Minutes to Kill (Scarlet Falls #2)(3)

Hannah turned. Herb Fletcher, CEO of Fletcher Properties, grinned over a glass of whiskey. Despite his unassuming attire, or maybe because of it, the sixty-year-old pulled off gray hair and blue eyes with Paul Newman appeal. “Staying for the samba competition, Tim?”

“No, I’m sorry. I was just leaving,” Timothy said. “Perhaps we’ll see each other on another deal.”

“I’m sure we will.” Herb sipped his drink. His eyes went cold. He knew exactly where he stood with the British investor: good enough for his money but not his social circle.

Timothy turned to Hannah. “Royce said you’re going to London next?”

“After a short vacation, yes,” she said. Though her firm was based in New York City, Hannah spent very little time there. She traveled from one deal to another in a seemingly endless tour of international cities. After she was made a full-equity partner, her salary would justify the expense of a Manhattan apartment. “I expect to be there for three to four weeks.”

Timothy nodded. “I have another deal under consideration. E-mail me when you get in so we can discuss it.”

“I’ll do that,” Hannah said. She scanned the room. The crowd was starting to thin.

“It was a pleasure working with you.” Timothy held out a hand.

She shook it. “Thank you. Likewise.”

With a bow, he headed for the door, stopping to say good-bye to a few other guests on the way out.

“Tim made a quick exit.” Wickedness glinted in Herb’s clear blue eyes. “Why were you wasting your time with him when you could have any man in this room?”

Hannah wasn’t going anywhere near that loaded question. They were both her clients. “The party is fabulous, Herb, and your club is spectacular.”

“You should enjoy some of it.” He leaned in and dropped his voice. “I’ve been watching you. Any of these men would run to you at the snap of your fingers, but here you are, all alone.”

Herb didn’t spend much time alone. He usually had one of his very young dancers hanging off his arm. But then alpha males didn’t play by the same rules as the rest of humanity. They’d followed their own code since they’d emerged from their caves. Sometimes it seemed like that happened yesterday. Raised with three brothers by the Colonel, Hannah knew all about dominant men. Though when compared to the men in her family, Herb’s moral bar hung much lower.

“I don’t like to mix business with pleasure,” Hannah said.

“That’s no fun, because I suspect you work most of the time. You’re young. You need to enjoy life.” His hand swept through the air. “Look at all those people down there, blowing off steam.”

“They do appear to be having a good time.” The wistfulness in her tone embarrassed her.

“Other people like to have fun. You should try it sometime.” He lifted a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waitress and handed the glass to her. As the girl passed, Herb gave her butt a quick squeeze. She shot him a flirty smile over her shoulder. “You should drink a bottle of champagne and samba all night.”

Herb had never acted inappropriately with Hannah, and she couldn’t help but appreciate his brass and style. At the same time, the way he treated his female employees made her uncomfortable. Hannah twirled her glass by the stem without drinking, exhaustion sliding over her body in a sudden wave. The whole obligatory corporate party thing felt old. Hannah could never let down her guard for fear that someone like Herb would get the wrong idea. Being a successful woman required above-reproach behavior 24/7.

He raised a laughing brow over his tumbler. “You seem distracted tonight.”

Hannah checked her watch. “I have a red-eye to catch.”

“More work?” Herb frowned. “Already? Surely, even you will take a few days off after a project of this duration.”

“No work. Vacation. I’m going home to see my family.” She didn’t mention that her vacation would include checking in with the prosecutor who was preparing for the murder trial of her brother and sister-in-law’s killer. Lee and Kate had been dead for eight months. Some days she forgot they were gone. She wondered if her brothers had those moments, when work was humming along and they suddenly remembered. Guilt weighted her shoulders. How could she forget, even for a second, that Lee was dead? Grief clutched her heart, its sharp nails digging in with determination.

How appropriate that this deal had been concluded in Vegas. Under the bright lights, revelry, and glitter, a thick layer of darkness spread, like the sadness that lurked under her success. Would making equity partner make her happy? Because since Lee’s death, all her professional successes felt hollow in a way she couldn’t explain. Her brother was gone, and his absence was a wound that would never heal. There was a giant hole inside her, and trying to fill it was like pouring sand through a sieve.

“Hannah?” Herb’s brow wrinkled. “Are you OK?”

She smoothed her expression, but her smile felt empty, too. “I’m fine.”

“Great party, Herb.” Her boss, Royce Black, one of the three founding cousins of Black Associates, appeared at her side.

“Thanks, Royce. They all worked hard and deserve some playtime.” Herb waved a hand over a group of sloppy drunks heading for the door to the main floor. His hand stopped, the fingers pointing at Hannah. “Even your hardest-working staff.”