Here's the latest in this story again mistakes may be present due to the haste of the writing … hope you all enjoy :) Thank you for the kind reviews… Sorry I haven't updated sooner, please review so I know how I'm going :) Its longer and this may seem like filler but trust me im building up to some D/L action soon ... Please R & R :)

Chapter 11 – 'Make sure they give you a telephone'

It didn't take a clairvoyant to tell her what Quinton would have had in mind, had they been alone. Trapped Lindsay decided to turn her situation to her advantage. Maybe she could find out a few things, such as why this man and Danny seem to have an affinity for each other. She toyed with her glass. 'You could tell me what you do for a living.'

Quinton's brow rose sharply at the casual remark. Like a miser who had suddenly realized that a nickel was missing from his coffers. His easygoing tone was in direct conflict with the expression in his eyes 'Now why would you want to know something as boring as that?'

Because I don't have anything to say myself and I can't just sit here like a mindless dolt, searching for something to talk about.

From out of nowhere, a movie scenario came to her and because she had no idea what her own personality was, Lindsay slipped into the persona of an actress in a role. She was Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina. Elfin and charming. In a pinch that would do nicely. Turning the conversation around to Quinton, Lindsay leaned forward, her head resting on her upturned palm. She looked at the large gold ring on his hand. There was a square cut diamond in the center that rivaled hers. She'd already gotten the feeling that Quinton and monetary woes were not acquainted.

'It can't be all that boring if you can afford a ring like that.'

Quinton looked at the ring as if e hadn't seen it for quite some time.

For a moment, he watched the sun sparkle in the stone, then shifted his gaze to Lindsay's hand. 'It pales in comparison to the one on your hand, my dear.'

He signaled to the waiter, holding the empty bottle aloft. The message was clear. Satisfied that the waiter understood, he slid the bottle back into the bucket.

Quinton cocked his head as he appraised Lindsay.

'Do you like jewelry Mrs Messer?'

She knew that Danny would have wanted her to personalize the conversation and take it to the next plateau, but she couldn't force herself to make the man call her by her first name. Instead she smiled. 'Yes, I do.'

Lindsay didn't have to be told that Quinton thought all women loved jewelry and clothes. For all his sophistication, he had the air of a man who had pigeonholed women. But for Lindsay, the stone on her hand didn't hold any particular interest, other than as a symbol of the bond she had with Danny. She said what she felt Quinton expected to hear. It was easier that way. She looked at the tennis necklace around Sally's neck. The woman was deliberately fingering it to call her attention to the stones. Lindsay saw no harm letting the woman preen.

'That's a beautiful necklace you have.'

The smile on Sally's lips was coolly smug. 'Yes, I know.' Her brown eyes slanted toward Quinton.

'It was given to me as a token of appreciation.'

The waiter returned with another bottle of champagne, standing to Quinton's right. The smile on Quinton's lips, froze. It matched the frost in his eyes.

'My left, you dolt. Hasn't anyone trained you properly? You're supposed to stand on my left.'

As if prodded by the point of a sword, the waiter quickly moved to Quinton's other side. The scowl lifted as Quinton took the bottle from him. 'That's better.'

Sally noticed the confused look in Lindsay's eyes. She took pleasure in enlightening her. 'Richard has superstitions.'

Lindsay couldn't quite tell if the fact amused the woman or not. She didn't risk a smile, but her eyes told another story.

'Patterns,' Quinton corrected her. 'Patterns I see no reason to go against. You change a pattern, you change things that depend on them for an outcome.' He looked kindly at Lindsay. 'Sometimes, however, a change is for the good. Such as you and your husband appearing when you did on the golf course yesterday. You realize of course, that this makes you my good luck charms now?'

She didn't know if he was kidding, she had an uneasy feeling that he was very serious, despite the smile on his lips.

Well this was certainly getting uncomfortable. Lindsay glanced around hoping to see Danny walking toward them. He'd promise to be right back. How many minutes were there in 'right back' anyway?

Lindsay pushed back her chair. 'Maybe I should see what's keeping Danny,' she suggested to her host, rising to her feet.

Quinton stopped pouring champagne and caught her hand, his fingers closing around her wrist like a tight fitting band. Lindsay didn't know who was more surprised – her or Sally.

'Surely you don't plan to desert me, as well, do you?' He set the bottle on the table beside his glass as he looked up at her. Lindsay tried not to stiffen as she felt Quinton run his thumb along the inside of her wrist. 'You know,' he began speculatively, 'your wrist is quite dainty. It strikes me as being just the right size for a bracelet that has recently come into my possession. Diamond. Five carats.' He said the words matter-of-factly as he watched her face. 'A client couldn't pay his bill. He tendered the bracelet to me instead. I've been debating what o do with it ever since.'

Lindsay looked at Sally. Was this the man's way of getting back at the woman for her comment about his having superstitions? Anger glinted in Sally's eyes, but she said nothing.

'I'm afraid my husband wouldn't like that.' Lindsay informed him politely. 'Perhaps you should give it to Sally.'

'I'll decide who to give it to'

This was much too uncomfortable for her to endure alone. Slipping her hand from his grasp. Lindsay began to back away. 'I really think I should see what's keeping Danny. This isn't like him.' She had no way of knowing whether it was or not; she knew only that she wanted to get away for a little while. 'He really shouldn't keep you waiting like this'

Quinton had never been accused of displaying false modesty. 'I'm not accustomed to being kept waiting. Not without entertainment.'

There was no way she was going to provide that any longer. 'I'll be right back.' She promised. When pigs fly, she thought, if she had her way.

Without sparing either of them a backward glance, Lindsay hurried toward the hotel door. Once inside the hotel, she discovered that her mind wasn't the only thing disorientated. She had a complete lack of sense of direction. There were too many people in the way for her to get her bearings. Which way was the front desk? She stopped the first bellman she saw and asked for directions. Repeating them to herself like a chant, she finally arrived at the deck. Her heart sank. Danny was nowhere in sight.

Where had he gone?

Feeling a little desperate, Lindsay approached the man behind the reservation desk. 'Excuse me, could you tell me where Mr. Messer went?

Without turning his head, the man raised his eyes from the computer screen. His fingers remained poised on the keys. The smile his offered was both bright and without substance. It was exercised over a hundred times a day.

'Who?'

Lindsay couldn't shake the edgy feeling wafting through her. It might have originated in her amnesia, but it was steadily growing larger. It was as if everything she came in contact with insisted on contributing to it.

'The man who took a call here.'

The clerk looked at her blankly. 'I'm afraid you're mistaken.' He looked back at the screen and began to type. 'No one took a call at the desk during my watch.'

Lindsay leaned over and placed her hand over his, stilling the soft clatter of keys. He looked at her patiently, silently waiting for her to continue.

The bellman just came for him. At the pool. He said there was a call for my husband .' Lindsay said each word slowly as if that would make him understand. She could feel her frustration building.

The clerk looked down at her hand and waited until she withdrew it before he replied. His tone was patronizing 'if there was a call for your husband, the bellman would have brought a telephone to your table.' He began typing again.

An impatient sigh escaped her lips. 'The bellman said that they were all being used.'

The man ceased typing. His expression never changed as he reached down behind and produced a small telephone. Then he spared her a smile meant for a mentally challenged individual.

'Hardly I assure you that there are more where that came from.'

She didn't understand, not any of it. Why would the bellman say there were no telephones available if there were? And where was Danny? Why had he just disappeared? There had to be some explanation. Lindsay looked around feeling a little desperate. 'Is there another front desk somewhere? '

Thinking himself the target of a prank, the clerk's manner became distant. 'Yes. But that would be at another hotel, I'm afraid.'

He wasn't going to be any help. Lindsay backed away from the desk as a man in a Stetson ushered a large boned woman swaddled in a full length fur coat forward. The woman appeared to be quite oblivious to the temperature outside.

'We'd like a room.' The man announced in a booming voice. 'The name's Allen, Kiki and Jordan.'

'Make sure they give you a telephone,' Lindsay murmured to the man as she walked away.

Lindsay dragged her hand through her hair. There had to be some mistake. Where could Danny have gone? Everyone couldn't be lying to her, yet nothing was making any sense. She had no choice but to return to the table at the poolside. Maybe Danny was back. She fervently hoped so. She felt completely adrift right now and he was her only anchor. Retracing her steps carefully. Lindsay was just hurrying past the bank of elevators when the last car opened. She stopped, stunned, as she saw Danny stepping out.

Why had he gone upstairs?

He obviously hadn't seen her but was turning toward the rear of the hotel. He appeared intent on returning to the pool.

'Danny'

Danny stopped and turned abruptly at the sound of his name. He'd been preoccupied with his phone call from Mac. The man had rubber stamped his approach to the problem. Now if he could only feel he was doing the right thing…

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