Bleached Blonde waved her arm high. “Pick me, pick me.”
“Madeline, tell us,” the woman said.
The blonde sat up straighter and turned her index finger and thumb into an O, declaring, “With my ex-husband, it’s zero. With my hot new boy toy, it’s infinity.”
The ladies cracked up, and Isla grabbed Steph’s arm once more. “Isn’t that so true,” Isla said breathlessly. “It’s the same for me. Well, Eli’s no boy toy, but he’s all man in the—”
“Is that champagne? I have been craving it all day,” Steph said, as if she’d had nothing but the bubbly beverage on her mind. She pointed to a bottle on the sleek pewter coffee table.
“Someone get this hot young babe a champagne,” Madeline shouted, pointing at Steph.
In seconds, Steph had downed the bubbly beverage and figured she’d need many more to make it through a sex-toy party that her stepfather had inadvertently invited her to. Or perhaps it was intentional. The mere thought of that made her pour a second glass.
Easy as pie.
Padding quietly down the carpeted hall, as noiseless as a cat, Jake passed a guest bedroom, then reached the office. Holding his breath, he gripped the doorknob and turned it quietly. Every muscle in his body was poised. To move, to run, to respond. Logic told him that Eli wouldn’t be in this room, but you never know.
Gently, he opened the door and peered beyond it. The moonlight streaked through the window, casting faint glows across the desk, the floor, and the shelves.
Photos of Eli’s fiancée and his kids lined his desk. An image of Steph kissing a stingray caught Jake’s attention. The sun shone on her face, and the water sparkled like diamonds behind her. Her smile could launch a thousand ships. Her happiness radiated from the frame, and his heart beat faster.
He smacked his chest to shut it up.
The safe had to be in here. He began his search.
The bleached blonde named Madeline patted the seat next to her. “You’re Eli’s girl, right?”
“Stepdaughter,” Steph corrected as she took the seat.
The dark-haired maid swooped in and deposited a new tray full of appetizers on the low table. Immediately, Isla’s hand shot out for the olives, with fingers like a pelican’s beak, grasping one. She popped it into her mouth and rolled her eyes in delight.
“Tell us everything,” Madeline said. “He talks about you all the time.”
A chorus of women’s voices echoed Madeline.
“He does?” Steph asked as happiness coursed through her.
Isla nodded. “He was so excited to see you earlier this week at Tristan’s.”
Steph parted her lips, tempted to ask why he’d invited her tonight but didn’t show. Instead, she focused on her mission. “I was so happy to see him, too. It sounds like you’re both having the time of your lives here in the Islands,” she said, grateful that the light-headedness from the champagne made her sound truly thrilled.
Isla placed her hand on her heart. “Oh, we are. We truly are. Life is lovely in the Caymans.”
Steph sighed happily, imitating Isla. “I can only imagine. You have the club, and he told me about all your charitable work, and of course the property you’re investing in, too,” she said, the words tumbling forth with ease as she went fishing for info. The rest of the women oohed and aahed as they stroked pearl-filled rabbits and dual-action toys.
Isla’s eyes lit up and she crossed her fingers. “I’m hoping and praying the deal goes through. Madeline is my realtor, so I have high hopes. And when it does, I should be able to expand my gallery and showcase even more world-class art.”
“Oh, won’t that just be divine!” Steph declared, the bubbles buoying her as she mentally patted herself on the back for reeling in that bit of intel about their real-estate ventures. Jake would be impressed. Sexy, smart, hands-off Jake, who was waiting patiently in her Jeep.
“Yes. I do hope so. I’ve sold several paintings recently from an artist named Lynx who has such a brilliant concept of what the world can be.”
“How so?” Steph asked, eyes pinned on Isla.
“He believes in simplicity. That the world and its challenges can be reduced to geometric shapes. Eli and I so agree with him. He’s on a retreat in California to meditate on his newest series.”
Ah, so that explained the art in the club. Steph reached for her glass, downing the rest of it. “That must be where Eli is tonight. At the gallery,” Steph said, casting the bait in the water once more.
Isla waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, he got called away into the club. Had to check on a security issue there. You can never be too careful, you know.”
Steph’s ears pricked. Isla was like a blessed font of information. “Of course. One must always be safe. Can’t skimp on security.”
Isla patted Steph on the knee. “He’ll be back. He won’t stay away for long, knowing I’m doing some shopping tonight for new friends,” Isla said, waggling her well-groomed eyebrows at the array of vibrators.
She coughed. Lunch was definitely making a return trip. “Excuse me for a minute. I need the ladies’ room.”
“Just head down the hall,” Isla said, gesturing grandly, the ring on her right hand sparkling as she pointed.
Steph wandered past the kitchen, glancing behind her to make sure the coast was clear, then into the long hallway. Like a true Nancy Drew, she hunted around, scanning for any hidden doorways, secret passageways, or for art that might house a safe. The walls were lined with framed images of shapes—it was an homage to basic geometry with paintings of squares, circles, and trapezoids, similar to the club. But they were miniature—a few inches wide by a few inches high, too small to hide a safe. Crap. She really wanted to find a possible location for diamonds.