by Kay Hooper
“Troy, I know—I believe—that the kind of job you did tonight is a necessary one. There are loopholes in our justice system that tie the hands of the police in some cases, and a lot of innocent people are hurt by them.”
He took a deep breath and looked at her levelly. “But I can’t live with the knowledge of your being in that kind of danger. I just can’t. If tonight had gone—according to plan, maybe I wouldn’t have realized it so clearly for a while. Maybe I would have convinced myself that the danger was slight—for a while. But not for long.
“Tonight didn’t go according to plan though. I saw the danger to you, and I know that I can’t live with it.” Dallas hesitated, then smiled a small and crooked smile. “But I promised, didn’t I? So I’m not going to ask you to quit. And please understand that I’m not trying emotional blackmail by telling you that I can’t take it. I’m being as honest as I know how.”
He gazed at her intently. “But I want to ask you something else, sweetheart. I want to ask you…if there’s time in your life for us.”
She returned his look, a slow realization growing in her own, and Dallas nodded slightly.
“You see it, too, don’t you? Troy, you fill your life to bursting with your work and with helping people. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But there’s you, too. Me. Us. I think we’re pretty important. I think we deserve the time to build our lives together.”
“Something has to…go,” she said slowly.
“Don’t think of it that way,” he insisted quietly.
“Look at all the people you’ve helped. Remember that some of the world’s most beautiful and precious art objects are with their rightful owners because of you. You believed that you could make a difference and you did. But that was a part of your life that was never meant to last forever. It’s something you should always remember with pride because you cared enough to fight against a problem. Remember it—and go on.”
His hand tightened on hers. “Share my life, sweetheart. You won’t be less than you are; you could never be that.” His free hand lifted to cup her cheek warmly. “I love you, Troy.”
Troy stared at him, a deeper understanding in her eyes. But she couldn’t put it into words just yet, and she needed somehow to put it into words. Leaning forward, she slipped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. “I think,” she murmured softly, feeling his arms go around her, “I’ve made my choice. But I have to work it through. D’you mind?”
After a moment Dallas rose easily, holding her in his arms. “I don’t mind. Just…stay with me while you’re working it through.”
She held on to him tightly as he carried her upstairs to their bed.
Days passed, and if Dallas was troubled by Troy’s silence on the subject of their future together, he said nothing about it. The demands of their respective companies reared their heads a few days later, giving both of them a thoughtful new perspective on their compatibility.
Having tagged along during some of Troy’s very full days, Dallas invited her to accompany him to his office whenever she could; since her hours were flexible, she usually accepted.
At the office Troy observed for the first time the full force of his personality as he directed a large staff and the company’s work on government contracts. With her background in electronics, she found his job far from alien, and she got to ask questions about another part of a scientific, technical business that had always fascinated her.
She became a familiar figure around his office, getting to know most of his staff and causing havoc, Dallas swore, to his self-control.
“Should I leave?” she asked politely when he made the accusation.
Dallas, who’d just closed the door to his office, rather pointedly locked it before crossing the room to join her on the comfortable couch along one wall. “Don’t you dare,” he said firmly.
“It isn’t five o’clock yet,” she protested weakly a moment later.
“So?”
“I thought we were going to be businesslike during the day.”
“Best-laid plans…”
“Dallas? Darling, the gossip columns are having a field day with us now; d’you want your staff to join the throng in speculation?”
“They already have.” He was busily exploring her throat.
“They have? Uh…what’re they doing?”
“Betting. I’m not supposed to know about it, you understand, but there’s a rather large bet on the date of the wedding.”
Troy was going to ask him what the odds-on favorite was, but somehow or other she forgot about it….
Not content just to sit in his office, Dallas was usually right in the thick of things. He spent time in the labs, consulting with his engineers and technicians, going over design specifications and the like. And he didn’t think twice about rolling up his sleeves and working beside his people.
Troy spent a large amount of her time at his office just watching him. She saw that his staff respected both his business acumen and his knowledge of electronics and that they liked him. And she saw further evidence of what she already knew—that he was a fair and just man, hearing all sides of a disagreement before making a decision.
During these times, Troy finally worked through her own decision. She’d thought long and hard, not only because the decision had to be made but because she wanted to understand her reasons for making the choice she did. The most important reason, of course, was that she loved Dallas. And she’d finally realized that there was nothing so important in her life that it could overshadow her love for him.
She thought about what he’d said about her nocturnal outings, weighing each word with care. The selfless motives he’d attributed to her work were, she knew, not entirely accurate. Searching herself ruthlessly, she knew that while she had a genuine desire to help people, she’d also derived an enormous satisfaction from pitting her wits and her strength against the odds.
And yet…Troy knew that Dallas was right in saying that she’d never meant to go on doing that work forever. Life depended on change: she knew that as well as anyone. And as long as she was being truthful in her inner searching, she admitted to herself that she no longer felt a sense of eagerness when confronted by a job. Perhaps the years brought caution; perhaps the dangers that had sharpened her wits once now gave her pause. She still believed that it was a necessary kind of work, but she began to wonder if there could be an easier way to accomplish it.
In the meantime she stayed with Dallas in his home and reveled in learning the joys of loving and being loved. She discovered how delightful it was to be awakened with kisses, to share a tubful of bubbles, to have a warm and loving man to cuddle up to at night. She grew to understand that she felt more of a woman with Dallas beside her.
There was always a laugh on the tip of her tongue, and never enough time for all the things she wanted to tell him. And the thought of living without him was something she could no longer conceive of.
They spent the weekend together alone, just talking and sharing their ideas. When Dallas tentatively mentioned that he’d often thought of incorporating the development of security systems into his company, Troy decided abruptly that she was being an absolute idiot with all her hesitating.
“I’ve been thinking,” she murmured, lying comfortably beside him on big pillows in front of the fireplace, “about security systems too.”
“And?”
“Well, the police are always stressing prevention, right?”
“Right.” He was idly playing with her fingers and watching her thoughtful face.
“So I was thinking,” she mused, “that maybe I should concentrate on that part of the problem. Prevention, I mean. It wouldn’t solve the problem, but it’d go a long way toward helping, don’t you think?”
Suddenly very still, Dallas said carefully, “I think it would. But then…I’m biased.”
“You certainly are.” Troy looked at him gravely. “You gave me a lot of very nice motives for having become a cat bu
rglar, and I’d like to think you were at least partly right. But you didn’t mention some of the selfish reasons.”
He smiled a little. “You mean the excitement, the adventure of it?”
She nodded. “That was a very large part of it, Dallas.”
“Was?”
“I—don’t need that anymore. The five years were thoroughly enjoyable, and I wouldn’t change them if I could. But you were right; those years are over. You asked me if—if there’d be time for us, and I know now that nothing is more important than making sure of that.”
“Troy…” He held her hand tightly.
“Marry me?”
Her free hand lifted to touch his cheek. “Are you kidding?” she said shakily. “I’d be an idiot to pass up the deal you’re offering, darling. And even though I’ve acted like an idiot, I’m not one. I love you, more and more each day. I want to share the rest of my life with you.”
Dallas released her hand only to sweep her into his arms, a rumbling groan of relief and happiness escaping. “Thank God. Oh, sweetheart, I was so afraid…. I knew how important your work was to you—”
“Not as important as you,” she murmured huskily. “Not as important as us. I love you, Dallas. I think I loved you from that very first meeting. Why else would I have trusted you with the painting?”
He laughed unsteadily. “And you’ve been a thorn in my flesh since that night; more, you’ve been a maddening, impossible disease in my blood.”
Troy giggled suddenly. “That sounds terrible.”
“It was terrible,” he whispered, his lips trailing fire down her throat. “And wonderful…and unforgettable….”
“Mmm…darling?”
“Sweetheart?”
“How would you like a business partner?” she mused, barely able to keep her mind on her own words.
Dallas rose to his feet, pulling her up as well. “Why not?” He grinned at her. “You already own stock in the company.”
“I didn’t tell you that!”
“No, you little witch; you didn’t. I had to read it in one of those gossip columns.”
“Uh…sorry about that, darling.”
“You should be. It was a terrible shock.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
He frowned down at her severely. “No? How would it look in a stockholders’ report that a former cat burglar owned stock in the company?”
“You’ll have a version of the same problem,” she pointed out, “if it ever becomes known that your wife is a former cat burglar.”
Dallas showed her an exaggerated wince. “I’ll be a nervous wreck for seven years.”
“Seven years?”
“The statute of limitations, remember?”
Troy looked thoughtful. “I’d forgotten that. I suppose I should really do the decent thing and stay out of your life for seven—” She broke off abruptly as she found herself tossed over his shoulder and swatted punishingly on the fanny.
“On the other hand,” she murmured in a laugh-filled voice, “who wants to do the decent thing?”
Dallas started purposefully for the stairs. “My sentiments exactly, sweetheart; nobility bores me.”
“Which house will we live in?” she asked idly quite some time later as they lay in a lamplit bedroom. “It makes no sense to keep them both.”
“I’ll leave it up to you,” Dallas said over a huge yawn.
“That’s not fair; you’ll have to live there too!”
“She’s being demanding already,” he told the celling ruefully.
“Dallas…”
“We’ll flip a coin.” When she punched him weakly in the ribs, he relented and said more seriously, “I thought you’d probably want to keep your house, since it belonged to your parents.”
“Not really. They loved the place, but didn’t really spend much time there.”
“Mmm. Well, there’s no hurry about deciding, is there?”
“No. But I should warn you that Bryce has been with the family all my life.”
“I’ve always wanted a classy English butler. What about Jamie?”
“Jamie,” Troy said dryly, “has informed me that he’s going to Ireland to spend some time with his family, after which he proposes to take a cruise around the world.”
“Tactful, isn’t he?”
“Yes. But, Dallas—I’d like to ask him to live with us when he eventually comes back.”
“’Sfine with me. Between the two of us, we might even be able to keep you out of trouble.”
“I resent that.”
“I thought you would.”
A sudden thought occurred to Troy. “I wonder how Bryce and Mrs. Bradley will get along?”
“Fine. Unless he tries to get her drunk.”
Troy was still giggling when Dallas turned out the lamp on the nightstand and pulled her even closer to his side.
TEN
“I REALIZE,” DALLAS said carefully, “that no one at the party could have entertained their suspicions for more than a few fleeting seconds. You understand that I realize that, don’t you?”
Troy, sitting cross-legged on their bed, a scantily dressed Buddha in an overlarge football jersey, nodded solemnly as she watched her husband pacing energetically back and forth in front of her. “I understand that you realize that,” she confirmed sedately.
Dallas kept pacing. “I mean, just because several of your onetime victims were there is no reason for me to become unduly alarmed, right?”
“Right.”
“After all, who in his right mind could believe for one moment that Troy Bennett Cameron could be—or had ever been—a thief? She’s a wealthy woman in her own right, married to a wealthy husband, a partner in a very successful company. She’s beautiful, very brilliant, and very much a lady. And, to top it all, she’s extremely philanthropic. Who’d ever think she could possibly have been a thief?”
“Who’d ever think?” Troy parroted faithfully.
“So I realize that if anyone did entertain those ridiculous suspicions, it could only have been briefly.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But I do think, sweetheart,” he said, “that for you to appear at a masquerade ball wearing the outfit and tools of a cat burglar was pushing things. Just a bit.”
“At the time,” Troy murmured apologetically,
“it seemed the thing to do.”
“And then,” Dallas went on conversationally, still pacing, “to lightheartedly demonstrate just how easy it is to pick a lock, open a safe, and bypass a security system—”
“Tommy’s punch. It makes me reckless.”
“—seemed to me to be an act far beneath your normal standards of intelligence.”
“That’ll teach you to work late,” she said with obscure satisfaction.
Dallas stopped pacing and, hands on hips, stared down at his erring wife with heroic patience. “It certainly will; I’ll never again meet you at a party rather than accompany you from home. And what, may I ask, happened to Joan of Arc?”
“The armor was awkward,” she explained.
“So you decided to go as Troy Bennett, cat burglar par excellence?”
“Madness, I know,” she said sadly.
“That’s your excuse?”
“Well, there was the thought that it might help drum up business.”
“For the police?”
She ignored that splendidly. “And it worked too. Cy Kincaid wants to talk to us Monday about a security system for his home.”
“Is this the same Cy Kincaid,” Dallas asked politely, “you relieved of one rather priceless golden figurine a year before you met me?”
“That’s him,” Troy confirmed sunnily.
Dallas made a muffled sound indicative of despair.
“You did say for better or worse,” she reminded gently.
“But not for insanity.”
“Sorry.”
“And I thought you refused to install security for these art-at-any-price types.”
He stared at her suspiciously. “How do you know?”
“A little bird told me.”
“Troy…”
“Interpol; they’ve been watching him ever since. And besides, Dallas, when we install his system, I’ll go into my spiel about how no system is foolproof, and about how there’s an information network among thieves. And assure him very seriously that the most vulnerable victim of theft in the world is one who can’t yell about his loss to the police.”
Dallas addressed the ceiling plaintively. “She just keeps stoking the fire beneath us….”
Wifelike, Troy ignored that. “A little extra preventive medicine can’t hurt.”
“Take your own advice,” he suggested ruefully.
“Are you nervous, darling?”
“The possibility of losing my adored wife to our justice system affects me like that,” he explained.
“Cat burglars are almost never caught; did you know that? Robbers, yes, but not cat burglars. We’re a special breed.”
“With special immunity?”
“You’re being paranoid, darling. We’ve been married a year, and nobody’s found out yet, have they?”
“Until tonight you maintained a certain—discretion, shall we say?”
“I said I was sorry.”
He sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands.
Troy swallowed a giggle. “You have to admit that it’s been an exciting year.”
“Oh…certainly,” he murmured, lifting his head and looking at her with an expression somewhere between mildly bemused and totally petrified. “It certainly has. D’you realize that a year and some-odd weeks ago, I led a perfectly lawful existence?”
“And now you’re married to a former cat burglar,” she sympathized. “How the mighty are fallen.”
“Don’t rub it in.”
Politely she asked, “D’you want a divorce? You seem to be leading up to that.”
“No, I’m merely leading up to a request.”
“Really? What is it?”
“Let’s avoid masquerades from now on, all right?”
“Of course, darling.”
“And ex-victims.”