Just This Once (2 page)

“I have one in my office. If you like, I’ll send it up with a bellman later. You can just leave it at the front desk when you check out.”

“Boy, you really are accommodating tonight, aren’t you?”
How about a backrub?

“Just that good old Weller Regent service, second to none.”
Listen to me flirt with this woman!

“Well, I couldn’t take your umbrella. You might need it yourself. Besides, my coat has a hood.”

“No, I won’t need it. I lend it out all the time,” Paula insisted. In fact, she had lent it only once, to a pretty flight attendant who chatted with her sweetly at check-in…much like Wynne Connelly was doing.

“Well, in that case, I accept.”

“So do you travel a lot with your work?”

“A fair bit. Our headquarters is here, and it looks like I’ll be coming back and forth a lot for the next few months.”
While I still have a job
.

“Well, I’m glad that you’ve chosen to stay with us. We’ll do our best to make your stay here at Weller Regent comfortable. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to call, Ms. Connelly.” Though it sounded official and contrived, the manager made it a point to look directly into the tall woman’s eyes to convey the offer as sincere.

Wynne noticed the look, even though she recognized the standard line for what it was.

“Shall I ask for you when I call?” she teased.
Turn-down service maybe?

“If you like,” Paula smiled, slipping a business card from her pocket. Departing from her usual business tone, she continued, “Here’s my direct extension. I’ll be here tonight and tomorrow night as well.”

Wynne pocketed the card and smiled back at the manager. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the petite blonde was flirting with her.
Okay by me
. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

The computer spit out the key card. There was really no more reason to keep the woman at the desk. Paula pushed the envelope across the counter. “This is your room number.”

She circled 2308 in red. For security reasons, they never repeated the room number aloud.

“You’ll need your key in the elevator; just insert it and wait for the green light before pressing your floor. Would you like some help with your bags?”

“No, I can manage. Thank you for everything.” Wynne shouldered her briefcase and smiled gratefully at the blonde manager.
Paula McKenzie
, the nametag read.
Pretty lady
.

“You’re very welcome.”
Very
. Paula congratulated herself on her timing, quietly applauding whatever forces had come together to cause Mr. Thomason to behave like a jerk and Wynne Connelly to arrive a moment later. It was nice to have finally gotten the chance to meet the beautiful woman, and a special bonus to have the authority to dole out such a treat.

———

Wynne walked toward the elevator, rolling her suitcase behind her.
Yes indeed, I think she was flirting. I know I was
.

Moments later, she exited the elevator directly across from the private lounge. Clusters of love seats and wing back chairs held couples and small groups, all conversing softly in the dim light as they sampled the dessert offerings. It was a pleasant atmosphere and one she would try to take advantage of; provided of course that she didn’t get hit on. That was the worst part about traveling alone, and the main reason that she usually just ordered room service.

Wynne studied the key for a moment and inserted it into the slot. By all appearances, the room was like those she had stayed in before, except for the fax machine and king-sized bed. The latter was certainly a welcome change, given her five foot-ten inch frame.

Methodically, she emptied her suitcase and hung up her three crisp suits, only one of which she’d ever worn. As marketing director at Gone Tomorrow Tours, Eldon-

Markoff’s newest subsidiary in Baltimore, Wynne usually wore skirts and sweaters or sometimes pantsuits to work. But the corporate culture was more formal in Orlando, so she’d dipped into her savings to purchase eight new suits to get her through this strategic planning project.

Most likely, she’d be keeping this travel schedule through the end of April, which was not a bad time to be leaving Baltimore for sunny Florida. After that, who knows? She might have planned herself right out of a job. At least she’d have nice new clothes to wear to job interviews.

That’s what this project was all about: streamlining the marketing and sales initiatives for Eldon-Markoff. That meant crafting a plan to link the company’s worldwide travel agencies and its tours. Wynne was asked to work on the plan, along with sales director Doug Messner from the Dallas travel agency office. Heading up the task force was Cheryl Williams, Eldon-Markoff’s vice-president of sales and marketing. Cheryl was dynamo, a skilled leader whom Wynne admired for her ability to get things done.

But it was clear after only two trips — six days total — that sales and marketing would operate more efficiently if it were centralized. Now it was up to these three to draft a plan to make it happen. If they worked well, she’d probably get a good severance package.

A sharp knock on the door signaled the arrival of the bellman with the borrowed umbrella.

“Thank you,” the tall woman said, passing the young man a couple of bills.

“You’re welcome, Ms. Connelly. And Ms. McKenzie asked me to remind you about the dessert.” The young man was glad to see the smile that his message had elicited.

“Please tell her thanks, and that I will go see about dessert right now.”

Checking to make certain she had her key, Wynne followed the bellman back to the elevator, at once eyeing the dessert table in the center of the lounge.

“May I bring you something to drink?” a tuxedoed woman asked.

Wynne thought about it and passed, deciding she’d just grab one of the sweet offerings and return to her room. So many different treats…but she should only have one. So she took the lime tart with the strawberry on top. And the truffle.

Back in her room, the tall woman dropped tiredly into the wingback chair. It was almost 10 and she had a full day tomorrow. Her leg throbbed from the demands of her trip.

Fishing in her purse, she drew out a bottle of ibuprofen. Since the accident two years ago, she carried it everywhere she went, always knowing that the leg would start to ache from deep within. A hot bath would soothe the pain and help her sleep.

Flicking on the light in the marble bathroom, Wynne silently blessed Paula McKenzie for the upgrade: her tub was equipped with massaging air jets.

Chapter 2

Monday was shaping up like just another night at the Weller Regent.

Paula walked the hallways from end to end at least once a day, on all 23 floors. Mostly, she checked to ensure that fixtures were in working order, doors were not left ajar, and that room service trays were picked up in a timely manner, but she also kept an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. So far, she’d logged two burned out lights and one that flickered off and on. On the 23
rd
floor, the Concierge floor, she discovered a wallet stuffed behind a plant, likely hidden by a pickpocket who had pilfered the contents.

“Security, please,” she directed softly into the walkie-talkie.

“Security here,” a male voice crackled.

“I need a security officer in the elevator lobby of the 23
rd
floor, please.” Paula was eager to get this cleared up quickly, as the sight of a security guard in the Concierge lobby might unnerve some of the guests.

“On the way. Roger out.”

Three minutes later, the uniformed guard arrived and began to document the evidence in the event criminal charges might be filed. They usually weren’t, but management always wanted fingerprints when possible to rule out employees. It was doubtful though that an employee would have hidden the wallet in plain view of the camera in the ceiling. Too bad about the fool that ignored the warning signs that the public areas of the premises were under surveillance.

Together, she and the guard carefully opened the wallet to confirm its contents, or rather, lack of contents. But there was a driver’s license, and she immediately called downstairs to get the room number of its owner, William C. Jeffries.

“Do we have tape?” she asked the guard.

“We should. I’ll check it when I go back down.”

“Call me when you find something.”

Moments later, Paula’s knock was answered by a middle-aged man, apparently fresh from a shower in his robe and with dripping hair. The manager explained the purpose of her visit, then listened calmly as Jeffries ranted about the hotel’s lack of security, demanding reimbursement and threatening to sue for damages if the thief ran up charges on his credit cards. When she assured him that the hotel had videotape that would likely show who had hidden his wallet, the irate man suddenly turned docile.

“You know, I’m probably just making a big deal out of nothing. I can cancel all the cards with just a phone call, and as long as I have my driver’s license, the only real thing I lost was some cash. I guess that’s the price for being careless with my wallet, huh?”

When she exited the man’s room, Paula went immediately to the house phone. Some information was not suited for broadcast on a broader frequency.

“Hello, Tim? I think we’ve got another hooker working the building. If you find something on the tape, let’s get the OPD in and see if we can get an ID.”

———

Wynne glanced at the check-in counter on her way to the elevators, hoping to catch sight of a friendly face. It had been a long day — most Mondays were when Sunday was spent traveling — and she was looking forward to kicking back with a book, and to making a meal out of the hors d’oeuvres in the lounge. No such luck on the friendly face front.

Paula McKenzie was nowhere to be found.

The happy hour fare in the lounge had turned out to be a godsend. Room service was nice, but then her room would smell like dinner all night. Going out was even less attractive, especially alone; though she had politely refused several dinner invitations from Doug. Her Dallas counterpart was young and single, and enjoyed the fun he could have on an expense account. For that reason, he had opted to stay at the Hyatt, Eldon-

Markoff’s other approved hotel, calling the Weller Regent a little too uptight for his tastes. Coming from a sales background, Doug liked meeting new people and striking up conversations, thus he appreciated the atmosphere of the Hyatt’s sprawling cocktail lounge on the main floor and its lively piano bar. The quiet atmosphere of the concierge lounge was more to Wynne’s liking.

The tall brunette settled into a wingback chair in the corner by the window, her small plate loaded with grilled fish strips with lemon and capers, brie and crackers, and fruit. It wouldn’t do to eat like this often, but it was hard to avoid calories while traveling and still get enough to satisfy her hunger. Besides, if she kept up her workout on the stationary bike — which she had to do anyway to keep her left leg limber — she could probably stave off the extra pounds.

“Do you mind if I join you?” A smartly dressed businessman held a cocktail in one hand and a plate of chicken wings in the other.

“Not at all,” Wynne answered graciously. “But I have to warn you that I’m at a very exciting part of my book, so I doubt I’ll be very good company.”
I don’t plan on entertaining you, mister
.

Dejected, Bill Jeffries turned to look for another seat.

“Mr. Jeffries, may I see you a moment please?” As she entered the lounge, Paula noticed the woman in the corner and smiled. “Good evening, Ms. Connelly.”

“And to you, Ms. McKenzie.” Wynne was quite pleased to see the familiar face, even though it was clear that the night shift manager was in the lounge in her official capacity.

It was probably just wishful thinking that the woman had been flirting the night before, but it was nice to imagine it just the same. Still, it would be nice to have a friend here, especially since it looked like she’d be back at least a half dozen times or more.

After a brief conversation in the hallway, both the blonde woman and the man who had sought her company returned to the lounge. To Wynne’s delight, Paula McKenzie was headed her way, and she quickly closed her book.

“What are you reading?”

The brunette held up the front cover. “It’s Pamela Crenshaw’s latest. I picked it up at the airport yesterday afternoon.” Crenshaw had written a series of spy novels featuring a military heroine, Major Dana Grant. Each new release vaulted to the top of the bestseller list, both in hard cover and in paperback.

“Oh, I haven’t seen that one. But I’ve read the others. Crenshaw really tells a great story.”

“Yeah, but I have to admit, I think she’s sort of gone over the top with the Major. It’s kind of hard to believe a person can be perfect at everything.”

“I’m not sure what you mean. Aren’t all of your friends black belt gourmet cooks who can perform heart surgery in the dark while docking the Queen Mary?”

That sent the tall woman into a fit of laughter that delighted Paula.

“Now that you mention it, a lot of my friends are like that,” Wynne agreed jovially.

“So is everything to your liking? Your room, I mean.”

“Yes, it’s very nice. And the lounge is very nice. Thank you so much for the upgrade. I think I’ll lean on the accountant at Eldon-Markoff to let me book up here on my next trip.”

“I’m glad you’re comfortable. I suppose it’s hard to be away from home and your family so much, so I hope we can make it a little easier.” Paula was fishing, but Wynne didn’t recognize the opening to take the bait.

“You do make it easier, and I appreciate it.” She was having trouble deciding if Paula was being friendly and personable, or just performing her professional duties. Best to play it safe.

Paula would have liked nothing better than to order a drink of her own and pull up a chair. Not that she could do something like that at work anyway, but it also would have presumptuous as hell, she thought. Wynne Connelly was just being nice; she was probably one of those people who made everyone feel special just by talking to them.