by Nina Bruhns
She jerked herself away from him and shoved her arms into the garment he'd given her, wrapping it around her body. When she looked up, he was regarding her with a furious expression.
"Do you really think that's what I want?"
She looked down. "Isn't it?"
He dragged on a matching pair of pajama bottoms. "Would it be so bad if I did?"
"Yes!"
Yanking fiercely on the drawstring, he said, "I see. You'd rather put people in jail than be my mistress?"
"Don't take it personally, Beau. I'd rather go to jail myself than be any man's mistress."
She stalked to the bathroom, fuming. He really had some nerve, assuming she'd even consider such an arrangement. "I happen to love my job," she called out through the door. "And I aim to keep it."
"I'm not asking you to give up your job," he continued angrily when she came out. "I'm just asking for a chance to be with you. Is that so unreasonable?"
She stopped short of the living-room door and squeezed her eyes shut. Guilt deflated her indignation a notch.
"Put that way, no. It's not unreasonable." She turned.
He stood stock-still, hands on hips. "So, what are we going to do about it?"
She exhaled slowly and toed the carpet. Man, oh, man, if he was angry now, just wait until he heard what she had to say. She dearly wished she'd had the foresight to shower and dress before having this conversation. Being thrown out in the hall would be so much less embarrassing with clothes on.
He took a step toward her. "Well?"
"Nothing. We're going to do nothing."
"But—"
"Even if I wanted to, or could, Remi would always be right there, standing between us."
"Remi?" He clenched his jaw. "You're telling me you're not even willing to give me a chance? You'd rather give me up—and everything we have, everything we could have—just to bust Remi?"
She had to turn away, the betrayal in his eyes ran so deep. She mourned the loss of her passionate lover. Even when he'd been angry before, he'd still looked at her in that special way a man looks at the woman he claims for his own. Now there was nothing but incredulity and hurt in those whiskey-colored eyes.
"You don't understand."
"So, enlighten me."
She sighed, folding her arms around her middle. "I have no choice. This is my last chance. If I don't recover the jewels Remi stole, I'll lose my job at Moorefield Insurance. The only way I can do that is to catch him in the act, get him to confess, and to find out what he did with them. I have till the end of the month or I'll be fired. Period. Finito. No reprieve."
"Would that be the end of the world?"
"Yes, it would. Beau, you have Terrebeau, your fortune and family. I've learned that I've only got my job. That's it for me. It's all I can truly depend upon. I have to go after Remi. There's no other choice."
He stared at her, his expression shuttered, revealing nothing. "There's always a choice."
She looked down, fiddling with a button on the pajama top. "I'm sorry. This is the way it has to be." She turned and hurried into the bathroom.
* * *
For a long time Beau stood in a storm of indecision, listening to the shower run. She would leave him now. And there wasn't a blessed thing he could do to stop her. Nor should he want to. But there it was, staring him in the face. He'd give just about anything to make her stay.
Including selling out Remi?
He set his jaw and marched into the living room. No. He couldn't do that. He couldn't make himself betray his family.
No way. Not even for the woman he'd just spent the most incredible night of his life with.
The one woman who had finally made him believe in love.
He was certain she felt the same way. He'd sensed it in her every move last night, every word this morning. But for some reason she refused to acknowledge her feelings. Wouldn't see that what they had was special. Worth keeping for longer than a single night. Much longer. Her job had nothing to do with this. There was something else going on here. He wanted to walk straight into that shower and shake some sense into the woman.
And it didn't help his frayed patience any that since their meeting at the Pelican, he'd had the niggling suspicion cousin Remi was hiding something, too. Something big.
A breeze blew across the room, rustling the pages of some magazines scattered on a table. He looked up and realized they'd forgotten to shut the balcony doors last night. Letting out a short laugh, he shook his head. Hardly surprising, considering the hurry they'd been in to make love.
He wandered over to where his handcuffs lay sprawled on an end table and slowly spun them around with a forefinger.
Kit had been a fantasy come true last night. She had been wanton and responsive, sweet and fragile, and always flatteringly infatuated. She seemed to know instinctively just how to move to drive him wild with desire. And how to make him overflow with feelings he still found it hard to believe he was capable of.
Suddenly, he frowned and checked the table again. What was missing? There was definitely something…
The necklace! Where was the necklace?
He quickly ran his hand over the entire table and the floor under it, as well. He distinctly remembered placing the handcuffs and the necklace on the table. After two exhaustive searches, he was forced to admit it wasn't there any longer.
The balcony curtains billowed in the light morning breeze, catching his eye. And he was struck with a horrible thought. The balcony doors had been open all night.
Aw, hell. What else could go wrong today?
"Kit?" He knocked on the bathroom door and opened it. She turned in the swirling mist and his mouth went dry. She was tantalizingly bare, her wet hair dripping onto her milk-white shoulders. Her iris eyes were huge, midnight-dark and emphasized by the sleekness of her hair. They were also puffy and red.
He frowned and took a cautious step forward. "Kitten?"
She started and the comb in her hand clattered to the tile floor. "Do you mind?" she said, sweeping up the comb and grabbing a towel. She turned away and wrapped it around herself.
"We may have a problem."
"That's the understatement of the year," she muttered. She bent over the sink to rub fog off the mirror and her towel rode breathtakingly high up the back of her thighs.
Life was so damn unfair. "Did you by any chance get your necklace from the living room?"
She swung around. "No, why?"
"It's not where I left it."
"It's… But it has to be!"
She ran past him to the table and reached down. Her hand hovered for a second over the handcuffs, touching them briefly before flying on to reexamine all the possible hiding places he had checked earlier. No necklace.
She looked at him accusingly. "This isn't funny, Beau."
"I don't have it. I have no idea where it is."
"But how?" She glanced around the room, her anxiety growing. "How could it be gone?"
He crossed his arms over his chest. "We seem to have left the balcony doors open last night."
"We— Oh, no!"
She rushed to the doors and peered out toward the adjoining rooms. He knew without looking. The balcony ran along the entire length of their floor, each room's share separated by only a metal partition. Any determined thief could make easy work of climbing around them with very little danger of falling off.
She pivoted and stalked back to him, eyes blazing. "Remi!"
"Now, we don't know that."
"Is anything else missing?"
He shook his head.
She planted her fists on her hips. "Nobody but Remi knew about that necklace. It must have been him."
He had to admit, it looked bad. "Let's pay him a visit. If he has it, I'll get it back. You have my word on it."
* * *
Kit watched Beau disappear into the bedroom to get dressed, and almost screamed with frustration. And guilt. She could kill herself for suggesting to Remi last night that he should
steal the necklace. Obviously, he had taken her at her word and thought she was doing her part distracting Beau in the bedroom, while he sneaked in through the open balcony doors. Never in a million years did she think he'd do it so soon, before they could talk again.
Why her? Why was this stuff happening to her? Now, when she least needed all this complication? She'd been so close to retrieving the necklace and getting things back on track, but the whole universe seemed to be conspiring against her closing this case.
She paced back and forth.
And of all the ridiculous times to fall in love…
Love? Oh, no.
Sure, Beau was fun and sexy, sensitive, honest and adorable and, oh, the list went on and on, but that didn't mean she was in love with him. Not remotely. Nor did the fact that she'd sell her soul for just one more night with the man.
Pure craziness.
She strode to her suitcase and flung it open, grabbing some underwear and the first clean outfit she found. She held it up and cursed her bad planning in not bringing jeans and T-shirts. It was another short dress, baby blue this time, and more suited to charming a jewel thief than catching one. Just great. Unfortunately, there was nothing better to choose from. Her wardrobe had been designed for Vegas, not San Diego marinas.
The shower went off, and she hustled to dress. She was struggling with the zipper when Beau walked out of the bathroom.
"Need some help?" he asked, eyeing the dress. Before she could protest, he finished zipping her up.
"Thanks," she mumbled, and moved away before his fingers strayed and they both ended up naked. Bad enough he tugged off his towel in front of the dresser and she was forced to endure watching his enticing backside slide into briefs and slacks. She remembered how good that particular piece of anatomy felt in her hands, all firm and—
She turned abruptly and silently read herself the riot act. She would not succumb to temptation. Determinedly, she applied her makeup and tossed the bag into her suitcase.
Beau was pulling a shirt over his ubiquitous undershirt—thank goodness for small favors—and watching her lock her suitcase. He buttoned the shirt and rolled its long sleeves up to his elbows without commenting on her obvious intent to leave.
"Ready?" he asked after he'd snapped the cover of his handcuff case and clipped his badge onto his belt. She was grateful for the deliberate show of power. Beau meant business. She only hoped it impressed Remi as much as it did her.
Slipping on a pair of heeled sandals, she preceded him out the door. He hung back and she could feel his eyes on her all the way down the hall to the elevator. Her pulse thrummed. It should annoy her, this subtle macho behavior. Instead, it sent a thrill through her body she couldn't deny. He still wanted her. Even though it could never be, she could at least take that knowledge away with her—he still wanted her as much as she wanted him.
She took a cleansing breath and brushed aside those thoughts. Letting herself daydream about Beau would only depress her, since she knew her time with him was about to end. When they found the necklace on Remi, she'd have enough evidence to have him arrested—whether Beau liked it or not. And he'd hate her forever. But she would have her job back. And her safe life.
They reached the marina and hailed the guard.
"Sorry. Mr. Beaulieux closed up the Trinket early this morning and left. Said he wouldn't be back for several weeks."
"He's gone?" Kit held her head for fear it would explode. "I can't believe this is happening to me."
Beau hooked a thumb in his belt next to his badge. "Did he mention where he was going?"
The guard hesitated only a second. "He said something about visiting his family down South."
Kit frowned. "Verdigris?" According to her information, Remi hadn't been back home in almost ten years. That was why she and Ricky hadn't known about a certain Louisiana lawman to begin with. She turned to Beau. "Why would he do that?"
Beau stared out at the mosaic of boats bobbing on the choppy waves. He knew something, she could feel it. But he wasn't talking. Instead, he asked the guard to let them through the gate.
When they reached the Trinket, he hopped onto the deck and slid his hand under one of the benches.
"What are you doing?"
He held up a key. "Stay on the dock in those heels. I'm going to search the cabin in case he left the necklace here."
Progress. He actually believed Remi had it. "How did you know where to look for the key?"
"We shared everything growing up. Including a few boats."
"What about women?" she asked, shocked at her own gall. She really didn't want to know.
He darted her a look before ducking below. "Up to a point."
She climbed aboard and peered down after him. He was efficiently searching through galley drawers. "What point?"
"Come down here and I'll show you."
"Funny." The sound of a motorboat approaching from the harbor diverted her from dangerous thoughts. In her heels, she walked precariously to the side rail to double-check if against all odds it might be Remi returning.
The boat rumbled slowly by the Trinket. Hidden beneath a hooded sweatshirt and sunglasses, the driver might have been Remi, but it was impossible to tell for sure.
Suddenly, the motorboat made a sharp circle in the water, its wake rocking the Trinket. Kit pitched back against the cabin wall, just as the air was shattered by the burst of a gunshot.
Beau stuck his head out of the cabin. "What was that?"
She stared after the boat as it sped away, hugging her stinging arm in shock.
"I think somebody just tried to kill me."
* * *
Chapter 7
« ^ »
Beau mounted the ladderway in two steps and rushed over to Kit. "You're hurt! What happened?" He quickly scanned her bleeding arm, then the rest of her for other injuries.
"He shot me! If I hadn't stumbled…"
She looked so shaken, he tugged her into his arms. "It's all right, kitten. I'm here."
"Why would he do this?"
"Who?"
"Remi."
"It was Remi?" he asked in disbelief. "Did you see him?"
"Not exactly," she admitted. "His head was covered."
She had to be wrong. "Remi would never do anything like this. I guarantee it." Carefully, he examined her wound. "Just a scratch. You'll be good as new in no time. Must hurt like hell, though."
"I'll live."
Hurrying down to the cabin, he returned with a clean towel and the first aid kit. He fixed her up as gently as he could, and she bore his ministrations without a peep. Brave lady.
"There. This'll hold until we can get you to a hospital."
"That won't be necessary. You did a great job. I'm fine."
"You might need stitches. Or a tetanus shot. Don't argue with me, we're going." Brave, but obviously needed taking care of. "Now, tell me what happened."
She looked mutinous, but recounted the exact sequence of events. He glanced around. "Where do you think the bullet went?"
"I think I heard it hit something over there." She pointed to a place on the railing. "You don't think it was Remi, do you?" She held her arm gingerly while he went to examine the spot.
"No. I do not."
"But if it wasn't him, then who? Who would want to—"
Chilled to the marrow, he looked up from the railing where a fresh gouge was clearly visible. "I don't know, darlin'. But we have to report this. And the stolen necklace, too."
It was midafternoon before all the papers were filed with the local police, statements taken, evidence photographed. Beau tried to stay in the background as much as possible, given his unusual position in the case. But he fielded more than one raised eyebrow as Kit told the detective a somewhat edited version of how they had come to be in San Diego and what had happened since.
She handled the ordeal like a pro, and his admiration for her skyrocketed. He knew she was scared and would like to accuse Remi of both crimes just to ease her min
d, but to her credit, she didn't. She gave the facts just as they were, with no bias in favor of one conclusion or another.
Not that she had to. The San Diego detective had no trouble arriving at the same assumption she had. Beau himself was finding it difficult to maintain his unflagging faith in Remi's innocence. He was determined to get to the truth of the matter. It was no longer just family business. Now Kit was involved. And if she was in danger, her life threatened, he wanted to know why.
"Will you be staying in town for a few days, in case we have more questions?"
"No," he and Kit said in unison.
The detective slid a notepad over to them. "I'll need addresses and phone numbers for the next couple of weeks."
Beau pulled out a business card, scrawled his home numbers on the back and handed it to the detective. "I'd appreciate hearing about any developments."
He nodded. "You'll let me know if your cousin turns up?"
"I'll do that."
Kit finished writing and started to push the pad across the desk. Beau intercepted it, tore off the top sheet, folded it and stuck it in his shirt pocket. "She'll be with me."
Rising, he cut off her protest by shaking hands with the detective. "I'll be in touch. Come on," he said, turning to Kit, "we have a plane to catch."
He hustled her outside just in the nick of time. Her indignant sputtering turned into actual words. "Are you out of your mind telling him that? I have no intention of—"
"You were shot, Kit. If you think I'm going to let you out of my sight before this thing is solved, you're the one who's out of your mind."
"You have no right!" she said, cradling her bandaged arm. "Hello? Has anyone let you in on the fact that the Stone Age is over? You can't just go dragging women off to your cave if they don't want to go!"
"I didn't have to do much dragging last night," he quietly reminded her.
Her chin went up. "That was … different. This isn't about … that."
He almost smiled. Says who? He braced his feet apart and parked his hands on his hips, unwilling to budge an inch. There wasn't a chance in hell he'd let her go if she might get hurt again. Having her in his bed was just a possible side benefit.