“I have a sore back. I threw it out last night.”
“Please, don’t tell me how.”
“Playing rough hockey, not hazardous horizontal mambo.” Craig grinned at Rob and stuck out his hand. “Have we met before, dude?” he asked.
“Rob’s a friend of Mary’s. And I mean that lightly,” Jane said. “Rob, this is Craig Armstrong. Craig meet Robert Murphy, your current rival for the eligible ladies the other night at the gala.”
“You look weirdly familiar to me, man,” Craig said.
“Maybe like some geeky guy you knew in high school,” Rob said. “I get that a lot. You look familiar to me, too”
“Never went to high school. Too busy getting high in those days. I act in commercials. Some movies. Maybe you’ve seen them.” Craig almost preened. “And my face is on some bus stop benches. The real estate thing I do so’s I can eat.”
Craig asked Rob if he wanted a beer. Before he could answer, Riley broke in. “He’s eaten a ton. He was just walking me up here for some reason. Robert has this totally silly idea, after knowing me less than forty-eight hours, that I’m some kind of helpless wimp.”
Obviously enjoying himself, Craig said in a stage whisper. “Well, she hates spiders, you know, and there are a few other wimp traits about this chick that I could name offhand--”
“Shut up, Craig. Thank you, Rob.” She extended her hand to Robert like a guy might do. He looked down at it with what appeared to be amusement. Oh, she was sorry again when his warm, rough palm wrapped around hers. “Maybe I’ll run into you again before you have to return to Toronto,” she said, hoping he got the hint.
“But not if you can help it?” Rob fired back at her.
“Is there some unresolved sexual tension here?” Craig teased. He looked fascinated. As an actor he loved any kind of drama and he could make it out of any situation. As for Riley, she just wanted to get away from Robert Murphy and into the oblivion of a hot bath in Craig’s massive tub.
“Bye, Robert,” she said with meaning.
Rob backed out the door. “Thanks for taking me to dinner... um... Riley. Nice to meet you, too, Craig,” he said, his words swallowed as she rolled shut the heavy door.
Oh, God, he’d heard her real name and used it. Lighten up, she told herself. It didn’t matter.
“I take it you’re hot for this guy?” Craig drawled. “That would be the reason you’re treating him like he has virulent herpes?”
“What do you mean by that?” Riley crossed her arms over her chest.
“I talking about this frantic urge to get away from him, slamming doors in his face. What’s that all about? And since that was the dude who was my nemesis at the gala last--”
“Mary found him. I want nothing to do with him. Anyway, he’s--Get this!--looking for a beautiful, wealthy, socially acceptable, young woman to bear his children.”
“Well, Rye... your qualifying in two out of four categories ain’t bad.”
Riley whacked Craig on the arm as she moved into his ultra modern living space. She flopped on the modular sofa.
“Ouch. I was joking. You are young and beautiful and you do have those ever-popular child-bearing hips, Riley Jane.”
“I do not!” Was he saying she was fat?
“That dude was jealous of me. He was polite about it, but he didn’t want to leave you here. I’ll bet he thinks we’re doing it right now.” He made a few pelvic thrusts, then howled with laughter.
“Oh, gross, you jerk!”
“You should have gone to bed with him. God, knows, you could use some hot, monkey lovin’.”
She swore at him. “Can you imagine that? To just admit that you were looking for a hot prospect to fill your nursery? To a woman who is obviously not in the running? Can you imagine his thinking that I would warm his bed until he finds the genuine article?”
“Did he say that?”
Riley lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “No, not exactly.” Craig had always had this way of making her see her own foolishness.
“He seemed okay to me. He looks damned familiar, though. Where the hell have I seen him? That’s the kind of guy even other hetero males can find attractive without feeling too gay. He sort of looks like Hugh Jackman but with a big nose. I have a big talent crush on Hugh Jackman.”
He turned on the television to the movie channel. They sat down and watched some adrenaline-driven car bust-up thing. Riley took in little of the plot.
“I think he looks like Robbie Butler,” she said softly after a time.
“That guy Ginny and Rory are trying to track down? The thug who ended up doing hard time?”
“Yes.” She didn’t defend him.
“Wow, really?”
“A bit. He looks a bit like him.”
With dark irony, Craig asked. “You hated him, didn’t you?”
“I never had any opinion on him at all.”
“You sure? Aggie said you did.”
“That’s not true.”
“Aggie doesn’t lie. I saw his picture at Aggie’s once. Let’s put sunglasses and an Apache bandana on this guy and see what we get.”
“Let’s not and say we did. I’m being so ridiculous, it’s embarrassing me.”
“Gee, big of you to admit that for once, Rye.”
She frowned blackly at him. “Ever since I met him I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Robbie. The eyes are different, of course. Robbie’s were that pure blue. And Robbie had that broken front tooth and he was way younger then and smaller... but there’s a quality that--”
“So is that why you won’t give this dude the time of day? It’s been fifteen years, Rye. You’ve got to be over him by now. I mean, if you did actually admit to feeling something for the guy back then.”
“Okay, I did feel something. It was over so fast. I don’t talk about it.”
“But you’re not over it, are you?”
“Of course I’m over Robbie. Do you think I’m a moron? That I can’t forget my first crush?” Riley shook her head in disbelief. “You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think I have just been coerced into coming here.”
“Really? Coerced.”
“I was hoist by my own petard. I fell for it. That man makes the manipulation of females into a rare art.”
Craig grinned. “I’ll have to get together with him over some beers.”
“Robert Murphy is worried about me staying in the mansion just in case Todd comes home.”
“I don’t blame him.”
“He can’t do this, Craig. He can’t presume to tell me what to do. I don’t even know him.” She smacked her fist on the highly polished marble coffee table. She crossed her arms over her chest, gave a loud harrumph and glowered at the television.
Not really interested in her show of pique, Craig fished under the seats of the sofa and pulled out his ab-belt. Craig was into sending for things from the Internet and info-mercials, anything from chest-hair remover to household gadgets. He gave her a long-suffering look after a while.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she told him.
“This ab thing just makes my face do that. I know you like him.” He shook his head. “And I can’t believe you still think about some teenage crush after all these years. That blows me away, Rye. Robbie Butler is the measuring stick for all the men who have come along since him.”
“No way!”
“That’s a fact, Jack, and you know it. Good or bad.”
He was right. And it was dumb.
“I like this guy. If he likes you, too, go for it. You look good together. The man isn’t a tool. I can tell.”
“It wouldn’t last.”
“Well, nothing lasts for people like us, Rye. We have big issues. Baggage. A whole set of Samsonite. That’s why I always go for it when I can.”
Riley blinked as Craig’s tanned, well-toned muscles jumped beneath his skin. It made her wonder what Rob Murphy’s ab muscles would look like doing the same thing
and she wanted to kick herself.
“You look like you have Saint Vitus Dance.”
“Goes with the ADHD.”
“You know what, Craig?” She bent to pick up her coat and purse from a chair. “I’m not staying here. This was all his idea, not mine. I’ve stayed at Mary’s house alone before with no problem. He can’t tell me what to do.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Stay here, Rye. I’ll stop being a jerk. I was just having you on.”
“I’m not ridiculous! I have never been less ridiculous. And don’t be fake nice to me when I’m pissed off at myself. I hate that.”
“We’ll watch another movie. A chick movie this time. Talk about why you’re getting so lathered up over this dude.”
“I’m not lathered up. You are so gross. And since when did you ever listen to what I have to say? I end up listening to you whine about your latest bimbo.” She marched towards the door. “Will you call me a cab, please? I don’t know the number of a cab company. I’ll wait for it outside.”
“Riley--”
“No, thanks. I don’t want to hear anymore about how I’m stuck in a fifteen year Loserville time-warp.”
“I’ll drive you,” Craig said with a sigh. “I might as well, Riley Jane. Once you make up your mind--”
“Thank you. I hate cabs.” Riley gave him a small grin. “Just take off the ab-belt, please. I don’t want us to crash into a telephone pole.”
Five
Fortunately there were no guard dogs at the Connors’ mansion. He hated that. He’d been bitten twice in the last six years.
It had been a piece of cake to scale the sandstone wall near the edge of the property--it backed onto a private stretch of beach--and find the back door servant’s entrance. Like most grand homes the servant’s entrance had a bypassed alarm. It prevented having one’s hired drudges try to remember codes--a good thing for the average break-and-enter artist.
Not that Rob was an average break-and-enter artist.
Once he was in, Rob discovered that the alarms were not engaged anywhere else within the house, but the outside doors and windows gave the obligatory buzz as soon as they were opened.
He was pleased. They’d made it easy for him. Someone had walked out and left the huge, opulent home virtually open. He was home-free for as long as he needed. There had been no cars in the Connors’ drive and no neighbors in close sight or hearing range. He would have preferred to have had a schematic of the house so he could go directly to his target, as he’d had in most other operations lately, but that was just his personal leaning. He’d once liked flying by the seat of his pants, but as he got older he found a simple, well-executed plan was better.
As he’d expected, the office was alarmed by a separate system, but it only took him about five minutes to disarm it. There was no one in the house in the way of servants, but he could hear the excited yips and yaps of a couple of small dogs behind one of the doors. He didn’t like dogs as far as a break-in job was concerned, but these exuberant little guys probably behaved like this all the time.
The room next to Mary Conners’s must belong to Riley. He decided that he’d check out Riley’s room after he finished in Blake’s office. Not that he’d really come to suspect her of any involvement with Vasco, but stranger things had happened.
Maybe she had some information on her sister somewhere in her room that he could use to help her. He knew that she wasn’t likely to come to him for help, even if she had reluctantly told him about Grace while they were at the burger place. If he could find out what she had so far--the sister or her sister’s father’s last name, some birth info--he might have something to he could use to help her.
He also wanted to see where she slept.
Rob sat down in a sumptuous leather chair at the late Blake Connors’s mahogany desk. He searched through a ledger and had a peek through the drawers. He was in no big hurry. He figured he had an hour. Maybe more.
It took the better part of a minute to get into the safe, ten more to search the hard copy files in a cabinet hidden behind a mahogany panel. When it came to the computer Rob discovered that for a man who had a crappy safe and a cheap file cabinet, access to the hard drive was extremely well protected. There was no way he was going to figure out how to crack the codes tonight. All the files were heavily encrypted, not necessarily proof that Connors had been doing bad stuff before his untimely demise, but very interesting all the same.
He decided he’d have to come back and steal the whole hard drive. Otis and the boys could open it up and have a good look at their leisure.
He closed the office carefully, reset the alarms and headed back down the hallway. As he’d have suspected, Riley’s door was locked. Not much of a lock, he discovered after six seconds of fiddling. It bugged him, especially with that sleazy Todd slithering after her.
Robin looked around the room where Riley lived. Everything was neat, orderly. Almost pathologically perfect. She didn’t even leave her nighty lying on the pillow.
If she wore one.
He looked over at the queen sized bed with the thick, pristine white coverlet and sucked in a breath, imagining Riley reclining there in all her glory. Honey hair spread over the pillow, full breasts thrust up, arms beckoning him to come and do whatever he wanted. What she wanted, too.
Rob felt his sigh tug in his chest. Damn. Damn he wanted that. He wanted her so badly he could taste her.
He looked around. She didn’t have much. Not like you’d expect a young woman her age to have. She owned mostly plain serviceable clothes from places like the Gap and Old Navy, half a dozen pair of shoes. No valuable jewelry, and certainly no stuff that might have been given to her as gifts by boyfriends or lovers. A good sign because Vasco was reputedly generous with his lovers. If Rob was her man he’d buy her something she’d wear to tell the world she was his. Tell everyone else hands off.
She had good taste in music. From her CD collection she liked what he liked. Pete Yorn. Weezer. Marshall Crenshaw. Ryan Adams. Early Bowie and Led Zeppelin. A little bit of early Elton, but you’d have to beat on Rob to make him admit he liked Elton. A nice mix of stuff.
He searched the desk, coming up with correspondence that pertained mostly to Mary and her charities. There was nothing personal to be found at all, other than Riley’s ledger of personal expenses, her checkbook and her own income tax stuff. She was paying off a huge student loan every month.
He admired the hell out of that. That she paid her debts on time.
He walked over to a highboy against the wall, looking down at it with a stab of conscience that fled quickly. Had to do what he had to do.
He started with the bottom drawers. Most people were more likely to store important papers in the bottom drawer. There was a photo album. He opened it, finding lots of pictures of Riley and Craig, probably taken sometime after he’d left town. She didn’t seem to have that many close girlfriends that he could see. Maybe she didn’t go out that much with the girls. Other women probably found her coolness and beauty intimidating.
He found her graduation photo. She’d been a mature student, but she’d gone through all the pomp and circumstance anyway. His heart twisted at how happy and excited she looked in her blue cap and gown, holding a bouquet of red roses. There were pictures of her at a graduation party, flanked by Aggie--looking like she was suppressing a flood of tears--and the handsome Craig, who was proudly bussing Riley’s cheek and pinching her butt. They made a great looking couple. Rob didn’t even want to go there.
He went methodically through the other drawers, coming upon ones reserved for lingerie. She had a real nice stash of underwear, mostly serviceable cotton and work-out stuff in one drawer, but there was another drawer with several hot little numbers. Silk panties. Stay-up stockings with wide lace bands that would hug her slender thighs. Scanty bras in size thirty-six-C. God damn...
Robin Butler didn’t normally get off on looking at lady’s underwear; to him it was more about what was in the underwear, but hell... All
he’d done the last few weeks was fantasize about her. And what he’d been doing to quell the urges wasn’t all that intellectually satisfying.
He reached in with his gloved hand and took out a racy little pink lace high-cut bikini. The garment wrapped around his fingers with a will of its own. He could smell perfume, something floral, wafting up from the dainty article. What the hell, he decided. He was a thief at heart and he wanted something to remember her by.
Rob tucked the panties into his pocket.
That was when he heard the beeping from the vicinity of the foyer. He heard the hurried steps on the marble staircase. Someone was in; someone was coming to this floor.
Rob couldn’t open the balcony door. Whoever it was would hear the alarm buzzer sound in the panel in the hallway.
Damn. The plantation shutters that covered the balcony doors were good enough to hide behind until she went into the bathroom. The dogs, who had settled down within a few seconds of his being in Riley’s room, started yipping in the next room again.
~ * ~
There was no one as useless or irresponsible as that spoiled brat Todd, fumed a deeply aggravated Riley. The alarms weren’t even activated and he’d been the last person in the household to leave that night. Todd acted like a six year old sometimes. A lot about Todd resembled a six-year old.
Riley had taken the liberty of checking converted stables, now the garage, for Todd’s favorite car. The Viper was gone and that gave her a sense of relief. The fact that every other car belonging to staff or family was gone as well was not that comforting given that she was feeling nervous. Like she wasn’t alone.
She just hoped Todd didn’t come home right now and catch her near his luxurious guest house.
Riley decided to head upstairs for a bath and hopefully a deep and dreamless sleep. She was going to meditate herself into a state of calm. She’d go to her imaginary beach, she decided as she slipped off her jacket and kicked off her shoes. She’d be blissfully alone on the vast beach with the sugar sand, azure sky with clouds like the swirling tops of Dairy Queen ice-cream cones, a sun like a bright yellow balloon--
B. G. McCarthy - A Thief At Heart Page 7