Mac lifted a questioning brow in Joe’s direction. Begging for more information.
“What can I say?” Joe muttered in obvious frustration as he raked a hand through his tousled light brown hair. “She’s ticked off because I won’t appear on her show.”
“So she’s looking for a scandal to try to force you into it?” Emma speculated, unable to completely mask her unhappiness. Why wouldn’t the CSN sports show host leave them alone?
“She’s still over at the hospital, chatting it up with people as we speak,” Cal said.
Joe looked at Cal. “You want me to have a word with her?” Joe asked finally. “Try to get her to stop bothering the staff?”
Cal shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “It’s a public hospital. As long as she isn’t getting in the way of any work that needs to be done—and she isn’t—there’s no reason for her not to be there if she wants.”
Mac continued to look thoughtful. “Could she have a connection to the thieves?” Mac asked Joe. “Have you ever known Tiffany Lamour to be involved in anything illegal?”
Joe furrowed his brow. “She’s underhanded, devious, spoiled, used to getting her own way and capable of some pretty vindictive behavior. But being involved with a couple of common burglars who’ve been stealing golf clubs? That just doesn’t sound like her.”
Mac scowled, obviously disappointed. He filched a deviled ham sandwich off the tray, then stood. “Well, I think I’ll mosey on over to the hospital and strike up a conversation with her, anyway. See what I can find out—when I turn on the charm.” Mac looked at Cal. “Think you can handle an introduction for me?”
Cal smirked and slapped the eldest Hart brother on the back. “Be glad to help you get that woman off our hands.”
“In the meantime,” Mac warned Joe before he took his leave, “if you do think of something or someone else be sure and give me a call right away. The less time that elapses from the time of the theft until we know where to look, the better our chances of retrieving your stuff. I know how much the memorabilia Dad left you means to you.”
THE PROBLEM WAS, SO DID EMMA. And she couldn’t stop thinking about it, even after Joe finished helping her with the last-minute reception details and went over to the printers’ to pick up the menu cards and wedding programs.
It didn’t make sense for anyone in the pro hockey world to steal Joe’s stuff. They could buy their own memorabilia, if they wanted. Tiffany Lamour had reason to want to upset Joe—at least in her own mind—but Emma had to agree that Tiffany probably couldn’t have pulled it off in such a short period of time. Nor did Emma think Tiffany would have known how to contact the golf club burglars. The memorabilia had been stored at the Wedding Inn, but Emma couldn’t imagine any of Helen’s wait or cook staff being disloyal enough to orchestrate a theft from Joe’s place. It was possible, of course, that someone who had come into the Inn to arrange a wedding might have happened upon the memorabilia and decided then and there to steal it. But it had been kept in the storeroom off Helen’s private office, and aside from Gigi Snow, her daughter Michelle and fiancé Benjamin Posen, Emma couldn’t think of anyone outside the employees who had even seen it. Or known it was there.
Neither Gigi nor Michelle had any interest in hockey. That had been demonstrated the first time they had seen the photos of Joe Hart in Helen’s office at the Inn. Benjamin, on the other hand, knew a fair amount about the sport. As membership sales-marketing director at the Holly Springs Country Club, he had complimentary tickets to all local sporting events and often attended with people he was trying to entice to join the relatively new, prestigious and very expensive country club.
So Benjamin Posen probably knew the value of Joe’s stuff.
Just as he knew the value of titanium golf clubs, and even who owned them. He also knew when the owners were out of town on business or off on non-golf-related vacations, their houses unwatched.
And, thanks to Gigi Snow’s demands, Benjamin needed money. Desperately.
Was it possible that Benjamin Posen was the brains behind the theft ring? Emma wondered nervously. Mac had said someone was tipping the burglars off, directing them. That the theft of the Holly Springs Country Club pro shop was likely an inside job. Maybe the fact the burglaries had stepped up and become more daring in nature as the time drew closer to Benjamin’s wedding was no accident.
Michelle had said Benjamin’s credit cards were refused at dinner the previous evening, he had disappeared in the middle of last night and would not let her into the trunk of his car this morning.
Emma could call Mac, of course, and he would no doubt bring Benjamin in for questioning. But if Emma was wrong and Benjamin had nothing to do with any of this, she’d be putting him through a horrible ordeal on the eve of what was already a very stressful wedding weekend.
Emma couldn’t do that. Not without some proof that she was correct. The question was, how was she going to get it?
“LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT,” Hannah Reid, owner of Classic Car Auto Repair, said several hours later. Finished wiping her hands, she stuck a grease-stained rag in the back pocket of her coveralls. “You want me to go over to the Inn parking lot and lift the hood of your car and pretend there is something wrong with it and it won’t start, even though it actually will, and you want me to do this at precisely 4:00 p.m.?”
Emma nodded, wondering if Hannah knew she had a streak of grease on her nose. “Although maybe you should make it three-forty-five?” Benjamin Posen had a tendency to be a little early at times.
“Sure thing.” Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the lobby windows, Hannah reached for a tissue and rubbed it across the bridge of her nose. “You want to tell me why I would be doing all this?” Hannah asked, checking to make sure she had indeed gotten all the black off her fair skin.
Aware she was about to undertake some rather risky—if nobly motivated behavior—Emma blushed self-consciously. The less her friend knew, the better. “I’d rather you wouldn’t ask.”
Hannah raised an inquisitive auburn brow. “Naturally.”
“Suffice it to say,” Emma continued seriously, attempting to avoid crossing what was a very thin line between well-meant and unethical behavior, “you would be helping me out immensely.”
“Of course.” Hannah paused, narrowing her pretty green eyes at Emma. “You do know you’re losing it?”
Emma uttered a heartfelt sigh, lamenting, “I’ve felt that way all week.”
Hannah smiled, romantic speculation gleaming in her eyes. “Before or after you renewed your wedding vows with Joe Hart?”
Good question. And one Emma didn’t have the least trouble answering. “From the first moment I laid eyes on him again, my life has not been the same.” And she sensed it never would be again.
“Hmm.” Hannah picked up her wrench and returned to the Jaguar she had been working on. “We should all be so lucky.”
“So you’ll do it for me?” Emma leaned over the engine with Hannah. “I’ll pay you for your time, I promise.”
“Sure. Why not? I’m always game for a little intrigue.” Hannah studied Emma, serious now. “And I’m sure you have your reasons.”
“Thanks,” Emma said, struggling to keep a lid on her soaring emotions, “I do.”
When she returned to the Inn, she found Joe’s mother in one of the dining rooms supervising napkin folding for the big event. Emma motioned her away from the teenage workers, who did many of the menial but very necessary tasks at the Inn. As soon as the two women were out of earshot, Emma said, “Just so you know, I’m planning to conjure up a little wedding snafu for Michelle and Benjamin, then I’m going to ask Ben for a favor and hope that his helping me out ensures that he and Michelle spend at least thirty minutes alone together this afternoon.” If all went according to plan, even if the two lovebirds had another spat, Ben wouldn’t be able to leave the Inn until Emma completed her sleuthing…and hopefully, vindicated him. “So please, if you happen to come along while this is going
on do not under any circumstances volunteer to help,” Emma finished seriously.
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Helen said dryly. She studied Emma thoughtfully, having worked with her on enough nuptials to trust her methods, however unorthodox they sometimes might be. “Is this part of your plan to get the romance back in their relationship before the rehearsal dinner tomorrow evening?” Helen asked, looking as relaxed as Emma wished she could be.
Emma nodded. She wanted Benjamin Posen to be innocent of wrongdoing more than anyone could ever know. The problem was, her gut was telling her it just wasn’t so.
“THANKS FOR ARRANGING THIS private tea,” Michelle Snow said. Looking pretty and pulled together in a floral sundress, all evidence of her earlier crying jag hidden with skillful application of makeup and probably a number of cold compresses, Michelle smiled at Emma hopefully. “I think it’s just what Benjamin and I need.”
Emma escorted Michelle across the marble-floored foyer. “Why don’t you go up to the second-floor balcony and wait for Benjamin there? I’ll watch for him and send him up as soon as he arrives.”
Michelle smiled and glided off, looking more relaxed than she had all week. Which, of course, only made Emma feel all the guiltier.
No sooner had Michelle glided up the sweeping staircase to the second floor, than Emma heard footsteps on the floor behind her. She turned, saw Joe heading straight for her. “Hey, got a minute?” he said.
Emma wished. Her heart skipped a beat as she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Actually, no.”
“You don’t look busy,” Joe said, eyeing Emma with a depth of male speculation Emma found very disturbing.
She swallowed hard around the growing knot of emotion in her throat. Her undercover plan had not included having to lie or misrepresent events to her husband. But here she was… “Well, I am. Busy,” she said, a bit too abruptly.
His gaze raked the length of her, before returning to her face. “Doing?”
Emma moved away from him restlessly. Folding her arms in front of her, she glanced out the narrow window-panes on either side of the imposing front door. “I’m waiting for someone.”
Joe’s brow furrowed. “I can wait with you,” he told her smoothly.
Emma turned and forced an officious smile. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” she said cheerfully.
He studied her, able to tell as always when something was not quite as it should be. “Did I miss something?” he demanded curiously. Giving her no chance to answer, he took her by the wrist and tugged her gently but inexorably across the lobby, past the staircase. “’Cause I don’t remember us having a fight,” he drawled in the deep southern accent that stirred her senses. “All I remember,” he murmured as he pushed her into an alcove beneath the stairs, blocking the softness of her body with the steel of his, “is the two of us having a nice lunch and making wild passionate love all night.”
Emma recalled that, too. So well, she wanted to do it all again. Unfortunately, she couldn’t afford to get sidetracked here if she wanted to be able to fully implement her plan to help him recover his treasure. Doing her best to keep a level head, Emma planted a hand against his chest, holding him at bay. “Joe—”
“What?” He looked around behind him and, seeing no one else, wrapped his arms around her and brought her closer yet, so their bodies were touching in one long electrified line. Smiling the way he did when he intended to kiss her, he lowered his lips slowly to hers.
Knowing she would be lost if she experienced the sexy male taste unique to him, Emma jerked in a breath and turned her head to the side. “I can’t kiss you here.”
She could feel the frustration simmering in his much larger frame. “So let’s go home, then,” Joe murmured in obvious frustration. “And kiss there.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and turned her face back to his.
As Emma gazed up at the handsome lines of his face, she was trembling, too, albeit for an entirely different reason. “I can’t,” she whispered back, wishing she didn’t have to withhold anything from him, but knowing for the moment there was no other way. Because if Joe knew what she was about to do…well, she couldn’t really see a straight shooter like him agreeing to it. And she wasn’t going to let anyone ruin her plans when she had gone to so much trouble to arrange it.
He lifted his head, still not understanding, and clearly wanting to. “Because you have to work?” he ascertained softly.
Pulse pounding, Emma looked past his broad shoulders and saw with relief that there was still no sign of Benjamin Posen—or Hannah Reid—coming into the lobby. “Yes. I still have things to do here,” Emma said firmly, telling herself her deliberate deception would all be worth it in the end.
Joe sighed and, abruptly giving up on trying to steal a kiss from her, stepped back. “Not tonight, though,” he said firmly.
“What do you mean?” Emma shot back mutinously. Was he trying to tell her she couldn’t work late if she wanted to or needed to?
Joe folded his arms in front of him. “We have somewhere to go,” he told her matter-of-factly.
Emma couldn’t imagine where. Still holding his eyes and wishing she didn’t want to kiss him and make love to him again quite so much, she stated plainly, “I didn’t accept any social invitations.” Not during such a hectic work week.
“I did.” Joe smiled, confident and take charge as ever. “Your parents want us to have dinner with them at seven-thirty.” He looked her straight in the eye. “And I said we would.”
Chapter Eleven
“You can’t be serious,” Emma said as she sidestepped past Joe and led the way back into the center of the foyer, making sure they were in full view of anyone who might be coming and going…and vice versa.
“Dead serious, as it happens.” Joe rested his forearm on the end of the balustrade. His hot gaze skimmed her upturned face as he revealed in a low, matter-of-fact tone, “I got the invitation from Coach Lantz half an hour ago.”
Emma pursed her lips together mutinously. “Why would he ask you?”
Joe shrugged, seeing nothing out of the ordinary by the way the request was handed down. “Coach was just conveying the message from your father, who just happens to be the owner of the team I now play for.”
As if Emma had to be reminded of that!
Joe continued resolutely, closing the distance between them to mere inches yet again. “Saul and Margaret want to see me—and my new wife—at their estate at seven-thirty this evening for dinner. Because I am now an employee under contract with the Storm, the option of saying no does not exist.”
Emma scoffed, beyond irritated at being summoned for a command performance this way. Parents or no. “Maybe not for you,” she sassed back.
“Or you, either, Emma.” The last of his patience disappeared from his eyes and a remoteness she hadn’t heard before crept into his tone as he laced a possessive arm around her waist. “If I have to go, you have to go. That’s what being my wife means.”
Didn’t this sound like fun. “Fine,” Emma said, aware she didn’t have time to argue. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Benjamin Posen’s car driving past one of the windows, toward the parking spaces at the side of the Inn. Splaying her hands across his chest, she pushed him away. “In the meantime, your mother needs you.”
Joe blinked as if he couldn’t possibly have heard her correctly. “What?”
“She said it was something important,” Emma fibbed, desperate not to let her chance to investigate Benjamin Posen go by. “She’s in the ballroom on the second floor.” When Joe didn’t move, she shooed him away with both hands. “I’m serious. Go!”
Joe stepped back, gave her another long, perplexed look, then took off. But not before muttering, “We’re not finished here, Emma.”
How well she knew that.
Thanks to her odd behavior, Joe was now full of questions and probably would not rest until she answered every one. But telling herself she would deal with that later—much later—Emma turned her mind to the bu
siness at hand and walked briskly out to the parking lot. She paused to say something to Hannah, who was bent over the engine of her car, as requested. “Just shake your head and tell me it looks bad,” Emma urged as she closed in.
“Awful,” Hannah said as Benjamin Posen walked by, giving Emma a nod and a little wave.
“Just keep it up a while longer,” Emma whispered. She hurried after Benjamin. “Ben! Wait up! I’m in a bind and I need a favor.”
He turned toward her. Like Michelle, Ben looked as if he hadn’t been sleeping much lately. The only difference was he couldn’t hide the dark circles beneath his eyes with skillful application of makeup, like his bride-to-be had.
Wondering if he was as unhappy as Michelle was, Emma continued with a businesslike update of wedding preparations. “The tailor called. The tuxes for you and all your groomsmen are ready to be picked up.”
Benjamin frowned and looked even more harried. “Did you need me to do that?” He didn’t look as if he felt he had the time.
“No,” Emma quickly reassured him. “I’m going to go and get them and bring them back to the Inn so they will be here for you on Saturday, but I’ve got a problem with my car.” Emma pointed toward Hannah, who was still bent over the engine, fiddling. “It won’t start, and I was wondering—” she paused, aware of the enormity of the favor from someone she didn’t know all that well “—would it be possible for me to borrow your sedan, just for the next fifteen or twenty minutes? I swear. It won’t take any longer than that. I wouldn’t ask but I’m in such a time crunch.”
To Emma’s surprise, Benjamin didn’t even stop to think about it, he merely reached into his pocket and handed her the keys to his BMW. “No problem. It’s the least I can do for you,” he said.
“Thanks,” Emma said, her heart sinking as she thought about what his willingness might mean.
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