Chapter Seven
Jack slipped out of his hotel room and into the hallway, the device Finn had provided them in his pocket as he strolled down the hall. Meghan—his little friend at the front desk—had informed him when they’d returned to the hotel that Claire Davenport was staying in a room two floors below his. Now he just needed some way to draw Claire out of her room so that he could pop in and attach the device to her laptop . . .
He nodded in greeting to a member of the housekeeping staff as he passed her in the hall, grinning to himself when he remembered Maddie in her too-tight uniform shirt and short shorts. The woman looked stunning no matter what she wore—and in nothing at all.
That happy thought made him groan before he could check it.
Stay on task, Jack.
He forced his mind back to the matter at hand and away from a favorite memory of Maddie—naked in his bed, the sheets pooled around her waist as she lay sleeping on her stomach, her dark curls a tangle around her shoulders.
At that moment, a door at the end of the hallway opened up and Manny emerged, pushing a cart with serving trays. The man smiled at Jack and raised a hand in greeting.
Jack jerked his head at the cart as they came to a halt in front of the elevators. “Anything good on the menu?”
Manny shrugged. “A whole lotta fancy shit that only rich people eat.” He sent a glance Jack’s way. “No offense.”
Jack chuckled. “None taken. But I’m curious—does your key get you into every room? What happens if you arrive with all this food and no one’s in the room to accept it?”
“Oh, yeah,” Manny assured him, patting the pocket of his jacket. “We can just drop it off. No problem. You need somethin’?”
“Perhaps later,” Jack told him. “I was thinking strawberries and champagne. Or is that too cliché?”
Manny grinned, nodding in appreciation. “You got a bae coming up later—that it?”
Jack wasn’t quite sure what to say . . .
Because what the hell is abae?
Fortunately, the elevator arrived at that moment, saving Jack from admitting that even though he was still hanging on to his thirties—barely—he was tragically unhip. He started to step into the elevator as the doors slid open, but halted, instead motioning for Manny to enter the elevator first. When the wheel on Manny’s cart caught on the track, Jack leaned over and grabbed the cart handle. “Here, allow me.”
Guiding the cart with one hand, he slipped the other into Manny’s jacket pocket, grabbing the key card and stowing it in the pocket of his own slacks without Manny’s noticing. Never let it be said that he didn’t learn a thing or two during his days running the streets of London with the sort of people who would scandalize his parents.
They chatted about nothing in particular on the short trip to the first floor; then Jack sent a departing nod Manny’s way before striding toward where Meghan stood behind the front desk, her pretty smile currently bestowed upon an elderly gentleman. But when she saw him, she quickly wrapped up the transaction, then beamed at Jack.
“Well?” she asked, her excitement impossible to contain. “What’s next?”
He hushed her good-naturedly and leaned his forearms upon the counter. “I need a distraction. Do you think you could manage it?”
Her eyes widened briefly with excitement. “What kind of distraction?”
He reached across the counter to take a notepad near her computer and scrawled a quick note before tearing the paper off the pad and folding it in half. He slid the note across the counter to Meghan. “In five minutes, please call Ms. Davenport’s room and let her know that a gentleman left her a note at the front desk.”
Her expression sank a little. “That’s all?”
“Actually, no,” he said. “There is one other thing you can do for me . . .”
Five minutes later, on the nose, Jack saw Claire leave her hotel room in a hurry. As soon as she was out of sight, he strode to her door and used Manny’s key to slip inside. He took in the details of the room at a glance. It was considerably smaller than his and Maddie’s rooms, so there were only so many places one could stash a laptop. He finally located it on the floor of the closet, inside a backpack.
Jack snatched the laptop out of its hiding place and flipped it upside down onto the bed. He grabbed a brown leather pouch from his pocket and hastily removed a tiny screwdriver to open the case. A moment later, the device was installed. He put the laptop back into its hiding place and darted back into the hallway, shutting the door quietly behind him.
And not a moment too soon, it turned out.
He’d taken only a few steps away from Claire’s door when the woman came around the corner, her steps swift in spite of the height of her espadrille wedges. Her honey-blond hair was pinned up in a messy twist that allowed random locks to spill out around her face and shoulders. Her well-worn jeans and mint green T-shirt hugged her curves perfectly, a loosely knitted summer scarf draped decoratively around her neck to add a bohemian nonchalance that belied the intensity of her expression.
Jack gave her a casual smile when he met her crystalline blue gaze and nodded in greeting as he passed. He felt rather than saw her do a double take, but kept going, not wanting her to recognize him until the moment was right.
“Excuse me,” Claire called. “Do I know you?”
