Read To Love a Scoundrel for Free Online

long stairway.
    After forcing herself to wait until she'd reached the first landing, she finally spun around and glanced throughout the lobby. Mac and Brent were gone. Moving quickly, Jewel hurried back down the stairs and pushed her way through the crowd to the reception desk.
    "Excuse me?'' she called to the clerk as she removed a blank piece of paper from her reticule and folded it in half. "I have a message for Mr. Brent Connors. Would you please see that he gets it?"
    The harried man snatched the paper from her hand, barely glancing at it or her. "Sure, lady," he said as he turned and pushed it into the slot of room ten.
    "Thank you," she said airily. "You'll just never know how grateful I am." Then she waded back through the crowd and dashed up the stairs.
    When she reached room ten, Jewel stopped and looked up and down the hall. Satisfied she was alone, she lifted her skirt and removed the pearl-handled stiletto from the leather holster strapped to her right thigh. Moving quickly, carefully, she maneuvered the tip of the blade inside the lock until she heard a click. She turned the knob and slipped inside the darkened room.
    Waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, listening for any kind of movement, she stood stock still for a full minute. Then Jewel reached for the wall bracket and turned up the wick on the lamp. She made a visual sweep of the room, noting its impressive size, sparse furnishings, and burgundy flowered wallpaper. A large brass bed with one side table seemed almost lonely against the long back wall. Across the room, an oversized chiffonier stood near a small closet door. The only other piece of furniture was a full-length looking glass in an ornate freestanding frame of dark walnut.
    Jewel headed to the closet and opened the door. It was pin neat, with not so much as a handkerchief out of place. She lifted her skirts and replaced the knife, then made a quick search of the suits hanging in front of her. She found nothing in the pockets. She closed the door and concentrated on the high chiffonier. Beginning with the bottom drawer, Jewel started to pick through the assortment of socks and handkerchiefs when she heard the distinct clink of metal against metal. Someone was using a key to open the already unlocked door.
    With no time to consider her options, Jewel slid across the floor and under the bed. The intruder stepped into the room just as she pulled her feet beneath the mattress.
    Brent sauntered across the threshold, his expression expectant, and began singing. "Oh, Buffalo gals won't you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight, Buff—" He interrupted the song when he noticed the lamp. "Strange," he muttered, his voice unnaturally loud, "I could have sworn I turned that wick down before I left."
    He swiveled, taking in all corners of the room, then grinned and approached the closet. With a jerk, he opened the door and peered inside. His clothes stared back at him. After taking off his Stetson, he sailed it up to the shelf and ran his fingers through his thick, coarse hair. Had he been wrong?
    Puzzled, he crossed the room and sat down on the edge of his bed. He was positive he'd been set up by the girl and her father, or whoever he was. And if his instincts weren't enough to convince him, the old man had nearly choked when he'd claimed a sudden headache and excused himself from the game before it began. So where was the girl? She couldn't have gone through his things and robbed him that fast. Again he wondered if he had misjudged them.
    Drawing a deep breath, Brent collapsed against the pillows with a low groan. Maybe he was getting overly suspicious, becoming incapable of judging anyone since he'd taken up this idiotic search for the scoundrel Harry Benton. Yet, he consoled himself, the girl had presented herself as two different women in two completely different circumstances. What else could she be but a confidence artist or a thief?
    Brent took another long breath and froze.