“Wow. That looks good enough to eat,” she declared. “Where’s yours?”
“Very funny,” he chuckled, moving his chair closer so the rich pudding could be easily shared. “I want to know more about you, and it doesn’t have to be anything big. For example, what’s your favorite dessert?”
“I’m about to eat it. You can’t go past chocolate cake and ice cream, though I do like hot apple pie and custard.”
“That’s what we’ll have next. I love that too.”
“I know this small restaurant in one of the quieter streets in Piccadilly that has the best hot apple pie and custard you’ve ever tasted. It’s called The Sunflower. Do you know it?”
“I don’t. We should meet there for lunch. Let’s do that tomorrow.”
“I’d love to,” she said eagerly. “I haven’t been there for a while.”
“But none of your criminal activity while we’re there; in fact, never when I’m with you, is that clear?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, feigning indignation.
“Jane, maybe I shouldn’t ask you this,” he began, his voice becoming serious, “but don’t you worry about getting caught? Have you had any close calls, and what about people recognizing you in the street after you’ve scammed them? Another thing—why do you use your real name?”
“Of course I worry about someone catching me,” she exclaimed. “You did! That was a first, and it wasn’t pleasant.”
“Which part?”
“All of it, and yes, I also mean how you spanked me. It was totally embarrassing and it hurt like hell.”
“You’ll forgive me if I’m pleased to hear that.”
“I’d be surprised if you weren’t,” she sighed, “so yes, I do worry, and I’ve always been extremely careful, but now even more so.”
“I don’t mean to change the subject, and I do want to hear the answers to those other questions, but I have another one for you. You almost always wear gloves. Doesn’t that make it more difficult for you to pick a pocket?”
“Yes, it is more difficult. They have to be silk, very thin, and it takes a lot of practice, but it’s an ounce of prevention. I’m sure you know why I wear gloves most of the time. No policeman can take a glass I’ve picked up and whisk it into the fingerprint lab.”
“Of course, but I’m surprised you’re not worried that it will be noticed. I mean, I don’t know anyone who runs around wearing gloves all the time.”
“Everyone has a thing that they do. Sylvia Parker, for instance, has a fetish for earrings. Gaudy, expensive earrings, though I’m sure half of them are costume jewelry. Mine is gloves. Simple. What was the other question? Oh, yes, being recognized. I was very surprised that you knew me when you saw me at Candles, but then, you also nabbed me lifting your wallet. You’re the exception, Henry. I’ve been in that place a dozen times, I’ve sat at the bar, and you said yourself that the bartender thought I was familiar, but he didn’t know me. I’d bet you fifty quid if Sylvia, Amanda, or Susan ran into me at Harrods without my red wig and glasses, they’d just keep on walking.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’ve been doing this a long time, and I was taught by the best. People focus on big things, in this case, the red hair. That’s what they recognize. It’s the first thing they see, then the glasses. Take them away, and poof, I’m someone completely different, and I’ll prove it to you one of these days. There’s something else as well. I don’t do much work in the city.”
“But you were taking my wallet. I would have recognized you.”
“I would have returned it and you would have thought you’d dropped it in the street.”
“That’s so interesting, but what about using your real name?”
“Who said Jane is my real name?”
He stared at her. It hadn’t even occurred to him that it wasn’t.
“See what I mean? Generally speaking, people believe what you tell them.”
“Is Jane your real name?”
“Yes and no.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means it’s a name I’ve used for many years, and it’s who I consider myself to be, but it’s not the name given to me at birth. It’s not on any records. I change my last name sometimes, but I always keep Jane.”
“Heavens, who are you?”
“I see myself as Jane Campbell, even though it’s not my legal name. That other girl I left behind.”
“But what about all the legal bits of paper one needs to live? Your taxes? Your bills?”
“Henry, I understand why that logical mind of yours has a difficult time wrapping itself around all this, but anything is easy when you know how to do it. The system has all sorts of loopholes, and the government is so big, the left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing. Goodness, it barely knows what each of its fingers is doing.”
“You’re right, I am having a hard time wrapping my brain around it. May I ask, the house… is it yours?”
“I inherited it, and before you ask, all those lovely things you saw are completely legitimate. If you pick up that Russian cup and saucer, you’ll find a receipt underneath it, proof of where it was purchased and for how much. Every piece is the same, and has been photographed and catalogued, and copies of the receipts are safely stored outside the house.”
“Are the bills for the house in your name?”
“I think,” she said slowly. “I’ve probably said too much already, and I don’t know why I found it so easy to tell you as much as I have. It’s not like me.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, but it’s worrying and fascinating at the same time.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. It was nice to talk to about it with you. I know I can trust you, I can feel it.”
“Can I ask one last thing?”
“You can ask, though I might not answer.”
“The person you inherited the house from, I assume he’s the person you meant when you said you’d learned from the best?”
“He was.”
“So you must have been very close.”
“We were. He rescued me, literally, and took care of me. I lost him two years ago, and I miss him every single day.”
Henry heard the pain, and stroked his hand down her arm.
“I’m so sorry, Jane. He must have been a remarkable man.”
“He was, and he was honorable. That may sound strange, but he was.”
“I believe you.”
“It’s hard for me to talk about him.”
“Of course it is,” he said gently. “Why don’t we finish this chocolate cake, then snuggle in bed and watch some corny old TV show.”
“That’s a great suggestion,” she said, managing a smile. “To be honest, I can feel a big yawn coming on. I’m not sure how long I’ll last. This dizzy head thing makes me weary.”
“I’m sure. I can’t imagine walking around feeling out of balance.”
“It’s nothing now,” she smiled, “but at first, wow. Well, you were there!”
“Indeed.”
“But, uh, about staying the night…”
“Have you changed your mind?”
“No, no, but I brought nothing with me, and this might sound a bit strange, but I always take a shower before I go to bed. It helps me sleep.”
“I have everything you’ll need,” he promised. “You’ll see.”
Good to his word, a short time later Henry led her to one of his guest rooms, and showed her its en suite bathroom. It was supplied with a brand new toothbrush still in its plastic, paper-wrapped soap, and a robe hanging on a hook behind the door. After a quick shower, she padded back to his bedroom, and climbing into bed, she kissed him on the cheek and cuddled against him.
“That bathroom is like something in a hotel,” she remarked. “Do you have many overnight guests?”
“Not often, but the ones who do stay are important to my work. I want them to be comfortable.”
“You’re a v
ery interesting man, Henry Gibson,” she murmured sleepily.
“You said that before, but if anyone’s interesting around here, it’s you.”
“Not really,” she sighed, yawning again.
“Someone’s a tired girl.”
“So tired.”
“Drift off whenever you feel like it.”
“I will, I am.”
And she did. It was only a few minutes later that her breathing grew even and heavy. When he switched off the television, she didn’t stir, and when he turned out the bedside lamp, she mumbled something and slid further under the bedcovers. Staring down at her, he thought she looked like an angel. How did she end up in such a life? She wasn’t just smart, she was super-smart, extremely pretty, and spoke as though she’d had an excellent education. Maybe she did. As much as she had told him, he still knew nothing about her.
He knew he was getting involved with someone who could completely disrupt his life. She could end up being arrested, or worse. She lived in a criminal underworld. What about the people with whom she associated? Were they dangerous?
His feelings for her were strong, and he knew they’d only grow stronger. He had to find a way to extricate her from her life of crime, and he knew it wasn’t going to be easy. It was obvious she enjoyed what she did, she enjoyed it very much. His mind began to buzz, and of all the problems he’d ever faced, all the impossible calculations he had resolved, Henry knew that finding a way to convince Jane to change the direction of her life was going to be his ultimate challenge.
Chapter Ten
Jane had been woken up by the sound of the shower running, and as she reached for Henry’s pillow and hugged it into her chest, she smiled and sighed. In the early hours of the morning he had engulfed her in his arms, spooning her from behind, and half-asleep, she’d felt as if she was in a delicious dream as he’d tenderly made love to her. Following the soft, sweet orgasm, she had dozed back into a blissful slumber, thinking she must be the luckiest girl in all of England.
Stretching and yawning, she opened her eyes and saw the drapes had been opened. The windows were covered in dribbling rain. She often heard people grumbling about the wet weather, but she didn’t mind it. The sound of the shower turning off in the bathroom made her roll over and stare expectantly at the door. She remembered what his body had felt like, but she’d only seen a glimpse of it the night before when he had climbed out of bed to start the fire; it had been cold, the lights were off, and he’d pulled on his sweater as he’d walked across the room.
“Good morning,” he smiled, opening the door and padding across to the bed.
He was wearing cotton navy boxers, and Jane studied his tantalizingly toned body. He was fit, very fit, and though she’d known he was in good shape, she hadn’t realized just how good.
“What are you staring at?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and smoothing a few stray hairs from her face.
“I’m staring at you!”
“I can see that.”
“How often do you work out? I didn’t notice these muscles before,” she purred, running her hand down his arms, “and I love your chest. No wonder clothes look so good on you. If you went to a proper hairdresser instead of a barber, you’d be one handsome dude.”
“Talk about a backhanded compliment,” he chuckled, raising his eyebrows. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted, and handsome dude? Where did that come from? I’m not sure I want to be a handsome dude, and how do you know I go to a barbershop?”
“Sorry,” she laughed. “I did mean it as a compliment. Last question first. Barbershop haircuts are obvious; they’re pretty much all the same. As for the term handsome dude, I’ve been watching a TV show about surfers. I guess it stuck, but seriously, I don’t think you know how good-looking you are. With some fine-tuning, you’d be a head turner.”
“I doubt that.”
“Now that I think about it, maybe you should stay just as you are. I’m not sure I want other women fawning all over you.”
“I don’t think that’s something you’ll have to worry about,” he said modestly, though he was deeply flattered by her compliment. “Now, young lady, I have to get myself moving, and so do you. Are you a breakfast person?”
“Not really, just toast and tea. Are you sure you need to get ready right now?” she mewled, trailing her fingers down his body to his crotch.
Henry caught his breath. Her fingers tickled over him, the light, sensuous touch sending energy through his loins, and fighting the temptation to yank off his shorts, rip back the bedcovers and totally ravage her, he took hold of her hand and moved it away.
“Very sure,” he said firmly, gritting his teeth, “and now I’m going to disappear into my closet and get dressed.”
“Kiss me first?”
“No, I don’t trust you, not for a second,” he declared, rising from the bed, wishing he could do exactly what she wanted. “You are far too tempting!”
“I am? Good to know.”
“You’re also a very cheeky girl.”
“No, really? You’re sounding like a broken record.”
“I rest my case!”
“And you, Henry Gibson,” she softly murmured, slowly slipping the blanket down to expose her breasts, “are one incredibly sexy man. Are you sure you won’t come back under these covers and join me? Just for a teensy, weensy cuddle?”
Staring at her luscious mounds and their pink rosebud nipples, he could feel a hot fever gripping him. She was like a siren on the rocks, luring him with her charms.
“You need to get out of that bed!” he growled and yanked back the bed covers, revealing her delectably naked body.
“What are you doing?” she squealed, but as she scrambled after the blankets she abruptly changed her mind, and grabbing the elastic waist of his shorts she yanked them down, then wrapped her fingers around his stiffening shaft.
“You are such a bad girl,” he grunted, aching to clutch her hair and send her mouth to suck his needy member, but knowing he absolutely had to get to work, he reached out and sharply tweaked her nipple.
“Ouch. Why did you do that?” she protested, jumping back and grabbing her breast.
“You know exactly why,” he said sternly, and grasping her wrist, he dropped on the bed and skillfully jerked her over his lap.
“Aaaargh, what are you doing?” she wailed, her hands flailing and her legs kicking as he wrestled her into position.
“Painting a fence,” he retorted. “What do you think I’m doing?”
He landed a series of stinging smacks, causing her to yelp loudly, but to his shock she suddenly burst into a fit of giggles.
“Funny? You think this is funny?” he exclaimed, momentarily pausing his hand, but as she continued to laugh and writhe on his lap, he found her bout of hysteria was contagious. “You!” he declared, delivering a hard smack, “are a total miscreant!”
“But I’m a cute one, aren’t I?” she tittered, looking at him over her shoulder.
“A cute one who’s going to go about her day with a very sore backside,” he decreed, sending his hand back to work.
“Ow, ow, ow, stop, Henry, please!” she begged between giggles as his flattened palm slapped its way from cheek to cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think you are, not a bit. You’re still laughing too much to be sorry,” he scolded, delivering several smarting spanks across her sit spot.
“No! Stop! I am.”
“Are you going to get up now?” he demanded, staring down at her bottom, trying to decide if it was sufficiently reddened.
“What if I were to tempt fate and refuse?” she asked breathlessly, grinning at him as she moved her hand behind herself to rub her hot skin.
“Do you really need to ask me that?” he asked, raising his eyebrow in disbelief.
“No, but this is fun!”
“I’ll remind you that you said that later,” he warned, summoning up his most threatening voice.
Unceremo
niously pushing her off his lap, he rose to his feet, locked her eyes for a second, then disappeared into his walk-in closet, closing the door behind him.
Jane rolled onto her back and, closing her eyes, placed her hand against her sex. She was soaking, and though her backside was hot and stinging, he had sent a warm, wonderful longing through her entire being.
“Oh, my gosh, where did you come from, Henry Gibson? You are the sexiest man ever.”
A short time later, they were sitting across from each other sharing a pot of tea and munching down some toast covered in strawberry jam. She was a rebellious spitfire, but she was also adorable, and he wished he could call his office, feign sickness, then take her back to the bedroom and keep her there all day.
Jane was feeling much the same. When Henry held her in his arms she felt at peace and safe, and never wanted to leave them. Her efforts at pulling him back into bed had failed, and she was sitting on a sore bottom because of them, but the entire episode had left her with an odd sense of satisfaction. Henry made her happy in ways she’d never experienced. Henry was special, very special.
“What’s on your agenda today,” he asked, not sure if he wanted to know, “besides meeting me for lunch, I mean?”
“I need to recover from your unprovoked assault,” she declared.
“You are incorrigible.”
“So I’ve been told,” she giggled.
“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to know what you’ve got planned.”
“Probably best,” she nodded. “We don’t want you becoming an accomplice-after-the-fact.”
“Good heavens,” he sighed, her reminder that she lived her life outside the law not a comforting one. “How are you feeling? Any dizziness this morning?”
“No, thank goodness. None, though I do feel a bit tired. I’ll probably take a nap when I get home.”
“Lucky girl.”
“There is something to be said for being your own boss, though it does have its drawbacks from time to time.”
“Like looking over your shoulder all day? Worried that someone’s going to knock on your door and slap a pair of handcuffs around your wrists?”
Reforming Jane Page 8