Pocketbooks and Pistols

I heard the office manager call my name as I left the breakroom with my first cup of coffee and headed down the hall. Even though I was at L.A. Affairs, my Holt’s training kicked in and I started walking faster—it was really early, okay?

“Haley?” Priscilla called again. “Haley!”

Crap.

Obviously, she wasn’t going to give up like the customers did.

I stopped and turned back, and saw her striding toward me. She was mid-thirties, tall, and blond, and always dressed in chic fashions, as required. This morning, she looked like she was already on some sort of mission.

“Oh, Priscilla, good morning,” I said, as if I hadn’t heard her call my name over and over.

“I could see you were deep in thought, and I can’t blame you,” she said, catching up to me. “After what you’ve done.”

I’d done something?

I couldn’t get a read from her expression on whether I’d done something good, or something I hadn’t thought I’d get caught at.

“You’ve pulled off quite a coup,” she told me.

Okay, it must have been something good. I had no idea what it was, so all I could do was give her a let’s-see-where-this-is-going smile and wait.

Priscilla didn’t disappoint.

“I got a call first thing this morning from the Holt’s Department Store marketing department. They have a huge event coming up, and they asked for you specifically.” An oh-my-God smile bloomed on her face. “You’ve landed us a major international corporation!”

Obviously, she’d never been into a Holt’s store. Still, I was happy to take the credit.

“I’m always on the lookout for new clients,” I told her.

I wasn’t, but this sounded better.

“You must have worked some marketing magic to land them,” she said, still smiling and looking oh-so impressed with me.

I saw no reason to mention that I worked at Holt’s part-time, or that I’d been run over with the job of staging their festival.

Priscilla frowned. “They are insisting on a quick turnaround time on this. I forwarded you the marketing department’s email detailing the event. Now, you’ll have to be sure to—”

“I’ve got this, Priscilla,” I told her.

She gave me a concerned look, and I gave her my don’t-question-the-master look right back. What else could I do?

The last thing I wanted was for her to assign someone to help me who might learn that I worked at Holt’s—not to mention that the owner was my former official boyfriend.

That might sully my accomplishment.

“Fine,” she said, looking relieved. “But if you need help with anything, anything at all, let me know immediately.”

“I will.”

“And if any problems arise—”

“I’ll handle them.”

Priscilla took a few seconds to digest this, then said, “Good job, Haley. You’re a true asset to us.”

I went into my office, closed the door, and collapsed into my desk chair.

Oh my God, how was I going to pull this off?

I could have dissolved into complete panic mode, but I pulled myself together because, really, I could handle this.

This was a slow time of the year, not only for L.A. Affairs, but for our vendors as well. I knew it wouldn’t be a problem to book pretty much whoever I needed for the Holt’s festival this weekend. Even if I had to resort to my B-list of vendors, I knew that would work in my favor, too. They’d knock themselves out for L.A. Affairs and would do a superior job hoping to get bumped up to my A-list.

Gulping down my coffee for an added brain-boost, I got to work.

I breezed through the next few hours concentrating on putting plans for the Holt’s festival into motion—and doing a fantastic job of it, if I do say so myself—until my cell phone buzzed.

Detective Shuman popped into my mind. He’d been more than a little riled up last night when I’d told him about my run-in with George at Wright’s Auto Works, so I expected I’d hear from him today with details about how he’d stormed the garage, confronted the guy, demanded to know why he’d treated me so badly, and avenged my honor.

Or maybe I was getting a little carried away.

Not that it mattered, I realized, when I glanced at the caller ID screen and saw that it was Liam calling. A little glow of warmth welled inside of me.

“How’s your day going?” he asked, when I answered my phone.

“Busy,” I said.

“Too busy to get out of the office for a bit?”

I’m never too busy to leave work.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked.

Not that it mattered.

“How about meeting me for lunch?” Liam suggested.

“Just the boost my day needs,” I told him.

“There’s a Cheesecake Factory across the street from your office,” he said. “Is thirty minutes enough time for you to wrap up what you’re working on, and meet me there?”

“No problem,” I told him, and we ended the call.

Thirty minutes?

Liam really needed to get to know me better.

I grabbed my handbag and left.

* * *

This morning I’d dressed in my charcoal-gray business suit, which I’d expertly accessorized with black and a hint of red, and had selected a classic black and white Chanel bag to complete my look. Oddly enough, Liam had also selected a gray business suit with a red power tie.

I supposed that meant something, but I wasn’t sure what—other than that we looked great together.

We were seated in a booth at the Cheesecake Factory waiting for our lunches to be served. He’d asked how my day had gone so far. He was really good about that sort of thing.

I’d hit the high points, sharing with him the things that made me look good—really, there was no need for him to know absolutely everything about me just yet—then I asked him the same question.

“The usual,” he told me, then shifted uncomfortably and started fiddling with his silverware.

I got a weird feeling.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“No—yes. Yes.” He cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. “I think I might have overstepped when I asked you to go away with me weekend after next.”

My weird feeling got weirder.

Oh my God. Was he backing out? Was I sitting here in my totally fabulous outfit, planning not to order cheesecake for dessert so I wouldn’t look like a pig at a trough in front of him, and he’d changed his mind about us taking our relationship up another notch?

I should have been angry but, really, I was sad.

“I sprang the invitation on you without any warning. I shouldn’t have done that,” Liam said, looking troubled. “And I should have asked if you wanted to go to the mountains, if you even liked the mountains, instead of making those decisions without consulting you.”

He was upset because he thought he hadn’t been considerate enough?

Liam was a keeper, all right.

“Everything’s good. I’m always up for a surprise,” I told him. “And if I really hadn’t wanted to go to the mountains, I would have said so.”

I’m not good at holding back.

He’d learn that soon enough.

Liam looked relieved. “You like to ski? Snowboard?”

“Sure,” I said, then gave him a little grin I only shared with official boyfriends. “But, honestly, I’m much better at indoor sports.”

“Oh, good, then—”

He froze and a few seconds passed before he realized what I was hinting at. Then I got a smile from him I’d never seen before.

“Could we move up our timetable?” he asked. “Maybe leave right now?”

Wow, this was really nice, having a special moment with Liam. He was great in so many ways, and I knew—

Oh my God, a Mystique clutch just passed by our booth.

I sprang out of my seat.

“Haley?” Liam said.

“I’ll be right back,” I told him, and hurried after the Mystique and the woman who was carrying it.

“Are you okay?” he called.

I didn’t have time to explain. I was on a mission.

Liam would just have to learn to deal with it.

I wound my way between the tables, the servers, and their trays of food, determined to keep her in sight. Honestly, I’d had it with waiting for Nuovo to locate their missing shipment. I wanted a Mystique and I was going to get one, even if I had to give up on my stunning eighty-percent employee discount.

I followed her toward the rear of the restaurant, figuring she was headed for the restroom. I intended to ask where she’d gotten her Mystique. Obviously, one of the shops, stores, or boutiques in Los Angeles had received a shipment. I needed to find out which one it was so I could go there myself.

When we reached the ladies’ room, a group of older women pushed in ahead of me. There was already a line so we all squeezed in along the wall to wait. The place was noisy, with all the chatter, the running water, and the hand dryers. I didn’t really want to shout over all the racket—it’s hard to sound casual under those circumstances—but no way was I going to let that Mystique out of my sight before I found out where it had come from.

Just as I was about to make my move, I realized something wasn’t quite right.

The girl carrying the handbag of my dreams looked familiar. She was probably about my age, tall, with dark hair. I definitely knew her from somewhere, but where?

My mind spun as the line for the stalls moved forward and I mentally placed her image in a variety of locations I’d been to lately, to see where it fit. A restaurant? L.A. Affairs? Holt’s—no, definitely not Holt’s.

Then it hit me.

She was Chandra, my personal shopper at Nuovo.

No wonder I didn’t recognize her. She was dressed in a YSL pencil skirt and jacket, and she had on Louboutin pumps—mega-expensive designer wear.

Wow, Nuovo must pay better than I’d thought.

I realized then that something else was amiss.

Chandra had told me that Nuovo was waiting to receive their very first order of Mystiques. I’d also been told by Kendal that the shipment was lost.

Yet here Chandra stood with the most fabulous clutch of the moment—which, really, should have been mine—in her possession.

Huh. Interesting.

And definitely something I intended to follow up on.