Through her open door, she watched Chance go in and out of Michael’s office several times, but there was no sign of Will. Not that she’d expected him to show up today. Still, her heart stuttered every time someone entered the lobby, and sank every time she realized it wasn’t him.
After lunch, a crew delivered and set up rental chairs and a platform in the lobby, turning it into a makeshift stage for the private auction scheduled that night. While a woman affixed a skirt to the platform, Chance paced the lobby like a caged animal. Several times, he glanced over at the elevators as if waiting for someone.
When it appeared he was heading for her office, Claire snapped her attention back to her screen, adrenaline screaming through her body in a tingly blast. What on earth could he possibly want with her?
He stood right outside the door. “May I speak with you, Miss Maddox?”
Claire placed her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting. “Sure.” He was smaller than Will, with brown hair that touched his shoulders. Piercing blue eyes like his brother’s studied her face as he got closer. He had the same whatever-it-was that all three brothers had, but he didn’t appeal to her in any way like Will did. Nobody had ever appealed to Claire like that.
“I hate to ask you this, but have you spoken with Will today?”
Prickles rolled over her skin. “No.”
He shifted uncomfortably and looked over his shoulder into the lobby. “Neither have I. He hasn’t answered his phone since he spoke with Michael last night. I was hoping you might have—”
“I haven’t.” She tried to focus on her screen, but she couldn’t, and he didn’t leave. “Maybe you should talk to Jacob.”
“Okay. Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “That’s not the only thing I wanted to talk to you about.”
She leaned back in her chair and waited. His manner was nothing like Will’s assertive, direct approach.
He glanced over his shoulder out the door to the lobby, where the crew was still setting up chairs. “As you can see, we are prepping for an event tonight, and I really hate to ask it, but we could sure use some help.”
“I gave notice today and removed my name from the list to work tonight. I only agreed to stay until this catalog is edited, and I’m almost finished.”
“I know.” He twisted a ring on his right hand. “Beverly told me. I’m asking you to reconsider. We will only need help with check-in.”
“Why are you asking me rather than Hig…Mrs. Higgins?”
“Because it was an excuse to ask you if you’d heard from Will.”
Well, at least he was honest. She took a deep breath and met his steady gaze. Did he think she was a spy, too? His brother Michael did for sure. But Will didn’t. That much she was certain of. Maybe working this auction would demonstrate she had nothing to hide. Maybe not. Maybe the real reason was that deep down inside, she really wanted to see Will again and clear the air. He’d appeared crushed outside her apartment last night. After what she’d learned about him online, she knew she should at least let him know she understood why she would be suspect.
Chance leaned forward. “We really could use the help. Please reconsider. We’ll pay double for the event.”
Like that mattered. As Will pointed out so eloquently last night, she had five-fucking-million dollars in her bank account. The only reason she was even finishing up the work in front of her was because Elite Placement had a good working relationship with this company and she didn’t want to make Heather look bad. Be responsible, Claire. “Okay. I’ll help out.”
The trademark Anderson dimples made an appearance as he smiled at her across the desk.
…
“Open the fucking door!” Chance shouted from the front porch of Will’s house. “I know you’re in there.”
Will rolled over and landed on the floor in front of the sofa with a thud he could hardly hear or feel over the pounding inside his skull. He could, however, hear his little brother banging on his leaded glass front door.
“You break that glass, and I’ll make you eat every last shard of it,” he tried to shout back, but could only manage a croaking sound as he struggled to his feet. When he opened the door, his little brother strode into the living room without a word. Will didn’t even have to look at his face to know what he was thinking. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” Chance picked up the almost-empty bottle and strode to the kitchen, dropping it in the trash can with a bang that bordered on a sonic boom as it rattled around in Will’s brain.
“Well, you would be an expert.” It was a low blow, and he knew it.
His brother’s voice remained level. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you, Will.”
He slumped into his favorite chair and pressed the heels of his palms to his temples. “Why are you here?”