the cabbie the restaurant’s address. She squared her shoulders. This was going to be a good test of her resolve. See if she’d really made the peace she thought she had. And yet who knew, maybe he just might have something worthwhile to offer.

CHASE ARRIVED a few minutes early and convinced the hostess to give him a nice quiet table in the corner of the restaurant, from where he had a clear view of the entrance. The place was simple, wooden chairs and tables set with laminated placemats listing New York trivia questions instead of tablecloths. On the walls were pictures of different parts of Manhattan, circa mid-nineteen hundreds. The only nod to formality was the crisp red linen napkins.

When the waitress came by he ordered a beer while he waited for Dana. He had no idea where she lived and with the crazy traffic out there, there was no telling when she’d make it. But the waitress had no sooner left the table than he saw Dana walk in. His breathing literally faltered.

With her hair down, bouncing around her shoulders, it looked much blonder than when it was pulled back in a ponytail. And the dress…breathtaking. Simple, black and sleeveless, hugging her every curve, it nearly made his heart stop altogether. The hem ended about five inches above her knees, and he didn’t know how it was possible, but her legs looked even better than when she wore running shorts.

Every man in the joint, from eighteen to eighty, turned to watch her walk past their tables. Not that he wasn’t a gentleman, though he wasn’t the type to get up and pull out a woman’s chair in a circumstance like this, but he was on his feet before he knew it and had her chair out and waiting before she got to him.

“Thank you,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He felt as if he was in eleventh grade again. Every guy in school dreamed about taking Rebecca Weaver to the homecoming dance. Including him. Naturally she went with the captain of the football team. But she’d saved a dance for Chase, whispered something sweet in his ear and kissed him on the lips. He thought he’d won the lottery. Holding on to that night had gotten him through many a dry spell, when all he had to warm him was rosy palm and her five sisters, but that night at the dance didn’t hold a candle to this very moment.

The creamy vanilla fragrance drifting up from her hair held him rooted for a second too long and as soon as he realized he was hovering, he released her chair and reclaimed his own.

Their eyes met, and she smiled shyly.

“You look stunning,” he said.

“Thank you,” she murmured, the pink returning to her cheeks. She actually seemed uncomfortable with the compliment. It wasn’t an act. She couldn’t be that good. Could she? “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He smiled. “No comparison.”

She made a face. “Stop it.”

“Okay.” He put up his hands, and noticed the waitress returning with his beer. “Sorry I didn’t wait, but I ordered a drink. I wasn’t sure when you’d get here. What would you like?”

The waitress arrived, set down his glass and while she poured the beer, smiled at Dana. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have the same,” she said, surprising him.

“I thought you were more the wine type,” he said when the waitress had left.

“Funny, I was thinking the same about you.”

“Me? A good ole boy from Texas. Bite your tongue.” He pushed the bottle and glass toward her, belatedly remembering that as a big-shot producer he probably should’ve ordered wine. “Be my guest. I can wait.”

“Tell you what…” She topped off the foaming glass and then handed it to him. “We’ll split it.” And then she tipped the bottle to her lips.

Chase grinned. This was his kind of woman. “I would’ve taken the bottle.”

She smiled back. “Beat you to it.”

Moisture clung to her pale pink lips, making them glisten. Or maybe she’d done something to them. Used some tinted gloss maybe, but nothing much. Altering perfection would be a crime. He’d have to arrest her. Take her back to his room in handcuffs. Secure her to the bedposts to make sure she didn’t get away.

His slacks suddenly got uncomfortably snug and he shifted positions. Damn, he had to stay on track. Too easy to forget why he’d asked her to dinner. He took a cool sip and leaned back. “Tell me about this friend of yours. The one who wants to pack it in and go home.”

She looked startled, and then shrugged a slim shoulder. “Kelly’s amazingly talented. She dances, sings, acts.”

He knew that name. She was a hotel employee. The assistant concierge, maybe? He kept an impassive face, mentally filing away the name. “Has she worked on Broadway?”

“She’s had a few roles. Mostly small ones, but one of the plays she did lasted for nearly a year. It’s just not easy getting cast. I don’t have to tell you that it’s a cutthroat business.”

“Yep, a lot of money at stake.”

She tilted her head to the side and studied him in a way that made him nervous. Like she was going to ask him a question he didn’t know how to answer. “What made you decide to get involved in show business?”

“Good question.” He frowned thoughtfully, pretending to give the matter serious consideration. “I’m afraid I don’t have a very noble answer.”

“Fame and money is a given.”

“This industry is fickle. Profit isn’t a guarantee. It could cost you big-time.”

“True.”

The waitress returned with Dana’s beer and asked to take their orders. But neither of them had looked at the menu yet. As soon as the woman left to check on another table, Chase picked up his menu hoping Dana would forget the nature of their conversation.

“Come on. Now I’m curious.”

He stupidly hadn’t anticipated the question, but he’d learned doing undercover work that sticking as close to the truth as possible reduced your risk of exposure. “I was bored.”

“Ah. The curse of the idle rich.”

“Now, now, darlin’. You know boredom isn’t only a rich man’s affliction.”

“Okay, you’re right.” Her lips curved in a cheeky smile. “They just get to be bored without worrying about paying the mortgage.”

“Touché.”

“At least you’re honest,” she said, picking up her menu.

He flinched and quickly directed his attention to the list of entrées. Maybe dinner hadn’t been such a good idea. No, this was a good opportunity. As long as he retained control of the conversation.

Nothing on the menu was too pricey, particularly by Manhattan standards. He liked that she’d chosen this place even though she thought he had deep pockets. “Any recommendations?”

“Everything is good.” She closed her menu and set it aside.

“What are you having?”

“Blackened chicken salad.”

Should’ve known she was one of those salad kind of gals, low-fat dressing on the side, no doubt. Why it disappointed him he couldn’t say. Him, he was a having a great big porterhouse steak.

As soon as he closed his menu the waitress appeared again and took their order. He asked for another beer, but Dana declined. A smarter man would’ve followed her lead. He had to meet her at ten tomorrow and run another five miles. Although, if he got enough information tonight, there really would be no reason to see her.

Their eyes met, hers so beautiful his groin stirred. Who was he kidding? No way he’d pass up a chance to see her again. He smiled and went for his beer.

“How’s your side?”

“Better.”

“How did you say you hurt it?”

“A man can humble himself only so much in one night.”

She smiled. “Must be a pretty juicy story.”

He wouldn’t call it that. But he couldn’t very well admit he’d been part of an undercover sting that had gone bad. One that might have shot his career to hell and back.

Focus. He couldn’t start replaying that old tape. Might as well call it a night if his mind had started going to that bad neighborhood. “Let’s get back to your friend. She has a résumé and portfolio, I presume.”

At his abruptness, Dana blinked. “Sure.”

“Okay.” He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “After my meeting tomorrow I’ll know more about how close I am to sealing this deal.”

“Great.” Dana seemed nervous suddenly, her hand trembling slightly as she picked up her bottle of beer. “If it works out for you and you’d like to talk to my friend, I could arrange for the two of you to meet.”

“You sound more like her agent.”

She smiled. “She’s had a tough go of it lately, and I hate to see her give up.”

A loud group of six sat at the table next to them, the three guys arguing over yesterday’s Mets’ game and sounding as if they’d already been partying half the afternoon.

Chase leaned across the table toward Dana. Her lips were really something, full and pouty, but natural-looking. “What about you?”