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He motioned around. “Into Harlon’s private office?”
“I lost my way to the ladies’ room.”
“Ha. I’ve never met anyone with a better sense of direction than you.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it, thrown by the indirect compliment.
Nash leaned closer. “You’re here because you know what he’s up to.”
“I’m here because I know he’s up to something, and I want to know what that is.”
Nash raised his eyebrows. “Even if it gets you killed?”
Who knows how long our staring contest might have lasted if the door handle hadn’t turned just then.
We whirled. Shit.
Nash hauled me toward the balcony, but not outside, because there was no time. Instead, he ducked behind the heavy floor-to-ceiling curtains, pulled me in beside him, and stuck a finger in front of his lips.
I glared, making sure he got my message.Not stupid, remember?
He hooked a foot around mine and pulled back so my toes wouldn’t show.
I grimaced. Okay, okay. I wasn’t stupid, but I hadn’t thought of that. But that was because I wasn’t an experienced…burglar? Assassin? What was Nash anyway? He wasn’t just another guy who’d happened to drift through Sedona, that was for sure.
We stood still, listening to the office door open, then close, followed by the steps of one — no, two — people sneaking in.
I did a double take. Wait. Sneaking? What was it with this office?
That did solve one minor mystery, though — the main door hadn’t been locked after all. Not that it mattered at this point.
“Oh, Josh…” a woman murmured.
I blinked. That had to be Harlon’s Groupie Girl Two…or Three. I could tell by the airheaded voice and attitude.
“Cindy…” a man breathed.
“Candy,” she corrected, not at all perturbed.
“Sorry, baby,” the guy said.
Heavy breathing made their mission abundantly clear. A zipper zipped, and a shoe fell to the floor.
“I need you,” Josh breathed. “Right here.” That was followed by a low thump. Him lifting Cindy — er, Candy — to the desk?
“Right here is perfect,” she cooed.
More heavy breathing. I could have screamed. Was this really happening?
Nash checked his watch. Was he on a deadline or something?
Then I cursed — very, very quietly. He might not have a deadline, but I did. Sooner or later, someone would notice I’d slipped away from the party.
Someone like Harlon. Shit.
I eyed the balcony door, which showed in the gap between the curtain and the wall. But unless the young lovers got really absorbed in their…er, hanky-panky, there was no way to slip out unnoticed.
Nash gave me a firm look. We were in for the long haul.
