by LETO, JULIE
He slipped his hands around her waist and tugged her close. Her perfume, enhanced by the heady scents of body heat and need, intoxicated him to the point of near-delirium.
“No, but a consulting position will give you a good reason to stay with me,” he said.
“Do I need a good reason?”
“I want you,” he whispered.
“That will do.”
He might have surrendered again to the urge to kiss her, but a police inspector interrupted them with an embarrassed cough. They were needed upstairs to provide a rundown of precisely what was stolen.
Surprisingly, only the jewelry Lucienne had taken out for photographing was gone. It was a loss, to be sure, but fully insured. And thankfully—surprisingly—other valuables had been left behind.
“When can we start cleaning up?” Alex asked.
“Since there was a shooting involved, we need more time to process the crime scene,” the inspector informed him. “We’ll have units out here at least until morning. You’re free to go. I will call you if we have any questions.”
Alex provided his cell phone number, as well as Lucienne’s. But when she went to retrieve her purse from her locked desk drawer, she realized that too was missing.
Someone had jimmied the lock and taken her personal items.
“They have my identification—my address, my keys,” she said, her voice rising.
The inspector frowned. “Did anyone know that’s where you kept your personal items?”
Lucienne shook her head. “I came on after Alejandro dismissed most of the staff. We’ve had a few clients stop by to view the collection. I suppose someone might have seen me put my purse in there. It’s the logical place.”
Alex asked the inspector for the list of dismissed employees that he’d already provided and added the last dates of their employment. “Only these people knew Lucienne. I suppose the warehouse staff might have known her as well.”
“And any experts or clients I had in to evaluate the larger pieces,” Lucienne added. Cooperating with the police wasn’t her first instinct, but she didn’t take kindly to having her stuff stolen or her life threatened.
“I have those names,” the inspector said, holding up the sign-in sheet Alex had given him. “We’ll check it out. But in the meantime, you shouldn’t go home. It’s not uncommon for thieves to hit secondary targets. I’ll send uniforms by your place, but in the meantime, do you have anyone you can stay with until you’ve had time to change the locks?”
Alex met Lucienne’s troubled gaze, then grinned. This wasn’t exactly how he’d wanted to entice her to his hotel suite, but he wasn’t the type to pass up a golden opportunity.
He slipped his hand around her waist. “It’ll be my pleasure to look after her, Inspector.”
And hers.
6
FOR A WOMAN who’d fantasized about having Alejandro Aguilar all to herself, Lucy was spending an inordinate amount of time trying to ditch him. Yes, she was freaked out about her stolen purse. She’d been careful to carry no incriminating information, but the thieves now had the keys to her apartment and her address. And while the contents of Lucienne Bonet’s apartment included nothing of real value, with enough time and determination, they’d find evidence that proved she was not who she said she was.
And that could cost her everything.
“I should go by my place and pick up a few things,” she said.
Alejandro shook his head, his attention focused on his smart phone. After they’d finished with the police, he’d called Michael. She’d waited patiently in the trashed gallery while he told his brother what had happened. With each word he spoke, his voice became harder. More clipped. Terse. He was angry, not at his brother, but at himself. She’d never seen a man take his responsibilities so personally.
Not that she knew many men who believed in responsibilities in the first place. Certainly not her father. Over the span of her childhood, he’d gone from being a respected museum curator to a criminal in the blink of her eye. And the only responsibility Danny ever took to heart was the promise he’d made to himself to steal as many pieces of art as he could without getting caught.
Though if he’d concentrated a bit more on the “without getting caught” part, she wouldn’t be in this mess.
When Alejandro had ended his call and directed his driver to take them immediately to his hotel, she hadn’t argued. The last thing she wanted to do was add to his troubles, which had gouged deep worry lines on either side of his otherwise delectable mouth. But the hairs on the back of her neck hadn’t stopped pinching since she’d discovered that the smash-and-grab thieves had taken the time to break into her desk and steal her purse.
Too many things weren’t right about this robbery. The brazen daytime attack. The guns. The missing items—a small cache of one-of-a-kind jewels and a Prada purse. The thieves had left valuable coins behind, along with two easily recognizable first edition books, the jeweled dagger and a jacket tagged as once belonging to Marlon Brando. Those were portable and easy to get rid of on the black market. Why were they left behind?
Were the invaders, like her, looking for something in particular? An item of jewelry, perhaps?
Maybe she was being paranoid. Or maybe someone was on to her con.
But who?
Had whoever was trying to leverage the ring from Daniel made a preemptive strike? Were they tired of waiting? And who could it be? Daniel was well liked in the cat burglar world, but thieves made a lot of enemies. The list of people who might want to thwart him was long and varied. If she were to figure out who might have nearly killed her and Alejandro in the break-in today, she’d have to talk to Danny…and that wasn’t going to happen so long as his eldest brother had decided that her safety was his priority number one.
There was no way she could get to Danny now, anyway. Visiting hours at the jail were long over. And if the thieves broke into her apartment, they wouldn’t find much. Yes, she’d stashed her real identification in an air vent, but she’d been careful not to have anything in her possession that connected her to Danny or her search for Ramon’s ring. Very few people knew that she and Danny had grown up in the same household. Even the guards at the jail thought she was an ex-girlfriend.
She could only hope the robbers had just been after her credit cards, which she’d already cancelled. Yet, despite her precautions, she couldn’t shake the suspicion that she’d forgotten something.
“Just let me pick up some clothes for tomorrow,” she insisted. “We won’t have to be there long. Five minutes, tops.”
Alejandro did not look up from his text messaging. “Make a list of what you need and I’ll have the hotel concierge take care of it.”
The driver, who’d taken Alejandro’s order to hurry with dead seriousness, drove over one of San Francisco’s famous hills with a little more speed than was wise. When they reached the top, the bump caused Lucy to fly off the seat. She squealed in surprise and then fumed as Alejandro’s lips tensed into a barely contained grin.
“This is ridiculous,” she insisted. “I live only a few blocks from here.”
“Unlike my chauffeur in Spain, this driver’s job description does not include protecting us from bandits,” he said calmly.
“Apparently, it doesn’t include safe driving, either,” she said, clutching a backseat handhold.
Alejandro chuckled and tucked his phone into his jacket. “Yes, well, he’ll get us where we need to go, quickly, as I requested. I’ve had more than enough excitement for one day. I’d rather not confront either thieves or police at your apartment on account of fresh lingerie and a new dress. It’s late and we’re both exhausted. Whatever you need, I will provide.”
She tried to ignore how his tone deepened, as if implying he’d give her more than clothing and toiletries. In fact, from the dark intensity of his gaze, he seemed to hint that to give her what she needed, she wouldn’t require any clothes at all.
She crossed her arms over her chest, her
mind spinning. Part of her wanted to surrender to those wicked possibilities, but the other part kept trying to figure out how to get back to her place and make sure she hadn’t been found out as a liar and a con. She could wait until he was asleep, then sneak out and hail a taxi. Of course, she had no money. And while she’d already resolved to steal his father’s ring if she ever found it, she had no desire to pick Alejandro’s pocket for cab fare.
She considered calling Daniel’s associates, but for all she knew, one of them could have been in on the robbery.
“You know, you’re an incredibly bossy man for someone who isn’t even my boss anymore,” she groused, sounding entirely like a frustrated Lucy Burnett rather than calm and collected Lucienne Bonet. While she’d enjoyed slipping into the skin of someone with the kind of subtle sexuality men like Alex panted after, right now, she just wanted to cuss a blue streak.
“And you have a petulant quality that I find incredibly attractive,” he said.
Suddenly, staying with Alejandro seemed nearly as risky as returning to her apartment.
For a split second, she wondered if he’d still want her if she tore out her extensions, removed her colored contact lenses, allowed her hair to fade back to her natural auburn and dropped her cultured accent. Would he still find her as intriguing? As desirable?
But where would that leave Danny?
Only as Lucienne Bonet did she have any chance of finding Ramon’s ring. She had to keep up the ruse, if only for a little longer.
Despite her lies, the best place for her right now was with Alejandro. The police would contact him first if anything developed in the robbery. With him taking her under his protection, she’d have access to his hotel suite, where he might have stored the ring. Michael, the only other person who could possibly have Ramon’s treasure, would stay in close contact, possibly opening up an opportunity for her to search his condo.
Until she could check in with Danny or come up with a new plan, she had no other recourse than to sit back, relax and enjoy Alejandro’s protection.
And perhaps, much more.
Just as her brain began to open up to the possibilities, Alejandro’s hand smoothed over her knee. She glanced up to find him staring at her, his eyes shadowed, but intense. He wasn’t just looking at her—he was looking into her.
Or at least, attempting to.
“What?” she asked, rubbing her hand over her nose as if to remove a smudge. Now that she thought about it, she had no idea what she looked like since they’d taken sanctuary in the secret passage. For all she knew, she had spider webs in her hair.
“You are exhausted,” he said.
She rolled her eyes, pretending his concern hadn’t touched her. “You’re a real sweet talker.”
He proceeded to draw very tiny, tight circles with his finger on her skin, each spiraling a millimeter closer to the sensitive inner flesh of her thigh. “I would have preferred you rested. I had every intention of making love to you tonight.”
God, the man was good. His worry was entirely self-centered and yet she appreciated his style. Alejandro Aguilar played no games; hid behind no pretenses. He stated what he wanted without the finesse of flowered words and honeyed promises, and still her insides liquefied.
And then there was that damned Spanish accent.
She blew a wayward strand of hair out of her face. “I suppose the dust and grime changed your mind?”
He scooted closer. Again, his driver took a dip with too much speed, and when she went airborne this time, Alejandro slid over to catch her on his lap.
He didn’t give her a chance to squeal in surprise, but captured her mouth with his. The perfect thoroughness of his kiss blasted away all her thoughts about rings and thieves and secret identities. In her mind, nothing existed but desire. Need. Carnal cravings only he could sate.
By the time he broke away, she had her hands tangled in his hair and her knees parted, her center pulsing for his touch. But his hands never strayed any farther up than mid-thigh.
“When we make love,” he whispered, “you will think of nothing but what I’m doing to your body. You’ll feel only the pleasures I will invoke by touching you here.” He slid his hand higher beneath her skirt, but stopped at an invisible barrier between his touch and her moist heat. “Or when I kiss you here.”
He nuzzled her neck, brushing aside her hair with his nose and then sucking her pulse point until she nearly passed out with pleasure. The kiss was so simple, and yet so evocative. As he increased the gentle suction of his lips and tongue on her throat, she imagined other spots he might explore. Her breasts. Her nipples. Her belly button. Her sex. Instinctually, she shifted in his lap so that his fingertips met the lace of her panties.
The pressure was infinitesimal, but wonderful.
“Oh,” she said.
He kissed a path to her ear, taking a second to curve his tongue around the inner shell even while his hand remained totally and frustratingly still.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
“Yes,” she confessed.
“Oh, how I want to touch you,” he replied. He teased his fingers along the edges of the lace and swept his lips across hers in a phantom kiss—enough for her to feel the heat, but insufficient to satisfy even the tiniest urge exploding inside her. “But if I feel your slick heat now, I won’t be able to stop myself until I have you.”
“Then have me,” she begged.
Despite her request, he drew back. He blinked, clearing any shadow of need from his eyes even as his frown deepened. “Lo siento, querida, pero no puedo,” he said. “We’re here.”
THE SOUND OF THE ENGINE idling had alerted Alex that they’d arrived at the hotel. In a few seconds, the chauffeur would open the door and he had no desire to humiliate Lucienne by being caught in flagrante delicto in the main drive of the hotel.
After helping her straighten her clothes, he tucked a knuckle beneath her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his. “I will finish what we started soon, if that is what you desire.”
The driver opened the door and Alex got out. He held out his hand to Lucienne, which she took, though her eyes never quite met his. Her sudden shyness intrigued him. He hadn’t imagined that anything about Lucienne could pique his interests more, but he’d been mistaken. Even as he buttoned his jacket in an attempt to camouflage the hard evidence of his attraction, he inhaled the tangy scent of her perfume. The floral aftershocks sent his blood thrumming so loudly, he hardly understood when the concierge offered him a stack of documents sent from Spain and asked if there was anything else he could provide.
He invited Lucienne to give the concierge a list of items she would need for the next day. As he paced near the elevators in hopes that his erection would ease, he toyed with the idea of arranging for her to have a room of her own. If she asked, he’d provide it. It would be the honorable thing for him to do.
But he hoped she did not ask. He wanted her close. When he’d said that he intended to make love to her, it had not been a casual comment or seductive tactic. It had been the gut-wrenching truth.
Though Alex was known for his cool demeanor and calm control, he was not the kind of man who denied his emotions. Today alone, he’d felt lust, fear, anger and guilt—all in the span of a few hours. Of those, the only one he wanted to explore further was his need for Lucienne. But when she finally joined him by the elevator, the glaze of desire he’d seen in her eyes while in the car was now clouded by worry and exhaustion.
“They said they’d bring everything up to your room.”
When she slid her hand in the crook of his arm, he released the pent-up breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I’ll order dinner while you take a shower.”
“Am I that much of a wreck?”
“You’re breathtaking. I just want an excuse to strip you naked.”
She leaned slightly against his shoulder and laughed. Perhaps she thought he was joking, but he was not. Still, he’d let her set the pace. After the elevator doors shu
t behind them, he slid his keycard into the designated slot and pressed the button for his top floor suite.
When the doors opened onto a marbled foyer, she stepped out, took a few steps, then turned. “Wait, this is your room?”
He nodded.
“Wow.” She wandered in a few more steps, stopping to inhale the sweet scent of the massive flower arrangement in the center of the entryway, this week featuring four dozen deep purple roses and clouds of stark white orchids edged with vibrant berries.
A shade of anxiety had been erased from her face. “You really know how to live.”
He’d texted the hotel manager shortly after leaving the auction house, and the penthouse had been prepared for their arrival in ways he did not normally demand. The strum of soft Spanish guitars echoed against the candlelit walls. A fountain burbled in a corner. A plush cotton robe sized for her hung in his closet. Tomorrow, Lucienne might be able to return to her apartment. Tonight, he wanted her all to himself, engulfed in a seductive atmosphere.
He removed his jacket and folded it over his arm. “I know how to live in a hotel. My flat in Madrid isn’t half as luxurious.”
She tossed him a doubtful glance. “I don’t believe you.”
“The building I live in is four hundred years old. The ceilings are low, the hallways cramped and you don’t even want to hear about the plumbing.”
“But I expect it’s filled with beautiful pieces of art.”
“Just as this suite is, now that you’re here.”
She rolled her eyes in that particular way American women often did in the face of a grand compliment, but he caught the curve of her smile when she turned to explore the living room.
As he’d ordered, a fire crackled in the fireplace. His favorite brandy sat on the low table, along with two snifters. He laid his jacket over the back of the couch, and then gestured for her to join him.
“May I?” he asked, lifting the bottle of Gran Duque de Alba Solera Gran Reserva.