The Fiancée Caper

by Maureen Child

  Gianni scrubbed both hands across his face. “Jean Luc’s staying in the older hotel on the island. The one owned by Rico’s cousin Sean’s wife’s grandfather.”

  She shook her head as if confused.

  “Yes, I know. Convoluted. Anyway, he’s staying there, but he’s been here at Rico’s place, too. Security’s spotted him on the grounds and we’re going to try to catch him tonight.”

  “If he hasn’t stolen anything yet, how can you capture him?”

  He huffed out a breath. “It’s like they do at casinos when they see a known thief. He hasn’t done anything in their place yet, but his reputation is enough to see him escorted out.”

  “Fine. They escort him out and off the island, I guess.”

  “Exactly.” He nodded briefly. “It’s a privately owned island, they can throw him off if they wish.”

  “But first you have to catch him and I can help with that,” she argued, planting both fists at her hips. “I’m another set of eyes.”

  She was far more than that, Gianni thought, trying to keep his mind on the problem at hand rather than the body he wanted to hold. He was caught in a trap of his own making. This whole thing had been his idea. The pretense of an engagement. Staying in close quarters, where the very thought of her sleeping on a chaise only a few feet from his bed was making him a little more insane every day.

  She sighed and he hungered. She laughed and he needed. She kissed him and set fire to all of the dark, empty corners inside him. Dark corners that had been with him so long, he’d ceased even being aware of them years ago. But Marie had made him notice them again. Made him realize that his life hadn’t been as full as he’d told himself. He was too much alone. Too insular, even from the family he loved.

  But now there was her. And he didn’t know what the hell to do about it. Pushing back the racing thoughts careening through his mind, he snapped.

  “And if he sees you first? Then what?” Gianni threw his hands high. “Even Jean Luc isn’t stupid enough to believe that your being here on the eve of an exclusive jewelry show is a coincidence.”

  She muttered something dark under her breath then said aloud, “Why shouldn’t I be here?”

  Gianni snorted. “And did your security job pay well enough that you could afford a vacation on Tesoro?”

  Her mouth twisted. “No, but for all he knows I could have family money. What does it matter if he sees me?”

  “Thieves are superstitious,” he told her, grasping at straws to keep her away from Jean Luc. He didn’t need the thief panicking at the sight of her. “Bad thieves are even more so. If Jean Luc sees you here, he’ll bolt—he’ll run without making a play for the jewels. And if he does that,” he added, hoping this would be enough to convince her, “he might even close down his place in Monaco and disappear. Then how will we get your necklace back?”

  Not that he really believed that. If anything, Jean Luc would run straight to his home on Monaco’s coast and probably hole up until the next tempting job came up. But Marie didn’t know that.

  Behind her, the French doors were open, allowing the wind and sun to slide into the room. She was backlit and there was a nimbus of golden light along every line of her body. If he were a fanciful man he would have thought she looked like something that stepped out of a dream world.

  Since he was more pragmatic than that, Gianni only thought that she was the stuff dreams were made of. Her skin was smooth and silky; her hair tumbled around her face in a cluster of loose curls and waves. Everything about her was tempting. Even the flash of anger in her eyes and the defiant tilt of her chin.

  She gritted her teeth. Jaw tight, she folded her arms across her chest and unconsciously lifted her breasts so high they threatened to spill from behind the small triangles of fabric. His mouth watered, his hands itched to touch her, and so he folded his hands into fists at his sides to keep from giving in to that urge.

  “Fine. You win this one. I won’t go with you to the jewelry show.”

  “Good.” Battle won.

  “But make sure you talk to Rico about the possibility of blind spots in the camera angles,” she added.

  “We already discussed that with Franklin Hicks the other day, remember?”

  “Right.” She took a breath and blew it out on a long sigh of frustration. “So now I get to play damsel in distress or something is that it? Stay tucked away while the big strong men take care of everything?”

  “Thank you very much. I do work out.”

  She just stared at him for a long minute and then laughed helplessly. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “So I’ve been told. Repeatedly.”

  Shaking her hair back from her face, she stomped furiously across the room and into the adjoining bath. When she came back out into the main room, she was wearing a thick, white terry-cloth robe provided by the hotel. She tied the belt around her waist and Gianni wanted to both thank her and beg her to take it off again.

  The woman was turning his brain to jelly.

  “I really hate this.”

  “I know,” he said. “But look at it this way. If we catch Jean Luc, we can force him to give you the necklace.”

  “How?”

  “I can be very persuasive,” he assured her. “Catching Jean Luc snooping around an exclusive jewelry exhibition will not be good for him. The threat of alerting Interpol to his presence could be enough to get him to see things our way.”

  “Could be,” she repeated.

  “Sì,” he murmured, then added, “Jean Luc has not been as careful in his past as the Coretti family. He has a record and won’t want the police talking to him.” Now that Marie was wearing a robe, his brain could work again and now that they had the issue of her keeping a distance from Jean Luc settled, there was something else he wanted to know. “When Rico and I joined you and my sister on the patio, I got the impression that we had interrupted something.”

  “No,” she said, turning away to walk out onto the terrace.

  Gianni didn’t believe her. He followed, enjoying the heat of the sun and the cool kiss of the wind, not to mention the sight of Marie, standing against the iron railing while that wind teased her hair into a dark halo about her head.

  “You were right, you know,” he said.

  She looked at him. “About what?”

  “When we first met, you told me you weren’t a very good liar. You’re not.” He joined her at the rail. “What were you and Teresa talking about?”

  “Truths,” she said, tipping her head up to look at him. “I told her the truth. That we’re not engaged—”

  She surprised him. Again. He hadn’t thought she would admit anything for fear of putting herself in a poor light. Yet perhaps he should have expected that her bone-deep honesty would win out in the end. “You told her that you blackmailed me.”

  “Yes.” Sighing, Marie added, “Your sister’s so nice I felt hideous lying to her.”

  He shook his head. “I understand. But, Teresa will tell Paulo and our father.”

  “So what?” she asked, shrugging as if she were dropping a heavy weight off her shoulders. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? I’ll still be your cover for Interpol—though how it’s going to work if you don’t let me attend the show I don’t know—”

  “Once we catch Jean Luc that will change.”

  “If you catch Jean Luc.”

  “Leave Jean Luc to me. I know how he thinks.” Then he said, “You shouldn’t have told Teresa. I didn’t want the family to know that there was a threat against Papa.”

  “Your sister is pretty relentless,” Marie said, slumping a little against the railing in front of her. “She knew something was wrong and she wouldn’t let it go.”

  He shifted his gaze from her to the wide sweep of the ocean stretching out in front of them. Sailboats
skimmed the surface of the water and tanned bodies, stretched out on towels, littered the sand.

  “Truth,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “It’s overrated.”

  She laughed a little. “Figures a thief would think so.”

  He looked at her and waited for her to meet his gaze before whispering, “Ex-thief.”

  “Right,” she said, a smile curving her mouth. “I keep forgetting.” Turning, she braced one hip against the railing. “Well, here’s another truth. Since your family knows about us, we don’t have to share this suite. We can have separate rooms.”

  “Oh, didn’t I tell you?” He reached out and pushed at the edge of her robe, sliding it over her shoulder until the top of her breast was bared. She went absolutely still. He slid his fingertips across the flesh exposed, making her shiver while at the same time, sending a shaft of blazing heat to his groin. “The hotel is booked solid. There are no more rooms.”

  She sucked in a breath and held it.

  “Looks as though we’re stuck with each other.”

  “For now,” she said.

  “Now is all that matters.” He moved in on her, and to please himself—and yes, maybe heighten the torture holding him in its grip—he bent his head and kissed her.

  He hadn’t meant it to be more than a brief meeting of lips. But the moment his mouth claimed hers, it became more. So much more. Heat and light flashed through him and had him grabbing hold of her, pulling her in close and tight until her breasts were flush against his chest and he would have sworn he could feel her heartbeat pounding in time with his.

  She moved into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him as she kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his. He tasted her breath and sensed her need mounting with his and that fed the flames threatening to engulf him.

  There on the terrace, their bodies locked together, Gianni took everything she was willing to give and silently asked for more. He had the feeling that no matter how close he held her it would never be close enough. No matter how deep the kiss, he would want deeper. His body ached for hers. His mind was a rush of thought and color and sensation and if he didn’t pull away now, he told himself wildly, he never would be able to.

  With that thought uppermost in his mind, Gianni broke the kiss that was killing him and rested his forehead against hers until he had his breathing back under control.

  “Well, then,” she whispered after a long moment, “I guess there’s a lot to be said for now.”

  * * *

  “Papa’s not going to jail.” Gianni held his cell phone in one tight fist and scowled at the night as his brother shouted into his ear.

  For the last three hours, he had mingled with the crowd celebrating the opening of the jewelry exhibition. Gianni and Rico’s security force had become a part of that crowd, though separate. He had watched, listened, slipped into and out of shadows, all the while watching for possible problems as well as for Jean Luc Baptiste. He’d found nothing. If Jean Luc were here tonight, he had become a master of disguise in the last year.

  Gianni felt the same tension that used to be his constant companion when on a job. But this tension vibrated at another level. The same and yet different. And as if he weren’t tense enough already, this conversation with his brother would put the finishing touches on it.

  “Teresa told me everything,” Paulo repeated and Gianni rolled his eyes. He’d known this would happen. As soon as Marie admitted confessing all to his sister, Gianni had been half expecting this phone call. It was only a wonder it had taken Paulo so long. Gianni walked along the edge of the terrace, with the showroom behind him. He wasn’t sorry to leave the crush of elegant people even if it meant dealing with his younger brother.

  “She’s blackmailing you!” Paulo’s voice got louder and Gianni pulled the phone from his ear. “She holds evidence against our father and you’re sleeping with her?”

  “I’m not—” Gianni stopped himself and took a breath. Damned if he would admit that he hadn’t yet gotten Marie into bed. “It’s none of your business, brother, who I sleep with.”

  “It is when thinking with your cazzo threatens the family.”

  Gianni flushed with fury. Eyes wild, he turned away from the dazzling showroom behind him and focused on the black ocean shot with moonlight. He studied each of those shards of light rippling on the water in order to focus the anger churning inside him.

  Thankfully, he was alone on the stone terrace, with everyone else hovering around display tables and talking to the designers. Champagne was flowing like a river and Gianni knew that no one inside was going to miss him.

  “You think I would risk our father’s safety?” Gianni demanded in a strained hush to avoid being overheard by anyone who might choose to step through the French doors. “I’m the one trying to get you and Papa to give up thieving so you can avoid jail altogether.”

  “Changing the subject, Gianni?”

  “Not changing, reminding you of who is the older brother,” he snapped. “You don’t lecture me, Paulo, on what I do for our family.”

  There was a long, silent moment and Gianni could almost see Paulo calming down. Yes, the man had a hot temper and a short fuse but that anger never lasted long, either.

  “Fine. But Papa and I will be there in a day or so and I want to meet this woman.”

  Gianni’s gaze focused on the beach. Moonlight was bright enough to make out the figure of a lone woman walking along the shoreline. His gaze narrowed on the woman and it only took him a second or two to recognize Marie.

  She was supposed to stay in the suite. Did the woman never listen to him?

  “You will meet her,” Gianni said. “And you will be pleasant or I will not be happy.”

  “I’m always pleasant!” Paulo sounded outraged.

  Gianni snorted. “Like now, you mean? You shout and bellow and I’m to take that as ‘pleasant’?”

  “We’re Italian, Gianni,” his brother said. “Shouting is expected.”

  Another lone figure walked the sand, Gianni noticed. A man. And he was headed right toward Marie. She was staring out to sea and not aware of the man’s approach. In his head, Gianni knew that she was safe here on Tesoro. Yet, his heart worried. And his senses were suddenly going on alert. Frowning, Gianni watched as the man continued to get nearer to her. Something about him bothered Gianni enough that he said, “Ciao, Paulo,” and shut his phone off before dropping it into his pants pocket.

  It was probably nothing. Yet before he even thought about it, he had vaulted over the railing and hit the sand at a run.

  * * *

  Marie hated being shut out of what was happening at the showroom. She had experience, sharp eyes and skills that could have been of help. Instead, she’d been closed up in her room like a child while the adults took care of the situation. There was too much cop in her to risk ruining an operation by showing up where she wasn’t expected, so she didn’t go to the jewelry show even though it was killing her not to.

  But at the same time, she refused to be locked away, either. She was going stir-crazy in the hotel suite, wondering what was happening, so finally she’d decided to go down to the beach. As long as she stayed clear of the showroom, it shouldn’t be a problem. After all, Jean Luc wasn’t here to steal grains of sand, now was he?

  But to be honest, she admitted, Jean Luc wasn’t the one taking up a lot of her thoughts. It was Gianni. She stopped at the water’s edge and let the incoming tide slide across her toes in a warm, silky caress before rushing back to the sea.

  That kiss. What was she supposed to make of it?

  He touched her and she burned, he kissed her and she went completely up in flames. She thought maybe Teresa was right. Maybe he did care for her and she was willing to admit that yes, she cared for him, too. But it wasn’t real, was it? It couldn’t be. It was
too far away from normalcy for Marie to think there was anything beyond this moment in time for she and Gianni.

  She hadn’t even known him a week, yet it felt as though she’d known him forever. How was that even possible? How could she feel so much for a man who hadn’t been a part of her life two weeks before? And how could she pretend to believe that any of it meant anything? This wasn’t real life. This wasn’t her world.

  She was standing in a playground for the rich and famous, daydreaming about a jewel thief turned good guy. How could any of it be real?

  “I knew it was you.”

  Her breath caught and she whirled around at the sound of that familiar voice. Moonlight splashed across the man’s features and just for a moment, Marie wondered how she had ever thought him to be handsome. His blond hair was too thin, too long, his blue eyes too bland and his jaw and chin looked weak. He wasn’t even as tall as she remembered. “Hello, Jean Luc.”

  Strolling toward her as if he were lord of the beach, he swept her up and down. “Why are you so far from home, Marie? And why are you here with Gianni Coretti?”

  She took a breath, planning to lie, but he must have seen it because he shook his head. “Don’t bother. I saw the two of you together yesterday.”

  Well, then staying in her room would have been pointless even if she had actually done it, Marie reasoned.

  “Why, Marie?” he demanded, his voice low, his eyes narrowed on her as he came closer. His French accent seemed thicker somehow when he continued. “Why are you here? With him?”

  Marie subtly shifted her feet in the sand, taking up a defensive posture—just in case. She was alone down here on the beach and if Jean Luc tried anything, she was going to be ready for it. Though the man had never struck her as dangerous. Just a miserable, lying, cheating thief.