Too Hot to Touch and Exposed

by LETO, JULIE

  He’d turned to his brother, disbelieving.

  Michael answered his unspoken question by tracing the Z on the inlaid box with his finger.

  Alex had sat back in his chair, stunned. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Ramon believed that if Joaquin hadn’t won the ring from an infinitely more honorable Spanish nobleman, he would have spent the rest of his life as a bandit and a thug. Our father believed that the ring gave Joaquin something—a part of his soul that was missing. His sense of justice, to be precise. Unfortunately, Pop didn’t realize what he’d been given when he found the ring in his own father’s stuff after he’d been knifed in a fight. He was sixteen. He pawned the ring and didn’t figure out what he’d done until much later, when he ran across documentation about the ring while in Spain. I think that may have been why he came back to the U.S. To find his family legacy. To reclaim the life he should have had. He came back and he found it. And it changed him.”

  Both then and now, Alex braced his hands on the edge of his desk. From the moment he’d first spoken to his brother on the phone, he’d found him levelheaded, reasonable and fair-minded. At the time, he’d been shocked that Ramon could have raised such an impressive son.

  Now he realized that his brother had only been putting on an act. Obviously, he was muy loco.

  “You want me to believe that Ramon turned his life around because of a ring?” he’d asked, incredulous.

  Thankfully, Michael had shaken his head and rolled his eyes, betraying the fact that he didn’t believe the family legend any more than Alex.

  “No, of course not. But he believed the ring changed his life. Pop wasn’t a stupid man, Alex. He used his considerable research skills to hunt down this information about the ring’s origins. He went all the way back to the man who’d commissioned the ring in the first place. According to this diary,” he continued, pulling out a sealed plastic baggie containing a sheaf of paper, “Don Diego might have been bad at poker, but he had a strong sense of justice, an insatiable taste for adventure and—” he riffled the pages “—an irresistible talent with the señoritas. Once Joaquin had the ring, he possessed the same, when he hadn’t had any of those traits before. It changed his life. He donned his black mask and raised his rapier to fight for the rights of the downtrodden and the abused. He romanced quite a few ladies and became the stuff of legend.”

  From this conversation, which had ended when Alex told Michael he’d heard enough and would discuss the matter with him later—preferably after Michael had regained his senses—Alex had come to three important conclusions.

  First, the paperwork made it impossible for him to have any real doubts that he was indeed descended from Joaquin Murrieta, the infamous California bandit upon whom countless stories had been based.

  Second, the father he’d heretofore believed to be conscienceless and cruel had actually abandoned his first family to pursue what had been no more than a legend.

  And third, the fantasy had turned Ramon around.

  He ran a cautious finger over the emerald, which he’d balanced atop the prongs inside the open box. Had the power of suggestion been powerful enough to save more than one Murrieta man from a wasted life?

  As Michael had surmised, Alex needed no assistance from the bauble when it came to his sense of right and wrong. His strong moral core remained the roadmap for his life’s straight and narrow course. And when it came to seduction—before his current dilemma of how to seduce Lucienne without putting their business relationship at risk—he’d had no trouble, either.

  But even Alex had to admit that his sense of adventure was severely lacking. Unlike Michael, who risked his life pursuing criminals, Alex preferred to concentrate on his business and family responsibilities. He got his thrills, such as they were, from making a profitable sale or beating out a competitor for the right to market a fine collection of art.

  But now that he’d traveled halfway across the earth to a city known for its history, beauty and excitement, what had he done? Gone out? Explored? Tasted the local food and wines and indulged in the world-famous nightlife? No, he’d sequestered himself inside the auction house to work until he could hardly see and then returned to his hotel for a solitary dinner and worse, solitary sleep…until he started all over again the next day.

  What if the ring changed this? What if the gold, opals and emerald that had somehow altered the ne’er-do-well course of his father’s life sparked something more in Alex as well? Something bold. Fearless. Daring.

  By nature, Alex was suspicious. By training, he was a skeptic. While not exactly a man of science, he did have a strict policy about never appraising anything he had not held in his hands. Even beneath thin gloves, he could experience the textures of porcelain and learn when and where it had been crafted. He could scent the age of certain leathers and distinguish the lead content in crystal by the musical clink of his thumbnail against the rim.

  So why didn’t he just slip on Ramon’s ring and see if the legend was true?

  “Alejandro?”

  Lucienne’s voice rolled over him like the hands of a dozen masseurs. Instantly, his need for adventure gave way to a stronger desire. He scooped the ring into his pocket, closed the box and turned to the door.

  “Yes?”

  Her eyes darted to her watch, then to his desk and the beaten-down box in the center.

  “Are we still meeting?”

  “Of course,” he said, standing.

  She sidled into the room, her inner ear again tuned to some sensual music that he desperately wished he could hear. No matter her destination, Lucienne moved like a dancer. Her steps were graceful and minimal, and yet elicited a potent emotional effect—at least from him. The minute she drew near, her perfume—floral at the heart but with a top note of tart green apple—teased his senses. Only when she drifted just out of his reach again did he pick up on the warm base fragrances of vanilla and amber—spicy aromas that would linger long after she’d left.

  Once in front of his desk, she gestured toward the box.

  “May I?” she asked.

  He hesitated, then nodded his consent. What did he care if she touched it? The thing wasn’t his. He had nothing to hide.

  Except the ring in his pocket.

  She pulled on a pair of thin cotton gloves. He nearly told her not to bother, but why open the floor to unwanted questions?

  “Beautiful construction,” she said, her sensual intonation transforming every syllable into a song. “Spanish mahogany. Ivory and mother-of-pearl inlay, chipped here on the corner and oh!” She winced, and then turned the box to show him a large gouge in the other side. “That’s unsightly.”

  Like the man who’d owned it last, the box was anything but pristine. But Alex said nothing, wanting her professional opinion. Not because he intended to sell the piece, but because he’d come to appreciate the unsurpassed depth of her knowledge—not to mention the slight lilt in her voice that reminded him of home.

  “The pattern suggests late eighteenth or early nineteenth century,” she went on.

  She flipped the box over and examined the bottom. A frown curved her luscious mouth as she scanned the unmarked wood.

  Her fingers hovered on the latch. “Do you mind if I peek inside?” she asked.

  “Not at all,” he replied.

  She popped the brass clasp. Finding the container empty, she took a sniff.

  “Cedar.” She ran her protected fingers over the torn and frayed red lining. “And silk.”

  She leaned forward so that the box fell under the light of his desk lamp, though he hardly noticed thanks to the golden glow cast over her impressive décolletage.

  Talk about priceless treasures.

  She cut short his fantasy of buoying her breasts in his hands with an excited “Here!”

  She folded back a corner of the lining to reveal a tiny stamp burned into the wood. “I’m not familiar with the maker, but by the uneven quality of the impression, it’s hand-burned. From the size, I’d
guess this was meant to hold jewelry, likely a single piece of great value to the owner. And although the box is in questionable condition, we might be able to fetch two hundred and fifty to five hundred dollars for it, based on the age and quality of the inlay. Bonus if the lock works.”

  With care, she flipped the top closed, then stabbed him with her dark, alluring gaze. “Was there anything inside?”

  From his pocket, the ring seemed to pulse and vibrate. Alex fought the urge to slip his hand inside, and instead scooted closer to his desk.

  “Two hundred and fifty to five hundred dollars and questionable condition is hardly worth our time,” he concluded.

  She set the box back down. “The entire collection is rather more impressive than this piece. In most cases, your father had exquisite, if somewhat eclectic taste.”

  Alex frowned, sparing a quick glare at his father’s portrait. “Yes, we’ll chalk this up to eclectic and return it to Michael at the first opportunity. Right now, I’d like to continue the conversation we were having earlier.”

  “Reviewing my report?” She slid into the chair so that he became instantly jealous of the plush velvet cushion. “I hope the estimation is higher than you anticipated.”

  Alex placed Lucienne’s report atop the documents verifying the ring’s history. “Your appraisals are precise and comprehensive. Your work has been impeccable and I cannot thank you enough for your unfailing dedication in preparing this collection for sale.”

  Lucienne sat forward and Alex spied a flash of temper behind her inky dark eyes—a flame of the precise color and temperature he’d been counting on.

  “You sound like you’re about to fire me,” she said.

  He so appreciated a woman who could cut to the chase.

  “That’s because I am.”

  LUCY NEARLY CHOKED. This could not be happening. She opened her mouth to tell Alejandro Aguilar precisely what she thought of his decision when she realized that while Lucy Burnett might give a man a piece of her mind for making such a capricious announcement, Lucienne Bonet would not.

  So instead, she narrowed her gaze and forced herself to relax into her chair. To stem the tide of adrenaline surging through her system, she concentrated on tugging off her cotton gloves. One finger at a time.

  “You’re sure this is the best decision?” she asked coolly.

  He leaned forward, his hands tented in front of him.

  “You don’t sound upset,” he said.

  She chanced a saucy grin. “Will hysterics change your mind?”

  He chuckled. “Are you capable of hysterics?”

  She tossed the gloves aside, determined to appear calm even though her heart was slamming against her chest so hard, she was amazed he couldn’t hear the beat. Up until his grand announcement, she’d thought she had at least another week to locate Ramon’s ring—possibly two. Alejandro had contracted her not only to prepare for the auction, but also to see each and every sale through to completion. Since he’d dismissed Ramon’s former staff, she’d assumed he meant to rely entirely on her.

  Apparently not.

  “I prefer to leave grand dramatics to women with more flair for it,” she replied. “But we will both be better served if you tell me precisely what I’ve done to deserve this unexpected shortening of my contract.”

  Yeah, this was good. Stay calm. Make him explain. If he laid out his reasons, she could counter them. He’d at least have to dig deeper to justify his decision. She wasn’t sure if she could change his mind, but she wouldn’t know until she tried.

  Unless Michael had recognized her and outed her to Alejandro?

  That would certainly result in a quick and unceremonious canning.

  But if that were the case, wouldn’t Alejandro have confronted her with Michael by his side to provide testimony—or worse, proof—of her relationship to their jail-bird brother?

  Instead, he was looking at her as if she were a particularly juicy steak.

  Surrendering to her deepest instincts, she crossed her legs, aware of how the move made her slim skirt ride up high on her thighs. With the desk between them, she wasn’t entirely sure how much he could see…and then, his shoulders tensed.

  Apparently, he could see enough.

  “It’s nothing you’ve done,” he said, his voice a bit strangled. He stood, and then, almost as a second thought, picked up a stack of documents bound in a leather folder and gripped it tightly in his hands.

  She slowly slid her hand down her leg and pretended to pick a speck of lint off her stockings.

  When he finally dragged his gaze back up to her face, the look in his eyes was nothing short of incendiary.

  God, she had made it much too hot in here.

  He turned toward the bookshelf and she breathed a silent sigh of relief. She might not have come here to seduce him, but if Daniel’s circumstances weren’t so dire, she might have attempted just that. Impressively tall, lean and imposing, Alejandro Aguilar was the stuff of fantasies. He kept his dark hair styled close to his skull, but she knew that one run through with her fingers would set those dark curls free. His regal posture invoked images of a matador, and though his suit pants were tailored for loose elegance, she could see that his muscles were lean and powerful. Especially around the backside.

  Before he turned around, she spared his father’s portrait another comparative glance. She’d met Ramon once. His engaging, dark good looks were striking, but he didn’t hold a candle to his firstborn son.

  After Alejandro shelved the papers, he crossed to the front of his desk. She scooted her legs slightly to the left to avoid touching him, though judging by the heated simmer in his gaze, touching him might have been a cunning move.

  From the first moment she’d sauntered into his office with a doctored résumé clutched between her quivering fingers, she’d sensed his interest in her even as she’d covered up her own. Until now, her seductive moves had only been a means to distract and manipulate him. He was Daniel’s brother—a brother Daniel hated on principle. Danny only tolerated Michael because it didn’t hurt for a thief like him to have an FBI agent in the family on the off chance he was ever arrested for a federal offense.

  But the more time Lucy spent with Alejandro, the harder he was to resist. He appreciated her knowledge and hard work. Despite his habit of eyeing her bottom when he thought she wasn’t looking, when he spoke to her, he looked her in the eyes—deeply and meaningfully. He didn’t laugh easily, but when he did, the humor burbled from deep in his soul. He had impeccable manners and exquisite taste in everything from clothes to art to handcrafted weaponry.

  And on top of all that, he was about a fourteen on the ten-point hotness scale.

  But because of Daniel, she had to repress her own needs and focus on the task at hand. Alejandro didn’t know her. He didn’t know that she’d grown up with a mother who replaced her daughter on a yearly basis with younger, cuter foster-care models and a father so wrapped up in fundraising and curating for his museums that he never noticed his child had memorized the papers he’d written on the preservation of ancient Mesopotamian art in the Middle East or the secret trade of banned Medieval weapons during the early twentieth century. Alejandro might appreciate the depth of her knowledge, but he had no idea where she’d gotten it from—or why.

  For Danny, she’d invented Lucienne Bonet—a woman she had nothing in common with beyond her extensive knowledge of antiquities. For Alejandro, she’d given Lucienne impeccable taste and impressive credentials. For him, she had also lengthened her hair with extensions and dyed it a sable color, and wore contact lenses that hid her mossy-green eyes behind discs of deep chocolate brown. She’d studied everything she could find about Alejandro’s personal life before choosing her wardrobe, from the designer blouses to her spiky heels.

  The transformation hadn’t been easy to create or maintain. But for Danny, what choice did she have?

  For her protection, Danny hadn’t shared the exact details of the trouble he was in. She didn’t kno
w who was after him or why. But since he wasn’t one to ever admit he had a problem that he couldn’t handle on his own, the fact that he’d asked for her help meant that whatever hot water he was in was scalding.

  Daniel had made some sort of deal that exchanged Ramon’s ring for his continued good health while in jail. If Lucy could find the ring, they both might be free to finally move on.

  If Alejandro fired her, she’d be out of options. She thought about coming clean to him, telling him about his second half brother in an appeal to his strong sense of family, but she dismissed the thought. Daniel had forbidden it, and Lucy knew Alejandro well enough to realize he wouldn’t be sympathetic to his black-sheep brother’s predicament. The man wore his lofty moral standards like a shield.

  And despite her own questionable code of ethics, she found this infinitely fascinating.

  “So,” she challenged, flicking her gaze up to his. “Why don’t you tell me more about what I haven’t done to deserve dismissal? I’ve worked incredibly hard to prepare this collection for auction. I think I deserve the privilege of seeing it through to the end.”

  “Oh, you deserve that,” he assured her, easing his backside against the front of the desk in a casual pose that belied everything she knew about him. Or thought she knew. “And so much more.”

  His stare took a leisurely stroll from the depth of her eyes to the exposed curves of her breasts and then down to her legs, encased in silk stockings that had cost her a fortune, but at the moment seemed worth every penny.

  “Like?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat, his gaze locked on her while he fished a crisp linen envelope out of the breast pocket of his tailored jacket. “Why don’t we start with this?”

  Half intrigued and half terrified that he somehow had proof she was really Lucy Burnett, she held out her hand. Maybe he had documentation about her ties to Daniel? Clippings about his recent arrest?

  She flicked her fingers beneath the flap, her gaze trained on Alejandro, who gave nothing away. She slipped two sheets of paper out and scanned each one with confusion.