Page 2 of Scout

After stopping in the men’s lavatory and checking his appearance, Scout took the stairs to the lobby instead of riding the elevator down. On the weekends, Scout wore a polo shirt with the Paradox or Turner Continental logo and a pair of dress pants. During the week, however, he always wore a suit. He was fond of designer clothes and loved it when a suit was custom-made for his six-foot, two-hundred-pound, muscular frame.

As he strode through the lobby and into the restaurant, Scout’s gaze took in his surroundings, ensuring everything was how it was supposed to be andeveryone appeared content. He was a stickler for detail, and his staff was trained to be the same way. The satisfaction of his guests and tenants was his number one priority. Happy guests will return and recommend the hotel to their friends and family.

It took a minute for Scout to realize most of his staff didn’t recognize him. A few had done double-takes when he nodded and said hello to them before recognition kicked in. It was his first time being on the main floor since he lost the bet, and none of his employees had ever seen him clean-shaven before, except for two of his vice presidents who’d known him since college.

Stopping at the hostess stand, Scout waited for the attractive, leggy, blonde woman, manning the phones and greeting patrons at the door, to finish taking a reservation. As required, she wore a black dress that was neither too suggestive nor casual. After hanging up the phone, she gave him a brilliant smile and her full attention. “How may I help you, s—” Her blue eyes, enhanced with subtle makeup, widened. “Oh, Mr. Turner, I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you.”

He lifted his hand up in a reassuring gesture. “It’s okay, Rebecca. You’re not the only one. Don’t get too used to it, though. I lost a bet and will grow it back next month.”

A light laugh erupted from her. Like many Paradox’s employees, she’d worked there for several years and learned to relax around the big boss whileremaining professional. “Well, you still look very handsome, sir ... different but handsome. Are you here for dinner?”

“No, Phillipe called and said the mayor was here with some guests.”

“Yes, sir. They’re at table twenty.” When he raised his eyebrows at the mention of the second-best table in Sapphire’s, she quickly explained, “Magnus Keller reserved table twenty-one for this evening and is due in about twenty minutes but said he might be a little late.”

“Ah, okay. That’s fine.” Mag was one of the highest-paid actors in Hollywood for the past seven or eight years and a good friend of Scout’s. He also owned the other penthouse in the Paradox. Either the man planned to entertain a date tonight, or a movie producer would try to schmooze him into starring in his or her next film. Those were the only times Mag used his status to request the best table in the house. Otherwise, he took what was available. However, the staff always took good care of him, no matter what, because of his celebrity status, his friendship with Scout, and the fact that he tipped very generously.

After spending a few minutes talking with the mayor and his party and politely declining an invitation to some political function, Scout made a point to stop by each occupied table, ensuring they had everything they needed. It was still early on a Wednesday evening, so the restaurant wasn’t filled to capacity yet,but within an hour, it would be. Sapphire’s head chef and staff had developed a considerable following since the place opened, and they rarely experienced a slow night.

After doing his duties and asking Rebecca to have someone bring the night’s beef special to his penthouse in about an hour, Scout headed back into the lobby toward the elevators. He looked forward to getting out of his suit and into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. A new James Rollins thriller waited for him on his coffee table, and reading it was his only plan for the next few hours. He was what his mother called an introverted extrovert. While he loved socializing occasionally, he would rather be on his own, kicking back and reading or watching TV a few nights a week. He enjoyed the solitude and quiet. Some guys he dated in the past had understood that and either joined him in a peaceful evening or left him alone. Others, though, couldn’t understand why a wealthy man, who could afford to do anything he wanted in his spare time, would prefer to spend it behind closed doors instead of partying every night. Those guys rarely reached boyfriend status, as Scout ended things quickly when it became evident they only dated him for his money and social status.

As he was about to pass the hotel’s lobby bar, a man sitting on a stool with his back to Scout caught his eye. A glance in the mirrored wall behind the rows of alcohol confirmed his suspicion. After amoment’s hesitation, Scout altered his course, approached the bar, and took a seat beside Alex Shepherd. The man barely acknowledged him before returning his attention to the chilled, full glass of beer in front of him.

Scout ordered a club soda with lime from the bartender, who also didn’t recognize him, and thanked him when it was promptly delivered. He suddenly realized his lack of facial hair allowed him to observe some of his employees and guests without being identified. He sat in silence for a few moments, studying the reflection of the man beside him in the mirror. He took in Shepherd’s recently shaven jaw, dark eyes, brown hair with hints of red highlights, and kissable lips. The man was very striking and clearly still depressed about missing his interview.

Scout didn’t know the name of the cologne Shepherd wore, but whatever the brand, it was damn enticing. Unable to resist, he sipped his drink and then asked, “Rough day?”

Shepherd spared him a brief glance before eyeing his beer again. “Yup. Lost out on the job I really wanted.”

“That sucks. What happened?”

A loud sigh proceeded his answer. “It was my own damn fault. I was late to the interview and got blocked by the guy’s secretary guarding his door. All because of a dog that got hit by a car.”

Scout’s eyes narrowed at the odd revelation. “Adog? What does that have to do with you missing an interview? Did you hit it?”

“No! No. The ass that did kept going. I stopped. No one was around, and the dog didn’t have a collar on. She was hurt pretty badly. I keep a blanket in the trunk of my car, so I used that to scoop her up and rush her to the closest vet I could find on Google. That’s why I was late getting to the interview. I wanted to call on my way here to say I was running a few minutes late, but somewhere in that mess, I lost my phone. It’s definitely not in my car because the Bluetooth wasn’t picking it up. I called the vet’s office from one of the house phones in the lobby, and they don’t have it, so I probably dropped it on the road, and it’s been smashed by a semi by now.”

Of all the things the man could’ve said, rescuing a dog was the last excuse Scout expected. His gaze remained on the Shepherd’s reflection, looking for any signs he recognized the owner of the Paradox and was trying to snow him. However, nothing but disappointment showed on Shepherd’s face.

Scout’s impression of the man shot up a few more points. “Is the dog going to be okay?”

“Yeah, the vet seems to think so. I asked when I called about my phone—she’s got a broken leg and some bruising and road rash. They’ll keep her for another day or two. It’ll cost me over a grand to have her fixed up. From the condition she was in, even before the car hit her, it’s obvious she’s a stray. If Ididn’t agree to pay the vet bill, they would’ve put her down—humanely, of course.”

His disgusted snort said he didn’t think there was anything humane about euthanizing a dog simply because it was homeless. Scout silently agreed with him.

“Wow. That really sucks.”

“Tell me about it. I can’t let them kill her, and my apartment building doesn’t allow pets, so somehow, I’ll have to find a home for her before they release her. On top of all that, I need to get a new phone now and start looking for a job again.”

“What happened to your old one? Your job, I mean. I assume you had one.” Of course, Scout knew that from the man’s résumé.

“Yeah. One I really liked, but my mom had a mild stroke two months ago. She’s okay but needs to use a walker now. My dad and sister can easily care for her with the help of a home health aide, but I couldn’t sit back in New York and let them deal with everything here.” He shrugged as if the decision had been a no-brainer. “So, I gave a month’s notice and moved back to the Bay Area to do whatever I could to help my family.”

“Just like that? Without having another job lined up?”

“I thought Ididhave one. Three days before I was supposed to start, the hotel announced it was being sold in a merger, and all personnel decisions were put on hold until further notice. Even though I was offeredthe job, I hadn’t started yet, so ...” He shrugged instead of finishing the sentence.

Scout knew precisely which hotel Shepherd was referring to. He considered an attempt to acquire the property, but after getting a consultant’s report, he decided against it.

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