“Who is it?” Dibs called.
Tessa instinctively recoiled. How could she have been so stupid? She should have called first or sent a note, even a text message would have been better than this hideous nightmare.
“A woman from housing,” Margaret called over her shoulder. “She’s delivering a basket.”
The door was wrenched from her hand to reveal a clean-shaven Dibs, hair mussed, shirtless, his slacks undone at the waist.
Oh, sweet Jesus…
Tessa dropped her gaze to the floor. Her stomach lurched and sour bile doused the base of her throat. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t…I never guessed…”
“Tessa, what are you doing here?” His icy tone chilled the sweat on her brow.
“Tessa?” Margaret’s head fell back on her shoulders, her throaty laugh coating the air. “Oh, this is classic.”
Dibs stiffened. His eyes narrowed, and he scanned Margaret from head to toe before pinning Tessa with a razor-sharp glare. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No.” She glanced between them. Something reeked of deceit, exactly like Vanessa Brenner. But whatever game was afoot, she wanted nothing to do with it. “I had this basket and I thought…here.” The cellophane crinkled when she thrust the wine and cheese into Margaret’s arms. “Congratulations.”
She spun on her toe and raced for the elevator. Before the doors slid all the way open, she shouldered through and jabbed the button for the fourth floor. The doors shut, and with them the walls closed in, the air grew heavy and dense. She wrung her hands and fought to hang on.
Dibs and Margaret…together…like that. Nausea washed her in waves.
The elevator opened. She sped down the hallway, and pounded a tight fist on the door.
The moment the handle twisted in the lock, she pushed past Tiffany and rushed for the bathroom, kicked the door shut, and dry-heaved into the sink.
“Tessa?” A light tap sounded before the door came ajar. “What on earth happened? Are you all right?”
“No.” The word croaked from her throat. She rinsed her mouth, snatched a towel from the bar, and ran it under the cold water. Swirling lights danced in her vision, and she plopped onto the closed toilet seat, pitching her head between her knees.
Tiffany’s palm met her back. “What happened?”
“Get me my cell.” Tessa flipped her hand in the air above her head. “I need to make a call.”
“Okay, sure.” A quick rummage of Tessa’s purse, and a moment later the phone appeared below her knees. “Who are you calling?”
“Caroline.”
Half a ring and she answered, “How’d it go?”
“Margaret was there.”
“Oh, shit,” Tiffany whispered.
“Margaret answered the door in a slinky negligee and Dibs was half-naked!” Tessa slowly eased her head from between her legs, the ear piece jittering uncontrollably against her cheek.
A moment of silence passed through the line. “She’s just upped the ante.”
“What are you talking about, Caroline?” Tessa draped the cold towel across the nape of her neck. “God, I’m not cut out for this. I’m never going to last the weekend.”
“Yes, you will.” Caroline was firm. “Marcus and I are going to help you. Let me find out what happened and I’ll call you ba—hi, Mumsy!” The line went dead.
Tessa flipped her phone shut and met Tiffany’s wide-eyed alarm. “I guess we just learned the worst that could happen.”
****
Her back against the main bar, Tessa smiled at the arriving guests, their faces glowing with appreciation as they surveyed the pleasant ambiance of the room. She and Tiffany had purposely created a casual welcome for opening night, opting for a Southwest fiesta theme in the Coronado. The stucco interior, accented with dark maple trim, supplied the perfect canvas for their work of art. The main bar had been transformed into a cantina, with weathered clapboard signs displaying the mileage to various Mexican towns. Brightly woven serapes decorated the tables, underneath hurricane lamps surrounded by bowls stacked with lemons and limes.
The menu reflected the theme: a long salad bar piled high with everything for the guests to make their own tacos, a buffet including steak and chicken burritos, and even a station where quesadillas where made to order by a chef topped in a glittering sombrero.
Waitresses slipped effortlessly through the round tables in off-the-shoulder blouses and ruffled peasant skirts, the bartenders wore jeans and casual shirts with vests.
Across the distance, Tiffany seemed to stand directly in front of an old gas station, complete with limeade counter and signs advertising
Get Gas Here
and
Last Chance for Gas
. Tessa nodded and her partner tapped the nearest musician on the shoulder. They tilted their chairs back and strummed their guitars, cowboy hats perched low, legs swinging lazily in the air.
The atmosphere was perfect.
Against the far wall, Michael and his crew finished their last-minute equipment adjustments. One of the women fidgeted with a light stand, and Tessa squinted in her direction. Where had she seen that face before? She lifted her chin when recognition dawned. The young woman was the same girl Michael had escorted to the Sandburg wedding. They exchanged a shy smile, and when Michael reached out and gently caressed her arm, Tessa pressed her lips together in a resigned smile. It seemed he had found himself someone to love.
Her head whirled around when the Brenner family entered. Anxiety spiked in her stomach. A breath wheezed through her constricted throat.
They appeared the perfect patriarchal family, the men in their Italian suits, the woman elegantly coifed in their designer gowns. Mr. and Mrs. Brenner led the way, followed by Margaret on Dibs’s arm, and Marcus escorting Caroline in the rear.
They moved en masse to their table, breaking off from each other when people neared with smiles and outstretched hands. Dibs held Margaret’s chair, and then sat next to her, jaw set, his mouth an angry black slash.
Caroline leaned into her mother’s ear, lips moving, before twirling for the bar. She approached Tessa’s side and ordered a margarita.
“It was a setup.” She retrieved her compact and absently powered her nose.
Tessa nodded, smiling pleasantly when Mrs. Henderson entered, but inside she was a jumbled mess. Caroline’s words made no sense. For Vanessa Brenner to devise a setup, she first would’ve had to know of Tessa’s plan. “You told her I intended to see Dibs?”
“Of course not. Fortuitous coincidence.” A snick, and Caroline dropped the compact into her purse. “She sent Margaret to his room. An heir will solidify the deal.”
Tessa’s knees gave, and she clutched the bar for stability. Fortuitous, hell, her timing couldn’t have been worse.
She
wasn’t the victim of Vanessa’s scheming,
Dibs
was. Sending Margaret to his room in that attire had been an ambush. Her stomach reeled and she swallowed hard. “Well? Did Margaret seal the deal?”
“
That
you’ll have to ask Dibs. He’s not speaking to us.” She lifted her drink. “Think about what you saw, Tessa. You would know better than anyone at this point.”
Struggling to set her revulsion aside and concentrate on the details, Tessa replayed the scene in her mind. “Something was definitely off. But I can’t put my finger on it.”
The lights flickered.
“Keep your eyes and ears open. And assume nothing.” Caroline left the bar for the Brenner table.
Tessa checked Tiffany, then Celeste and Roxanne in their spots at opposite corners of the room. Like it or not, it was time to address the troops. She pushed off from the bar to behind the podium, imagining a steel rod up her back, forcing her to remain upright and in place.
“Good evening,” she spoke into the microphone.
Every set of eyes in the room shifted to her…all, except one.
“On behalf of Brenner Financial Group Investments and TNT Entertainment, I would like to welcome everyone to the opening ceremonies for the Annual BFG Summer Weekend.”
A round of applause showered past her ears. Her eyes involuntarily flicked to the Brenner table. Dibs lifted a glass of scotch to his lips, but then paused, squinting in Michael’s direction.
“A few announcements before dinner commences.” She tracked his line of sight to Michael and his new girlfriend, heads bowed in intimate discussions. Dread expanded in her stomach like a lead balloon. “This evening we ask that you please serve yourselves by table number from the buffets stationed around the room.”
Dibs yanked his chair forward an inch, flipped open the sides of his suit jacket.
“Once dinner has concluded”—she opened a palm toward the Brenner table—“Mr. Brenner would like a few moments to welcome you. The celebration will then continue down the hall in the Rose Room, for dessert and dancing.”
Michael and his new girlfriend braced their shoulders against the wall, fingers laced, smiling into one another’s eyes. The little hairs along the nape of Tessa’s neck tingled with foreboding.
She cleared her throat into the microphone, but evidently they were oblivious to anything but each other. “An itinerary of the weekend’s seminars was placed on the desks of each room earlier today, including a list of leisure activities we hope you enjoy, either with your families or alone.”
Dibs’s squint tightened a degree. A muscle ticked along his jaw.
Her nerves sizzled and crackled like a live wire. She needed to finish quickly, before the entire evening headed south. “In the meantime, we hope you find the accommodations pleasing, and don’t hesitate to let TNT Entertainment know how to make your stay more enjoyable. Thank you.”
She clicked off the microphone and beelined in Michael’s direction, scattered applause trailing in her wake. But Dibs’s table stood closer. And if he got it in his head to do something rash, she would never make it in time.
Michael leaned into his girlfriend’s lips. She tilted her chin and tugged him closer.
Dibs sprang forward in his chair.
Alarm bells clanged a five-alarm warning in Tessa’s head.
Oh, no…don’t kiss her!
And as if her thoughts had come to life, Michael tipped his head and placed a lingering kiss on the young woman’s lips.
The world slowed to a crawl. Dibs leaped from his seat. The chair teetered precariously before thumping to the floor. Tessa hopped to a swift walk, weaving through the milling crowd.
Michael turned away from his girlfriend, smiling, and peered into the lens of his camera. He abruptly straightened, his wide eyes focused on the menacing gait of Dibs’s advance. He retreated a step, and then paused. Confusion wrinkled his brow. He withdrew another step…then another.
Run, Michael! Get the hell out of his way!
He pivoted and dashed along the wall, dodging guests, loaded plates and glasses in hand. Rounding the buffet, he darted a panicked glance over his shoulder. Dibs halted and switched directions, aimed on cutting Michael off before he reached the door.
But his new route was her one saving grace. She closed in and captured his arm. “Leave it alone,” she whispered.
He wrenched free and continued down the buffet.
She stepped with him and secured his arm a second time. “Dibs, please. Leave Michael alone. It’s okay.”
He snapped his head over. “Wrong, Tessa. I warned him what would happen. He needs to pay for what he’s done.”
She dropped her hands and shrank back. The hatred in Dibs’s eyes, the unadulterated loathing turned her blood to ice. She stood frozen as he stormed from the room, hot on Michael’s trail.
Tiffany materialized, her breathing labored. “What the hell is going on?”
“Notify security,” Tessa whispered. “Dibs just popped his cork.” She stumbled forward and flew through the door.
Bolting down the hallway, she scanned the passing banquet rooms. Nothing. No sign of them. She neared the security desk and caught the guard’s attention as he spoke furiously into his two-way radio. He pointed at the staircase leading to the Crystal Ballroom.
She launched up the steps two at a time and tossed open the door. Past the elegant tables, Michael was heading through one of the far doors onto the balcony, Dibs closing in fast. Several tables had been knocked askew, the crystal candelabras tipped over, seesawing near the edge.
“Dibs, stop!” Two of the centerpieces exploded against the marble floor, blocking her voice.
He wrenched the door wide and stalked outside. She raced after him, shoved the handle, and rushed onto the balcony in one motion. Michael sprinted at full speed through the large white tents, Dibs’s long legs quickly eating up the distance between them.
She leaped down the steps, her breathing labored, pumping her arms and legs faster, working harder so she could reach them in time.
A roar punched the evening sky as Dibs pounced on top of Michael, driving them both over the ledge into the reflecting pool.
“I didn’t do it!” Michael shouted, splashing backward through the water. “It was Tessa. She’s the one!”
A guttural growl breached Dibs’s chest. He swung back and rocketed his fist into Michael’s face. Arms pinwheeling, staggering unsteadily, Michael collapsed, and went under. Dibs charged through the knee-deep water, wrenched Michael up by his shirt and set him on his feet. He hauled his fist back for another swing.
“Dibs, no!” She jumped into the pool, dove for his elbow, and held on for dear life. “Stop!”
“I’m not done!”
Michael slipped free and flopped loudly into the water. He half swam, half crab-crawled away, sputtering for air.
“Wait!” She grappled with Dibs’s arm, her feet slipping when he fought to pry her hands loose. “Please, just stop!”
He hesitated. And in that split second she waded directly in front of him, held up both hands. “Stop.” She panted. “That’s enough!”
“You’re protecting him? He disrespects you in front of a room full of people and you’re protecting him?”
“I’m not protecting him, Dibs, I’m trying to protect you!”
“From what?”
“Right now, yourself!”