Cat Burglar in Training

by Shelley Munro

  “I knew you’d look good in my bed,” he replied.

  No denying the satisfaction there.

  “I’m lonely,” I whispered. Also terrified I’d muck up this chance with Kahu, but that was a whole other story.

  “Can’t have that.” Kahu sat on the edge of the bed and removed his shoes. He peeled off a pair of black socks. I watched the process with fascination. Oh, I’d seen Father’s feet. And Ben’s, but they weren’t sexy. Kahu made me hot, for want of a better word.

  He stood, lithe and limber, and stripped his black trousers off with economical movements.

  My breath stalled at the back of my throat. Wow. I stared, enthralled with the man’s muscles, his tanned skin, his almost hairless chest. A thin line of hair disappeared beneath close-fitting black boxer-briefs. I made a soft sound of approval at the back of my throat.

  A grin bloomed on his face, masculine and cocky. “You like?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “You can touch if you want.”

  A challenge. I could never resist a challenge.

  He climbed on the bed to kiss me, the taste of his after-dinner brandy as delicious as the man. My hands ran across his shoulders, my fingernails digging lightly into his flesh. I nuzzled at his neck, a combination of kissing and nibbling.

  Our bodies barely touched, Kahu letting me set the pace. His actions made me feel safe. Cherished. I skimmed my hand down his side and discovered he wasn’t ticklish. If he tried the same move on me, I was likely to let out an un-cat-burglar-like squeak.

  Actually, this reminded me of the necking sessions I used to have with my boyfriend. Before the event. We’d broken up shortly before the Christmas ball. I tensed at the recollection.

  Kahu seemed to sense my turmoil. He took over and kissed me slowly and thoroughly. My mind fogged, the past disappearing into the mists of memory.

  My breasts were sensitive, and I wanted more than anything to feel Kahu’s skin against mine. I struggled to remove my dress, my hands bending behind me to get the zip.

  “Let me.” Kahu didn’t fumble. Proficiency gained from experience. I frowned, tensing slightly when his hand smoothed over my shoulder. His fingers skipped over my bra closure. Once. Twice. The second time, he released it with a minimum of fuss.

  A thread of unease rippled down my spine, interfering with the magical mood I’d been basking in since he started kissing and touching me. I forced my trepidation away, planting an enthusiastic kiss on his lips. He stilled, halting the undressing to participate. Tongues twirled and explored.

  My dress disappeared, my bra, both tossed aside. Cool air caressed my naked upper body, and all that separated us were my knickers and Kahu’s boxers. He drew me against him, the steely hardness of his erection brushing my stomach. My pulse rate rose sharply, seeming to roar in my ears like a tornado. I gulped, and a chill ran through me despite the heat coming off Kahu.

  That was the moment I realized I couldn’t go through with it.

  I wasn’t ready.

  A croak emerged as I fought his grip on my shoulders, legs scissoring upward and away from his touch.

  “I can’t,” I gasped. “Let me go. Let me go!”

  Kahu froze, instantly releasing me. “What’s wrong?”

  God! I could never explain. Never in a million years. I felt like a fool. Half a woman.

  “I—I have to go.” I leapt off the bed, grabbing my dress as I ran from the room. At the front door to the flat, I yanked the dress over my head, half expecting Kahu to come charging after me, furious because I’d aborted our lovemaking. I snatched up my handbag and ran for the door, fumbling with the handle for precious seconds, before I flew outside.

  The pebbles on the edge of the road dug into the soles of my feet. In my hurry to flee, I’d forgotten my shoes. Too bad. I didn’t intend to go back for them. I’d be lucky if I could face Kahu again. Regret chased my panicked thoughts as I revved the Mini and took off down the road with a crunch of gears.

  I stalked into the Oakthorpe kitchen to find the terrible trio taking tea, even though it was after midnight.

  Great.

  I marched over to the cupboard to pull out a clean mug and spun to face them. “I don’t want to talk about it.” I drilled my gaze at each of them, my lips tight and shoulders tense. In case they hadn’t heard clearly, I repeated my words. “I. Do. Not. Want. To. Talk. About. It.”

  Hannah wiped her hands on her floral apron. “Has something happened to Amber? Was there a problem departing for France?”

  “No. Amber’s fine.”

  “Ah,” Ben said.

  “What do you mean, ah?” I snapped.

  “Man trouble,” Hannah said with a sage nod.

  “I do not have man trouble.” Tears pricked at the back of my eyes without warning. I squeezed my eyes shut and told myself to quit being such a girl. Cat burglars didn’t cry, and especially over men. “I don’t have time for a man.” I plonked down on a vacant seat. My mug made a grinding sound as I pushed it across the tabletop to Ben. “May I have a cup of tea, please?”

  They shared a concerned glance, the two men both looking at Hannah, their expressions saying, you’re a woman. You do something.

  “I’ve decided to hit the Beauchamp place. Richard’s wife wears some good-quality jewelry. Matthew, his brother, also seems to have plenty of money. I propose to check their security this week.” I turned to Father and Ben, feeling more in control now that I was doing something concrete. “What do you think?”

  Ben nodded slowly. “I think it’s a good idea. Both brothers, if you think it’s doable. Beauchamp has been a pain in the arse, and we deserve a bit of payback. I like the idea of his money repaying some of our debt.”

  My brows rose. That was a long speech for Ben.

  Father picked up his tea and drained the remains. “They’re as good a target as any.”

  “Okay. Done deal.”

  “I’ll power up the computer and start research.” Hannah stood and automatically started to collect the dirty cups.

  “Wait until morning. We need our sleep since it’s going to be a busy week.” I glanced at Father. “Are you and Ben still planning on attending the Wishes Ball?”

  Father nodded. “We’ll be there in the background as planned.”

  “Good. I’ll see you in the morning.” I marched from the kitchen, only allowing my shoulders to slump when I was out of sight in the passage. I hurt inside. Was it possible to die of a broken heart? Maybe if I’d told Kahu the truth things would’ve ended differently. Maybe… Yeah, I was full of maybes, and they didn’t help one bit.

  “She’s obviously had a fight with that man.” Father’s voice drifted after me. “I knew it would end badly.”

  “Kahu Williams is a lovely man,” Hannah said. “If I was younger—”

  “You’re not,” Ben said.

  “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the man’s a cop. How could he be anything but a problem?” Father asked.

  I sighed, once again fighting the onslaught of tears, and dragged myself up the stairs to my lonely bedroom. Like I said before, maybe if things had been different…

  I arrived at the ball fashionably late, dangling from Seth’s arm and dressed in body-baring black. The London hotel ballroom was packed to capacity. Just the thing to make the Wishes committee rub their hands together in glee. Lots of money for the cause.

  “I’m going to run out on you before the end of the night,” Seth said as we made our way through the well-dressed throng to get to the bar. “I’ll meet you at my flat.”

  “New man?” I asked in a low voice.

  “No. Same one.”

  Envy rose in me because Seth glowed with happiness. Before I dropped into a blue funk again, I considered my plans for the night ahead. My backbone stiffened, buoyed by a sense of purpose.

  “That’s great,” I said, and I meant it. “I hope you’ll introduce us soon.”

  Seth grinned and bent to kiss me on the cheek.
/>   “Usual?” Seth asked me as we finally reached the bar.

  I gave an absent nod while I scanned the faces and the jewels belonging to the people standing around me. After noting the icy-blue glow of a sapphire tiara, my gaze moved on and settled.

  Kahu.

  He lifted his hand in greeting and started toward me. Grief, raw and primitive, pierced my heart. What was the point? I’d spent the last few days dodging his calls. How could a relationship work if I couldn’t bear my partner to make love to me? Relationships were difficult enough without my weighty emotional baggage. I turned away, accepted my drink from Seth, and told him I needed to speak to one of the committee members about a donation.

  I’d taken five steps when a hand grasped my upper arm.

  Kahu swung me around to face him. “Eve. Wait, please. We need to talk.”

  At my glare, his hand dropped away from my arm.

  “I don’t think there’s anything left to say.” I swallowed rapidly, fearing I’d cry if I didn’t get away. The concerned look on his face brought the tears a step closer to reality.

  I wanted to flee but fear gripped me, locking me in place. The sounds of gaiety battered my bruised heart, making me aware of my loneliness. My godmother had suggested seeing a professional during my early days in France. I’d resisted. Fawkners didn’t break under strain. They reveled in challenge, but a tiny voice at the back of my mind wondered if getting professional help was such a bad idea. My gaze skittered over Kahu, not settling but needing the comfort of his solid presence even if I wished he’d disappear.

  I glanced at him again, teetering with indecision. His firm chin and steady gaze clued me in—Kahu would speak with me whether I wanted it or not.

  “Tomorrow at Oakthorpe,” I said.

  His hot gaze swept over me. A frisson of awareness skidded across my skin, leaving my nipples hard and achy, my stomach quivering for his touch.

  Kahu gave a decisive nod. “I’ll be there at ten.”

  He stalked away without looking back, leaving me with doubts the size of China.

  An elbow dug me in the ribs. “Quit gawping at the man. Get your mind on the job,” Father ordered.

  Resentment stiffened my shoulders, even though he was right. “Have you seen Richard Beauchamp?”

  “Last I saw he was heading outside with some woman.”

  “The gardens?”

  “Affirmative.”

  I held back my snort at Father’s version of spy-talk. Without deigning to reply, I pushed my way through the crowds, using my elbows mercilessly when people responded too slowly to my polite requests to pass.

  It was a relief to exit the overheated ballroom and step into the fresh air. Potted lavender filled the air with a pungent scent. Strings of colored lights ran the length of the knee-high hedge. Amber would love the lights. I watched them twinkle, fade, and spring to life again while wishing I could hold my daughter. Please let this situation be resolved soon.

  I scanned the gardens, searching for Richard. Kind of ironic the way life went ’round in circles.

  Same circle.

  Different choices.

  I picked a path at random and hurried down, listening for telltale signs of heavy breathing. The first couple I came across were strangers. It took me ten minutes to find Richard and another ten while I waited for his assignation to finish. I followed him as he wandered between two hedges. When no women intercepted him, I decided it was safe to make my move. Somehow, I had to get him to talk about his brother.

  “Richard?”

  Richard turned at the sound of my voice. He smiled with what looked like genuine pleasure. “Lady Evelyn. Eve!”

  “How are you, Richard?”

  “Missed me?”

  I fought to control my instinctive shudder. Although the man hadn’t stepped out of line in Edinburgh, I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t trust him.

  I shrugged, a loose tendril of hair moving across my bare shoulder with a soft tickle along the upper curve of my breast. “I’ve been busy.”

  Richard’s gaze settled on that lock of blond hair. I felt nothing but distaste.

  “Doesn’t your brother come to any of the social functions?”

  “My brother? You’re after my brother?”

  I cursed my impatience and forced a smile. “Merely conversation.” His frown said he wasn’t convinced, and I racked my brain for words to ease his suspicion.

  “I’ve been meaning to contact you, my dear. I—”

  “Richard, I’ve searched for you everywhere.”

  Richard and I turned to face the woman advancing on us. My breath hitched when I felt Richard’s jerk of apprehension. He was frightened of his wife? Although I found it hard to believe, the evidence was in front of me.

  “And now you’ve found me,” he said.

  I’ll say something—the man recovered quickly.

  “With your tart,” Mrs. Beauchamp snapped, looking down her nose at me.

  Righteous indignation sprang to the fore. “I’m not a tart.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  No mistaking her tone for anything but snide. The woman could speak how she liked to her husband, but I didn’t have to take her insults. I debated stalking off, but I really needed to speak with Richard about Matthew.

  “You knew I wanted to leave early. I have a headache!” she snapped like a heroine out of a regency novel. She glared at me, her thin aristocratic nostrils twitching in disdain.

  “Don’t let me keep you.” My smartass words were probably not the wisest course, but at this point I didn’t care. The woman was accusing me of sleeping with her husband, of getting my greedy hooks into his fleshy body. I’d rather eat a plate of worms from Father’s vegetable garden.

  “Let me call you a cab, Millicent,” Richard said in a soothing voice.

  She puffed up like an indignant snake. I swear I heard her hiss as she prepared to strike. “Leave you with this scheming hussy? Give me a little credit.”

  “I’m outta here.” As I strode up the narrow concrete path to the ballroom, the couple started to snarl at each other in earnest. Here’s hoping Hannah scores with the internet research because I’ve discovered jack at the ball.

  Inspiration struck before I stepped back into the crowd. The Beauchamps were both at the ball. I could leave now and hit their house. As soon as the thought occurred, I discarded it. But the idea wouldn’t leave me alone. I retreated to the hotel foyer to ring Hannah.

  “Hannah, it’s me.”

  “Has something gone wrong?” Alarm rang down the line.

  “No, but talk quick because I forgot to charge the battery. I’ve had an idea about moving my visit forward.” Mindful of eavesdroppers, even in this quiet corner, I framed my words with care.

  “Oh. Okay.” I heard the rustle of papers and the thud of something dropping to the floor. “Won’t be a moment. I did a search on the brother. Not much on the net. I rang an old friend who used to temp as a housekeeper to see if she knew of the family. Bad news, according to her. The man’s a skirt-chaser.”

  “I already knew that.”

  “They have three children. Their marriage was pretty much on the rocks when she covered their regular housekeeper’s holidays.”

  Children.

  The word was like a kick to my gut. I cleared my throat. “Boys or girls?”

  “Why?” Hannah demanded, obviously alerted by something in my voice.

  “I can’t talk. Gotta go.” Richard and his wife were moving toward me.

  “I am not ready to leave,” Richard said.

  “I refuse to take a cab,” his wife spat.

  “I have business to attend to. I told you attendance at this ball wasn’t for pleasure.”

  “I’m not leaving you with that hussy hanging around.”

  “Well, it seems you’ll be staying then,” Richard snapped.

  Sounded like a stalemate to me. And this hussy was going while the getting was good. Ever the opportunist, I decided I migh
t manage to gain entry to the property while the fight raged on here.

  Inside the crowded ballroom, I searched for either Father or Ben. When I couldn’t find them, I collected my coat. I’d contact Hannah from Seth’s flat. Mindful of the shooting at the last ball, I scanned the hotel foyer, frontage and the area across the road for anything out of place. Apart from a higher police presence than normal, nothing raised my alarm.

  In the hotel forecourt, I signaled a black cab. The driver pulled up and waited while I climbed inside.

  “Where to, love?”

  “Knightsbridge. Brompton Road, near Harvey Nichols,” I said, giving the address of Seth’s flat. I’d packed a change of clothes in my bag along with a set purely for cat-burglar outings. A bit of forward planning.

  My mind whirred with plans and the possible scenarios I might find at Richard Beauchamp’s Chelsea residence.

  “This all right, love?”

  I glanced out the window to see the well-dressed mannequins in Harvey Nick’s window. Thick winter coats and furs reminded me of the frigid weather to come.

  “Just around the corner please. Yes, that’s fine,” I said when he pulled up outside Seth’s home. I paid the driver and watched him drive away.

  I clattered up the stairs, ignoring the lift because I wanted to ease the adrenaline arcing through me. Five minutes later, I rang Hannah to let her know my plans, then changed into suitable cat clothes. I stuffed my ski mask in my pocket and, good to go, I took the stairs to avoid any night-owl residents. I headed directly for the Knightsbridge tube. Although time was of the essence—I wanted to arrive before the Beauchamps—the tube to Chelsea wouldn’t take long at this time of night.

  My luck was in. I arrived at Kings Road quicker than I’d envisaged. I walked toward the Beauchamp residence full of gritty determination to get the job done. When I reached the end of Gardonne Place, where the Beauchamp residence took up a goodly portion of one side of the road, I slowed my steps. The Thames flowed past the back of the house, creating another boundary. From my research I’d ascertained that a towpath ran between the river and the fence enclosing the Beauchamp property. I’d approach that way. Less chance of being seen by neighbors peering out their windows.