The Cop

by Cara Summers

Lara’s smile turned sympathetic. “I’m sure you can find whatever you need for this evening in one of our gift shops. We even have a personal shopper if you’d like to make out a list.” She passed a pen and a notepad to J.C. and another to Nik.

  “Excuse me.” Lara moved to speak to the man who’d appeared in the doorway behind her.

  “A personal shopper?” she hissed. “What do we do?”

  “Go ahead and fill it out,” Nik suggested. “We’re staying the night.”

  At her raised eyebrows, he said, “I can’t risk taking you back to Aunt Cass’s place. Cole Buchanan is the only one who knows we’re here. And it’s the last place anyone would think to look for us.”

  “Right.” J.C. turned her attention to the list. “So for tonight we’re Arthur Varden and…? What’s my name, by the way? And how rich are we? I need to know what we can afford. And if we’re planning a wedding, we must be engaged.” She raised a hand and wiggled her bare fingers at him. “I think I need a diamond.”

  Nik shook his head. “I’m beginning to think I’ve created a monster. And you can pick your own name. Cole picked out Arthur Varden for me.”

  “Hmmm.” She tapped her pen against her bottom lip. “I think I’ll be…Carrie.”

  “Carrie?”

  “She was my favorite on Sex and the City.” She began to scribble away on the list.

  Nik simply stared at her. “You’re really getting into this, aren’t you?”

  “Mmmm,” she murmured as she continued to write.

  Admiration filled him. She had to be the most resilient woman he’d ever met. Less than an hour ago, she’d been with him behind that Dumpster, listening to two thugs discuss why one of them had failed to shoot him and grab her. Then when he’d wanted her in that truck, when he’d needed her, she’d given herself so generously to him. He didn’t know anyone braver. And now, here she was throwing herself fully into the little charade that he’d set up. He’d never met anyone like her.

  And he was falling in love with her. The realization hit him like a blow to his solar plexus. For a moment all he knew was that he was numb, and he couldn’t latch on to one coherent thought because his head was spinning. It was still revolving when a man’s voice said his name. “Mr. Varden?”

  “Hmmm?” It took him a second to realize that the short, balding man to his right was talking to him.

  “Welcome to the St. Regis.”

  Gathering his thoughts, Nik shook the man’s hand.

  “I’m Howard Melnitz, the banquet manager. Your personal assistant, Mr. Buchanan, told me you’d be arriving and that you’re thinking of having the St. Regis help you plan your destination wedding. How can I be of service?”

  There was a short beat of silence while Nik still tried to get it together.

  J.C. shot him a look, then smiled at Howard Melnitz. “I’m Carrie Manning, Artie’s fiancée. If you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to see your grand ballroom. I’ve heard such raves about it.”

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to settle in your room first?”

  She smiled at him. “Heavens, no. When we get into our room, you won’t be able to get us out. I always like to take care of business before pleasure, if you get my drift, Mr. Melnitz?”

  “Why, yes, I think I do, Ms. Manning.”

  Nik could have sworn that Howard Melnitz was blushing.

  J.C. turned to Lara. “I’ve jotted down a few things, just some essentials to tide us over until our luggage arrives. Perhaps your personal shopper could gather them together and send them up to our room?”

  “Happy to,” Lara said.

  J.C. beamed a smile at Melnitz as she slipped her arm through his. “Shall we go?”

  “IT’S LOVELY,” J.C. said as she took in the elegant room.

  “The St. Regis is one of the oldest and most exclusive hotels in San Francisco. The ballroom itself has been featured in Architectural Digest.” He moved away to one of the walls. “These sconces were made in Europe and sent here by boat. As you can tell from the slight variations in the carving on the finials along the balcony, the whole railing is hand-carved. You can’t find that kind of work in the newer hotels.”

  “No. How many can you seat in the ballroom?”

  “Four hundred. Five hundred if we use the mezzanine.”

  J.C. glanced up at the railing that formed a balcony on three sides of the room. Her stomach plummeted as she realized that anyone seated at them could indeed be seen from any place in the lower ballroom.

  As Melnitz led the way down the room, she lowered her voice and spoke to Nik. “Notice the way the tables are arranged on the mezzanine?”

  “Yeah.” They were deep and angled so that two of the people seated at them could be seen from below only in profile. “Frankie would have been in plain view.”

  “Yeah. But only from a distance.”

  “Ms. Manning?”

  “Yes, Mr. Melnitz?”

  “I can offer you a dance floor in two sizes—medium or large, depending on how much dancing you plan on providing.”

  “Oh, I’ll need the large dance floor. My Artie here is half-Greek. We’ll be cutting up a rug, as they say.”

  “Very good, Ms. Manning. Is there anything else you want to know about the ballroom?”

  She glanced up at the mezzanine. “I believe there is. Artie, can you do me a favor?”

  “Anything, darling.”

  “Would you go up to the balcony and sit at one of the tables with Mr. Melnitz? I’d like to get a sense of whether or not the guests on the mezzanine feel like they’re part of the whole celebration or if they’ll feel left out. Would that be all right, Mr. Melnitz?”

  “Of course, but we’ve never had a complaint about any guests feeling left out. Why we had a charity ball just last night and everyone felt included. In fact, one of the cochairs sat up here with her husband and a few friends.”

  “We’ll just humor the little lady, Mr. Melnitz,” Nik said. “How do we get up there?”

  “Right this way.”

  A few moments later, Nik and Melnitz appeared on the mezzanine. Nik sat at one of the tables and called down to her. “What do you think, darling?”

  “I think it’s going to be just fine,” J.C. said. She could hardly wait until they rejoined her on the main floor. Slipping her arm through Nik’s, she turned to the banquet manager. “Thank you so much, Mr. Melnitz. You’ve given us a lot to consider. Artie and I want to be married in a place where we can share our joy with our friends, and so far I’m impressed. We’ll want to discuss it and sleep on it, of course. Will you be around in the morning?”

  “Of course, Ms. Manning. Is there anything else I can show you—the hotel dining rooms, the fitness room, other guest rooms?”

  “No, I’m sure we’re going to get a sense of the St. Regis during our stay.”

  Melnitz nodded. “The Sheridan Suite is one of our finest. Mr. Varden’s personal assistant insisted.”

  “I can’t wait…unless…Artie, do you want to see anything else?”

  Nik shook his head. “I’m fine if you are, darling.”

  “Good,” J.C. said, drawing him toward the door.

  The moment they were alone in the elevator, she said, “I know how Frankie could have done it. He used a doppelganger.”

  “A doppelganger?”

  “A look-alike. I’m betting he hired someone who looked like him to attend the charity ball with Gina while he took care of his business at St. Peter’s Church.”

  Nik thought for a minute. “That would certainly explain how he could be in two places at once. But it sure as hell would be risky. What if someone who knew him figured out the hoax?”

  “Gina Carlucci was one of the cochairs. I’ve learned enough from watching my stepmother do this kind of stuff to know that the men are just the window dressing. They provide the escort on the night of the event. That’s all. As a cochair, Gina could have made sure that their table was up on that balcony in plain sight, but far enough away t
hat no one could see Frankie up close. I’ll bet if you ask Captain Parker, the only place he saw Frankie last night was at that table on the mezzanine.”

  “And people see what they expect to see,” Nik mused softly.

  “Exactly. The others at their table could have been in on it or they could have been strangers who wouldn’t have known that they were eating and talking with a stand-in. What do you think?”

  He took her hands then, very reluctant to wipe the look of excitement off of her face. “I think that I really like the way your mind works. But it’s only a theory. We don’t have any proof.”

  “I know. But we can ask my parents tomorrow at the garden party just when and under what circumstances they actually saw Frankie at that charity ball. I know that’s how he did it.”

  “Me, too.” He smiled at her then. “My thumbs have been prickling ever since you said the word doppelganger.”

  The elevator door opened and he drew her toward the double set of doors at the end of a short hallway. “But right now, why don’t we agree to leave Nik Angelis, Jude Catherine Riley and all our troubles and worries behind?” He stuck the magnetic card into the slot, then opened the door. “For one night we’re going to be Arthur Varden and his fiancée, Carrie Manning. And we’re going to enjoy all the amenities that the St. Regis has to offer.”

  Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her over the threshold and into the Sheridan Suite.

  A HALF HOUR LATER, Nik glanced around the main room of the suite. He’d never consciously tried to give a woman romance before. A good time, yes. But romance had always been Theo’s or Kit’s gig. And truth be told, as he glanced at the tapered candles burning on the grand piano and on nearly every table in the room, he felt a bit uncomfortable with the “ambience.”

  The hotel staff had been very helpful. Room service had suggested a menu, and the waiter had provided the candles, along with the flowers and the chilled champagne. The waiter had even turned the radio to a classics station, and Debussy now spilled softly into the room. Nik hoped that J.C. would like it.

  He’d showered quickly and was grateful to find that the hotel’s personal shopper had sent up a fresh change of underwear along with the toiletries that J.C. had jotted down on the list. And though he felt a bit foolish in it, he’d slipped into one of the robes that had been hanging in the closet.

  He was pretty sure that Artie would have worn the robe. Running a hand through his hair, he began to pace. Where in the hell had Cole gotten that ridiculous name anyway? But if it would take J.C.’s mind off the fact that a crazy man was out to kill her, he’d be anyone for one night. Try as he might, he couldn’t forget the way her eyes had looked when he’d first turned her around to face him in that alley. He’d seen fear and a vulnerability that she did her best to hide.

  Tonight, he wasn’t going to let her think about any of that. As for tomorrow? He was going to make damn sure that Frankie boy didn’t even think of making a move on J.C. at that garden party. If he did, it might very well be his last move.

  Glancing at his watch, Nik frowned. She’d been in that bathroom for a long time. Maybe he should go in….

  No. He’d seen the huge sunken tub in the bathroom and he imagined that she’d opted to indulge in that amenity rather than a quick shower. He might even have joined her, but he’d wanted to get in a quick call to Cole Buchanan. It was a long shot, but Cole was going to check with some casting agencies on the off chance that Frankie Carlucci had hired an actor for his little charade.

  Cole was making progress on the financials, too. Frankie boy had run up some gambling debts, and he owed some very bad people in Vegas. It wasn’t proof. But in detective work, you had to content yourself with gathering nails, one by one, until you had enough to pound the lid on the coffin.

  Turning toward the door to the suite’s other bedroom, Nik once more debated going in there. What in the world was she doing?

  J.C. TOOK A LONG LOOK in the mirror. It wasn’t that the hotel’s personal shopper hadn’t gotten her what she’d ordered. It was the fact that she was short. The lace teddy was okay, but the robe that went with it dragged on the floor.

  She let the robe drop to the floor. Better. Her hair, she couldn’t do much about. The steam from the bath she’d taken had activated the curls. She’d piled it on top of her head and tried to get a few of them to “artfully” escape. The end result was that her head looked like a mop. Pulling out the ribbon, she let her hair fall to her shoulders, and studied the image in the mirror.

  The nerves in her stomach knotted even tighter. This was the best she was going to do. She might pretend that she was Carrie Manning for a night, but underneath, she was J.C. Riley, and she’d never set out to intentionally seduce a man before. At least not the way she wanted to seduce Nik tonight.

  Pressing a hand against her stomach, she drew in a breath and let it out. Tonight she didn’t want to be Nik Angelis’s sex buddy. She wanted to be his lover.

  So. She looked herself straight in the eye. “You can do this. You got through culinary school. You got away from three killers today. Pretend you’re Carrie Manning if you have to. But you’re going to do this.”

  Turning, she walked to the door, opened it and then stopped short on the threshold. She was aware of the flicker of candlelight, the gleam of silver on a table set for two and the music. But her eyes never left Nik. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them. He’d set this stage for her. The sweetness of the gesture had her heart taking a long, slow tumble.

  She loved him. What she hadn’t been able to admit in the back of that truck, she had no choice but to admit now. The scariness of the realization, and the joy of it, sang through her more potently than wine. And suddenly, she knew that she could seduce him. She didn’t have to pretend to be anyone but herself.

  NIK COULDN’T MOVE. The moment J.C. appeared in the doorway, all he could do was look at her and absorb. A cream-colored bit of lace and silk skimmed her breasts and fell to her thighs. And her hair was down. In the candlelight, the tumble of curls glinted with hints of fire. And her eyes. He’d never seen them that dark before. Was it his imagination or could he see a reflection of his own emotions in them?

  She smiled and walked toward him then. He thanked the Fates for that because he still couldn’t move. As she drew closer, all he was aware of was her. She filled him, pushing everything else out.

  When she placed a hand on his chest right where the robe formed a V, he felt his heartbeat quicken.

  “I’m going to seduce you.”

  Didn’t she know that she already had? Couldn’t she tell? He felt the tug at his waist as she pulled his belt loose, the brush of the robe as it slid off his shoulders and fell to the floor. And still he couldn’t find the strength to move.

  She was beautiful. He’d thought her cute and even pretty at times. Why hadn’t he seen that she was beautiful? There was a pressure tightening around his heart.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said.

  “No, that’s you,” he answered. His voice sounded breathless.

  “Yeah, right.” She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. “The first time I saw you, I thought of Adonis, a man beautiful enough to have two goddesses vying for his favors. I’d never really understood that myth until you first made love to me. You’re a man women would fight over. You’re a man I’d fight for.”

  Her fingers left a trail of fire and ice as they danced down his chest. He sucked in his breath sharply when they reached his waist and toyed with the band of elastic there.

  J.C. glanced up at him and smiled. “The hotel’s personal shopper has good taste. Too bad you won’t be wearing them for long.” She knelt down then and drew him with her to the floor. Then framing his face with her hands, she brought his mouth to hers.

  Any minute now, he would regain control, Nik thought as her lips whispered over his. But the pleasure she gave him was so sweet, so drugging, that he didn’t want to end it. Not yet. Not ever. Each nip of he
r teeth, each brush of her tongue, made his blood thicken and move more slowly. It was agonizing. Magnificent. His skin grew damp, hot. His breath backed up in his lungs and burned.

  He wasn’t even aware of the moment when she pushed him to the floor and straddled his waist. Her mouth still moved over him, and the lace, the silk, the flesh that was her rubbed against his skin until desire flared hot and deep in his center.

  Still, he couldn’t move. He was helpless, trapped in the sensations that only she could bring him.

  IT WAS SO EASY, J.C. thought. Why had she worried that she wouldn’t be able to do this? Was it knowing that she loved him that made the difference?

  She’d felt that softening, that instant of complete surrender as she’d pushed him onto his back and straddled him. And it had empowered her as well as aroused her. When his hands moved to her waist, she pushed them away. She wasn’t done with him, not yet. She continued to move her hands and mouth over him, determined to know more. To have more.

  She pressed her lips against the pulse thudding in the hollow of his throat. That made his breath catch. She moved her tongue over his nipple. That made him sigh. She lifted one of his hands, nibbled on his fingers and wrenched a moan out of him when she nipped his thumb.

  Moving lower, she slipped her fingers beneath the elastic of his briefs, then lowered them slowly, following the path with her teeth and tongue until…

  When her mouth closed over him, Nik felt the strength finally return to his limbs. Arching up, he took her face gently in his hands and eased her away. Now that he could move again, he had to firmly strap down his control. He found the robe and drew out the condom. When she took it from him and sheathed him with it herself, he very nearly lost it.

  Teetering on the edge of orgasm, he hooked an arm around her waist and dragged her beneath him. Arms trembling as he braced himself above her, he stared down. Her chin was lifted, but what he saw in her eyes was such a perfect match to what he was feeling that he was able to gather his control once more and slip into her slowly. Eyes locked, hands linked, they began to move together. There was only her face in the candlelight, only her hair burning bright on the rug, only her body moving faster and faster in perfect rhythm with his.