by Dana Stone
“You’re sure you won’t sell?” Tristan laughed out loud and flopped back onto the bed. “Lass, you have no idea what I’m capable of. If you did, you wouldn’t throw words around so easily.”
“That’s how it’s to be, then? Watch yourself, Tristan.” Erin strode from the suite, took a cab to the museum and drove her car home in the dark of the night.
Chapter 11
SUNLIGHT STREAMED THROUGH a crack in the drapes that covered her bedroom windows. Erin glanced at the clock. She’d slept later than usual. With a yawn and a stretch, memories of the evening before flew into her head. Her stomach tightened as she thought of their physical reactions to one another. Then, annoyed by Tristan’s laughter before she’d left him, Erin flung the covers aside and got out of bed.
A light tap on the door gave her a start. “Come in,” Erin called while she wrapped and tied the silk robe.
Mrs. Hardy bustled in with a tray filled to its edges. Steaming coffee, a small cup of jelly and an array of scones lay grouped together.
“What’s this for?” Erin asked.
“I figured you’d slept in and might enjoy breakfast in bed for a change,” Mrs. Hardy answered.
“Are you serious? I have to get to the gallery. There’s much to be done in preparation of Jeff Godrick’s opening.” Erin made for the bathroom and then stopped short. She turned and said, “Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Mrs. Hardy. Is there something you’d like to confess?”
“Oh, uh, no. I’ve nothing to confess, Miss Erin,” Mrs. Hardy vehemently denied.
Erin crossed her arms and leaned against the door casing. “The last time you did something like this, you had a confession to make.”
Mrs. Hardy seemed to be thinking hard. “I think you’re right... though, not this time. I merely wanted to treat you to a relaxing morning. You did get in rather late last night.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Breakfast in the kitchen will be fine. I’ll be down in a jiffy,” Erin said, closing the bathroom door behind her.
“I’ll leave the tray on the sideboard for you. There’s grocery shopping to be done this morning, so I’ll be out for a while,” Mrs. Hardy called through the closed door.
She was definitely mending fences. What could the woman have gotten up to in twenty-four hours? Erin shook the water from her hair, smoothed the towel over her body and chose her outfit for the day. Ready to meet whatever came her way, Erin skipped down the staircase and into the kitchen. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw Tristan Forsyth sitting at the table as though he owned it.
“What the hell are you doing in my kitchen, Forsyth?” she demanded.
“Is that any way to speak to the man you made mad passionate love to for hours last night?” Tristan asked with a wry smile.
Thank goodness Mrs. Hardy wasn’t around to hear his words. Yikes.
“Consider yourself uninvited to my home,” Erin said with a hand on her hip.
“I stopped by to share what I’ve learned about you and Cam. You might find it extremely interesting, Erin.”
“Please, just leave now, will you?” Erin said coldly.
His eyes gleamed as Tristan rose from the chair. Thinking he was leaving, Erin wasn’t prepared when he stepped into her space. She would have moved if he hadn’t clamped his hand around her wrist and yanked her close. Darn. Her body reacted to him as it had every time they’d come close to one another.
His lips met hers with a swiftness she couldn’t avoid. Erin’s determination to cast him aside meant nothing when Tristan was near, when he touched her – and the sex... My God, it had been incredible. With trembling knees, racing pulse and a quickened heartbeat, Erin knew she’d taken a treacherous turn and tried to force herself to step back.
It wasn’t happening.
Tristan held her in a steel grip. Her willpower bottomed out. Erin was lost to him the moment his hands moved over her breasts.
With all her might and determination, Erin forced her way out of his clutches. Her mind muddled, she sucked in a breath and smoothed her hair. She needed to buy enough time for her senses to stop reeling so she asked, “Are you planning to seduce me every time we meet, or just right now?”
Though he was hard and ready, Tristan never missed a beat. “I’ll have you as often and anywhere I can get you. You started this Erin... I’ll finish it.”
“Meaning?” she snapped.
“I’ve decided sex is better than arguing.” His eyes were hooded as he stared at her lips and then at her breasts.
“It’s just sex.”
Tristan’s eyebrows shot up a bit. “What?”
“We had sex, nothing more.”
“And here I thought you might be in love with me,” he said and ran his knuckles down the side of her cheek.
Her passion mounted as he put his hand at the nape of her neck and leaned in for another kiss – this one a softer, gentler kiss than the first. All she wanted was to have him naked and take him on the kitchen table, now. Not a second later, but right now. She fumbled for Tristan’s zipper when she heard a cough behind her. Panic replaced her passion when Mrs. Hardy entered the room.
Tristan’s chuckle brought heat to her face. Erin turned toward Mrs. Hardy and breathlessly said, “I thought you’d gone to the market.”
“Obviously.” Mrs. Hardy looked everywhere but at the man and woman before her. “I forgot my purse.” She sidled toward the cabinet and whisked the purse from it. Without giving either of them a glance, Mrs. Hardy scooted from the room.
Tristan burst into laughter and no matter how hard Erin tried to hold it in, she couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
“Good thing we weren’t on the table, huh?” Tristan asked. His humor subsided.
Taking advantage of the moment to move away from him, Erin walked across the room, took another cup from the cupboard and added it to the tray she lugged to the table. Busily, she plopped the plate of pastries between their places and served the tepid coffee. He rose, picked up both mugs and zapped them in the microwave.
“Dig in, it may be the last meal we have today,” she instructed Tristan. “Mrs. Hardy might not come home after that display.” Erin rolled her eyes and snickered.
“You were planning to take advantage of me before Mrs. Hardy made her presence known, weren’t you?”
Erin grinned and shrugged. “I was, I admit it. Your zipper was giving me difficulties.”
Tristan sipped the coffee, munched a scone and said, “I can rectify that now if you’d like.”
She put her hands up. “No, no. I’m good, thanks.”
His brows jittered up and down and she started to laugh.
“Why, yes you are, Erin. Yes, you are.”
“Seriously though, what did you come by to tell me?” she asked.
“When I got back to my hotel this morning, I had a message from Durant, the policeman investigating your robbery. He asked that I call him.” Tristan brushed scone crumbs from his fingertips. “He’s of the opinion that Cam stole the artwork and you’re covering up for her. He was interested in my knowledge of you both.”
Her mouth hung open.
“Wait,” he said, “I told him I’d met you both, but I said nothing more. You might want to confess to him that you and Cam are one and the same, Erin, or you both could be in hot water with the police department.”
“Well, shit, doesn’t that ruin a day that started out on a high note?” Erin twirled a strand of her hair while she thought of the consequences of her actions. “Did he mention any suspects in the case, other than me and Cam?”
“He didn’t say. I got the feeling he’s looking close to home. How much do you know about your staff?”
“I only know them from a work standpoint. I never encouraged tidbits of information about their personal lives. As Cam, I didn’t either.” She didn’t hold out now that Tristan knew she’d been playing the part of Cam. She still wondered how he had found out.
As though reading her mind, he said, “My assoc
iate, McNeill, looked into you and Cam. He was quite surprised to find she didn’t exist, and hadn’t, ever. When he researched you, he found you’d been part of the drama club at a university in Britain. It all made sense once the pieces of the puzzle came together.”
“I suppose I’ll have to speak with Durant and clear things up.” Erin brushed her hair from her face. “It was foolish to even begin the charade. Once I became Cam, the staff seemed to relax and do a better job than when I was there. I felt as though they feared the real me.”
“I’ll drive you to the station if you’d like,” Tristan offered.
She shook her head. “I think I’ll invite him here. It might go better that way.”
He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “If that’s what you want, I’ll stay until he arrives.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I think it is. I worry you’ll change your mind, then where will you be? I’ll stay. End of discussion,” he said with finality.
Erin chafed at his insistence, but knew he was right. She’d probably talk herself out of doing what was necessary and then justify her actions in her own mind. Just the fact that she’d hidden behind Cam for so long was enough for Tristan to believe she might indeed run away from her responsibility. She lifted the phone from its charger and dialed the police station. It wasn’t long before the cop in charge of her case answered the call.
“This is Officer Durant,” he said in a bored tone.
“Good morning, this is Erin Cameron from the Cameron Gallery. We spoke the other day.”
“I remember, Ms. Cameron.” His voice turned all business.
The phone shook in her hand as she asked if he’d come to the estate.
“Is something wrong? Are you having an emergency?” Durant wanted to know.
“I’d like to talk with you in private about Cam Boucher.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Stay put,” Durant ordered.
She thanked him and hung up.
“You’ve done what’s right, Erin,” Tristan assured her. “Somebody on your staff took those paintings. I’m certain of it. Maybe we can flush them out. We’ll see what happens when Durant arrives. For a while, you had me fooled as Cam, you know.”
She appraised him and asked, “What gave me away?”
“Your teeth. No two people have the same teeth. I’m surprised your help hadn’t made the connection. Besides, nobody kisses the same, and you and Cam do. It didn’t hit me right away, but sank in rather slowly.”
She chuckled softly. “I was rarely at the gallery when anyone else was. When I was there, I made sure I didn’t grin. I thought about that and tried to smile with my lips closed, instead. I’ve never had to kiss anyone who tried to buy my gallery. You’re the first.”
“I was serious when I said if you sold to me, you could run the operation the same as you’ve been doing, Erin. I wouldn’t change much at Cameron’s, I promise.”
“Why are you so determined to own my gallery?”
He didn’t answer.
“No sidestepping, okay?”
Tristan stared at her for a time. Then he seemed to reach a decision.
“I’d bought about five galleries before I met your parents. Your father was a gentleman, a businessman and he had a big heart. Your mother was the most charming woman I’d ever met. She went on and on about you the entire time we spoke, until I felt I almost knew you. About a year later, your father called me. I was in Scotland at the time. He asked if I’d consider taking over Cameron Gallery. I was stunned and said so. He admitted that he had cancer and wouldn’t live much longer. Your mother was already gone and he was worried about you.”
She held her breath. Her father had never spoken one word of this to her, not even on his death bed. Or had he? She searched her memory of that stressful time and gasped.
“I was with him when he took his last breath. Before he died, he muttered something to me about collaboration plans. I thought he was hallucinating. I begged him to relax, and then he was gone,” Erin exclaimed.
“I agreed to wait and see how you handled the gallery before I made an offer. That was acceptable to him, even though he wanted me to approach you immediately after his death. I put feelers out several times to see how you were managing. Each time my information came back that you were mostly absent from the gallery and Cam Boucher was in charge.”
“The space Cam’s disguise gave me was important. I reeled from Mom’s death, but fell on my face when Dad’s came along.” Her voice trembled, even now, after the span of time between her father’s death and the present. Would she ever completely get over losing them? “I used Cam’s character as a crutch. I know that I made a poor choice.”
The doorbell chimed and Erin scurried from the room. Officer Durant stood on the steps, his back to her while he surveyed the grounds.
“Come in, please.” Erin stepped back and swung the door wide.
Durant gawked at her for a moment and then entered the foyer. “Quite a place you have here, Ms. Cameron.”
“It’s been in my family for generations, just as Cameron’s has,” she said. Erin guided him into the kitchen where they found Tristan making a pot of coffee.
He glanced over his shoulder with a smile. “Thought you might like a sip or two of coffee while the lass tells you what’s on her mind.”
Erin smiled at his accent. The word sip came across as seep and when he called her lass, a warm fuzzy feeling buzzed in the pit of her stomach.
With a grunt of thanks, Durant accepted the cup of coffee from Tristan and added cream and sugar when they were offered. He sat where he could see both their faces.
Erin wondered if her confession was a mistake. She glanced at Tristan, who shot her a look that said she’d better not back down now.
Tattered nerves and deep-seated fear left her voice as wobbly as her knees. She plucked at a napkin and fiddled with her coffee cup handle until Durant cleared his throat and said, “I assume you didn’t invite me here to sit in silence. Would you like me to start, or are you going to tell me things I already suspect?”
“Uh, of course, you’re right. You’re not here for coffee. You’re here for my confession, of sorts.” Erin drew a deep breath, let it out slowly and tried to steady her voice. Suddenly, she burst out, “I’m not simply Erin Cameron. I’m also Cam Boucher.”
His eyebrows hiked as Durant’s stare locked onto her face. “That wasn’t what I suspected at all. Go on,” he said.
“I’ve been pretending to be Cam for a few years now. After my father died, I had difficulty leaving the house and felt more confident in disguise. You see, reporters wouldn’t leave me alone, but Cam was of no interest to them. As her, I could go about freely. I made up a story about hiring Cam Boucher as a gallery manager. The longer it went on, the easier it was to hide behind Cam. I will also admit that I was about ready to leave Cam behind and be myself.” Erin shrugged. “Things started to unravel for me when the theft occurred.”
“Ah, yes, the theft. You wouldn’t want to confess to that, too, would you?” Durant asked.
“I didn’t steal those paintings and neither did Cam. Mr. Forsyth thinks it was an employee, just as you do. I’m not so sure, but it makes sense.” Erin sipped her coffee.
The saying two heads are better than one, could only mean three were better than two, right? Lost in thought, Erin slouched against the back of the chair. Her mind wandered over the past week or so. Excitedly she leapt up, startling both men. “I know who took them.” Erin’s hands fluttered as her excitement grew.
“Sit, lass, or the good policeman will be calling the men in white to take you away.” Tristan reached out, took her hand and smiled as she settled across from them once again.
Durant drank coffee, remained silent and waited. Erin could see the expectant sparkle in his eyes.
“You might think I’m barmy, but I’m not. Honest. Something has been niggling me since the theft took place. I couldn’t put my finger on it until now,�
�� Erin remarked.
“Don’t keep us in suspense, lass, spit it out,” Tristan demanded.
Erin went to refill her cup and turned to them while she leaned against the sideboard. “Lately, Meredith has acted a bit odd. I thought it was due to the theft and police presence. Come to think of it, Jesse North hasn’t quite been himself either. Though, he had been struck on the head,” she added.
“You think these two hatched a plan to steal the paintings?” Durant asked.
“I don’t want to think so, but what other conclusion is there? The staff at Cameron’s is limited, which makes your suspect list rather short.” Erin paced back and forth a few times. “When Meredith left the other day, she had on a long coat. I’d never seen the coat before, it was too big and billowy to fit her properly. From the way she jumped, I figure I startled her when I came around the corner.”
Erin’s pulse hiked a notch when Durant’s skepticism showed in his eyes. To dispel his doubt, she insisted, “Meredith left by the front door. My staff and I always enter and leave by the rear exit. She didn’t want to pass by me. I’ll bet she hid the artwork within the coat. She’d been rummaging under her station and was rattled when I came into view.”
Durant nodded. “The reception desk is tall like those in hotels – a barrier of sorts between the customers and the staff. Hmm, and what about North? How does he fit in?”
“Not only did Meredith’s coat and her exit bother me, but she hurried across the street and got into a car driven by Jesse North. The whole scene left me unsettled, but at the time, I couldn’t say why. And the other day, she confided in Cam, that she didn’t think much of me – Erin, so I assume she has no employee loyalty to me or to the gallery. And weren’t you going to hire her if you bought the gallery outright, Tristan?”
Tristan nodded, but didn’t say anything.
Durant had tipped his chair back on two legs. He landed with a thump. “First, prove to me that you are Cam Boucher, then we’ll discuss this again.”
They trouped up the stairs. Outside her bedroom door, Erin said, “I don’t think the bed has been made yet, so please disregard the mess.”