by Nancy Warren
A long suffering sigh whistled in her ear. “This is the last question I’m answering. The Lyons Stagecoach.”
But she wasn’t done punishing Lexy yet. The woman should have called her much sooner. “Man on top or woman on top?”
“It’s a woman-on-top position,” Lexy said, sounding as though she was speaking through gritted teeth.
Even though she’d pretty much accepted that the woman on the phone was Alexandra Drake it was still a huge relief to have the confirmation. “’Kay. I guess you really are Lexy.”
“So, will you come to Colorado?”
“Sure.” She gave Healey the evil eye. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”
She gave the phone back to Healey, who spoke briefly to God knew who and then clicked off.
He came to her and tried to take her hand. She shook him off. “Don’t even bother,” she warned him.
“But you have to let me explain. I should never have slept with you.”
She snorted. “That’s my line.”
“Amanda, please, let me explain.”
“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. You won’t make a fool of me again. Clear?”
Reluctantly he nodded. “I never meant to hurt you.”
She forced herself to sound casual. “Hey, you got me through a rough night. Gave me a few orgasms. I needed the release. You did your job, kept an eye on me. Now you need to get me to Colorado.”
11
ASPEN CHARMED LEXY the moment she saw it. The town was quaint, European feeling, but you couldn’t forget this was a ski destination. A glance up showed the wide, white ski runs like open hands, white fingers pointing to the collection of ski lodges, shops and restaurants in the village.
The drive to town from Charlie’s house took fifteen minutes. Once the Jeep had powered over the unpaved private road, they hit a well-marked, well-trafficked area. Had she hot-wired the Jeep she’d have made it to civilization in minutes. “You lied to me,” she said, incensed as the town came into view.
“No, I didn’t. I told you the closest town was Aspen.”
“You didn’t say it was on your doorstep.”
“You assumed you were in the middle of nowhere. I let you believe it. That’s all.”
Incredibly soon he was parking on a snow-covered road. A line of brick-faced buildings that looked like old warehouses contained a string of stores. Pottery, clothes, ski equipment and, surprise, surprise. Three jewelry stores. He took her into one of them where a young woman in jeans and a sweater asked if she could help them.
“Marcus is expecting me,” Charlie said.
She nodded. Pressed a button under the counter. “You can go on back.”
He led her through a back door and up a flight of stairs.
He knocked on the locked steel door at the top of the stairs and after a minute, during which Lexy felt herself to be under scrutiny, the door opened. “Charles, my friend,” an older man with a beard and tiny round glasses said, shaking his hand.
“Good to see you, Marcus. This is the woman I was telling you about.”
Marcus shook her hand. Not asking her name or seeming perturbed that Charlie hadn’t introduced her. “Come in. I think I’ve got everything you requested.”
He led them to a jeweler’s workbench and handed her a loupe. From a locked drawer he withdrew several black cloth bags and a velvet-lined tray. He shook out diamonds from one, true emeralds from a second and synthetic emeralds from a third.
“Excellent,” she said, as the raw materials she’d need tumbled out and caught the light. He’d followed her instructions exactly. She began to study the diamonds and found them of reasonable quality and the cut was right. It was the emeralds, however, which dominated the set and she was excited at the assortment she could choose from.
She glanced around a well-equipped workshop. “Ah, you’ve got the Black Max, excellent.” The chemical, when applied with steel wool, would give the new gold an ancient patina. It wouldn’t fool a professional, but she reminded herself, it wouldn’t have to.
Marcus removed a heavy wool coat from a tree stand and eased himself into it. “I’m taking a couple of days off. Please make yourself at home. Charles knows how to contact me if you need anything.”
Charlie leaned down to speak quietly into her ear. “Have you got everything?”
“Yes. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Don’t let anybody in until I return.” He gestured to the security camera in the corner that showed the stairs and landing. “I’ll be back with Amanda in a couple of hours.”
“Good. Excellent.”
She barely waited for the door to close behind Marcus and Charlie before drawing out the Isabella Emeralds from her bag.
She opened the case and carefully took the necklace out and placed it on a velvet tray. She’d studied it at length the night before, making extensive notes and she thought she had a pretty good idea of how to duplicate the piece.
She pulled a second item out of her bag, the iPod she’d borrowed from Charlie. His playlist wasn’t entirely to her taste, but by skipping the classical, the podcasts and anything remotely resembling folk, she had pretty good background sound.
She rubbed her hands together, stretched and flexed her fingers as though getting ready to play a piano concerto, and then she got to work.
Two hours later, Amanda arrived.
They screamed like young girls, hugged and rocked and laughed. “I am so glad to see you,” she exclaimed.
“Not as glad as I am to see you!”
“Wow,” Amanda said, looking at the work in progress. “I’ve never seen you copy anything before.”
“No. It’s not exactly my style. But I think I’ve figured out how to copy the necklace.”
“Cool. Oh, Charlie said to tell you he’s getting sandwiches. I told him you like ham and cheese and egg salad and you hate mustard.”
“You are an assistant in a million.”
Five minutes later, Charlie showed up with a paper sack containing sandwiches, coffee and a couple of bottles of water. Then he left and they munched sandwiches and drank coffee while Lexy filled Amanda in on everything that had happened.
Her eyes fairly bugged out when she heard the story. “I can’t believe it. Were you scared?”
“Yeah. I was at first, but mostly I was angry, you know? And for some reason Charlie never really frightened me.” She shrugged.
“It’s ’cause he’s so good-looking,” Amanda said around a bite of egg salad. “In the movies they always cast good-looking actors as the heroes and ugly ones as the bad guys. But I don’t think real life works that way. A guy can be totally hot and still be evil.” She chomped into her sandwich as though biting someone’s head off.
“Are we still talking about Charlie?”
Amanda shook her head. “Healey,” she mumbled, her mouth full.
“What did Healey do?”
The young woman scowled. “Had sex with me.”
“Oh, my God, Amanda, he didn’t…”
She waved a hand and shook her head. “No. Picked him up at Emo’s. But he was only there because he followed me. He was doing his job. He shouldn’t have let me pick him up.” She looked angry, but Lexy also saw the hurt in her eyes.
“Bastard.”
“Yeah.”
“Is he here?”
“No. He stayed behind in New York. Charlie had stuff for him to do, but I swear, Lexy, I love you like a sister but I would not have gotten on a plane with that man.”
“Don’t blame you. Did he have any explanation for why he let you, ah, pick him up?”
“Oh, the usual. It’s not what you think, I have feelings for you, give me another chance, the usual bullshit.” She waved her hand as though swatting a mosquito.
“I can’t—”
“Forget about it. How ’bout you? You and Charlie tried out the Lyons Stagecoach yet?”
“No. And I will never forgive you for making me tell Charli
e my favorite sexual position.”
She got an unrepentant grin in return. “Has he teased you about it?”
“No. He never said a word.”
“Huh. Maybe he doesn’t know what it is.”
Lexy licked butter from her thumb. “Charlie looks like a guy who knows every move in the Kama Sutra. And a few more.”
“Yeah. I think so, too. He hasn’t mentioned the Lyons Stagecoach, he hasn’t teased you about knowing your favorite sex position.” She shook her head. “That’s not good.”
“Why? What do you think it means?”
“Wild guess? He’s planning to ride in your stagecoach.” She stood up and moved her body provocatively until they were both snorting with laughter.
“Come on,” Lexy said at last. “We’ve got work to do.”
Some time later Amanda said, “So, are you going to let him?”
Lexy raised her gaze from the magnifier. “Ride my coach? I haven’t decided yet.”
“At least he didn’t lie to you.”
“No. He only kidnapped me. His excuse is he did it to save my life.”
“Men. They always have some story.”
“Yeah. Pass me that hammer.”
12
“YOU SURE YOU KNOW HOW to fly this thing?” Lexy asked as the twin-engine Cessna chugged its way up into the sky. Maybe if they were in Kansas wheeling over flat fields of corn she wouldn’t have her heart backing up into her throat, but in Colorado? The little plane had to fight its way up over the Rockies. Charlie seemed pretty calm, which she guessed was a good thing, except he always seemed calm.
“Enjoy the view,” he said.
Which didn’t exactly answer her question. She turned and rolled her eyes at Amanda, buckled into one of the backseats and seeming a lot more at home in the small plane than she felt.
“So, what’s the plan when we get back to New York?”
“A simple one. We’re doing some shopping. We’ve got a little prep work to do before the gala. And then we’re going to hide out where no one will find us.”
“Mexico?”
He glanced at her, looking very piloty with his headset. “The Plaza.”
“You’re insane.”
“Probably.”
He didn’t seem nearly as bothered by her accusation as she was, but then he had all the power in this relationship.
For now.
She was nothing if not a fighter and so long as they seemed to be on the same side, she was content—well, resigned—to the idea of him in her life. Temporarily.
She didn’t want to distract the man while he was flying a plane, so she took his advice and stared out the window. The plane hit a patch of turbulence and bounced up and down a couple of times. It had been doing that for most of the trip and she had to force herself not to squawk.
The peaks were snowcapped and jagged, gorgeous in the sunshine as they flew east toward New York.
What Pendegraff had planned seemed bold to the point of insanity, but she had to admit the idea of walking into the lion’s den and out again wearing the very jewels Grayson coveted was exciting.
Besides, she had a score to settle with Mr. Grayson.
She raised her voice to be heard above the noise of the engine and the wind rattling at the windows. The idea of waltzing into the Plaza and going to a fancy charity gala all while she was presumed dead seemed absurd and oddly satisfying. “I hope Grayson has a heart attack when he sees us.”
“But not fatal. I want him in jail.”
She smiled. Maybe they could work together after all.
They landed without incident; in fact Lexy had a reluctant admiration for how easily he brought the small plane down into the private airfield.
After filling out some paperwork in the office they walked out the other side.
Lexy’s step hitched when she recognized the limo waiting for them. “Last time I rode in that thing it didn’t end so well.”
Amanda also stalled when she caught sight of the driver. “Oh, no.”
Pendegraff put a hand on each lower back and urged the women on. “Don’t be too hard on Healey. He kept a good eye on Amanda. And he’s making sure we have some people we can trust on security tomorrow.”
The driver moved to the rear door as they approached and opened it, very properly. She slid inside the familiar interior.
She heard him say, “Amanda? Why don’t you ride up front, with me?”
“In your dreams.” And Amanda got into the back.
Charlie slid in beside Lexy. “Everything all set?” he asked.
“Yes,” the man in front said and slid him a hotel key folder.
The March day was gray and overcast, already depressing, and the thought of everyone here at home thinking she was dead didn’t do a thing to make her feel better. There was something about returning to New York that made her current dilemma more real to her than it had appeared when she’d seen the news reports. Here she was. She could ask the driver to take her home, but she had no home. All her stuff, from her clothes to her tools to her tax returns. Gone.
She supposed she was in shock of some sort because she felt numb. Everything was gone and she didn’t seem able to grasp what that meant for the immediate future.
She leaned forward. “Could we drive past my studio?”
Healey glanced instinctively at Charlie, who shot her a concerned glance. “You know you can’t stop or go inside.”
“I know. I need to see the place, to make it real. I feel like the fire was something that happened in a TV show, that it’s fiction, not that my home and business are really gone.”
“Okay.” He spoke to Healey. “Don’t even slow. Cruise by and—” to her “—don’t even think about putting down a window. We’re only doing this because no one will see you through the tinted glass.”
“Okay.” He didn’t have to do this, so she managed a small smile. “Thanks.”
The limo cruised through the insanity of midtown traffic. After the utter peace of the mountains, the honking and sirens and noise of millions of people living their lives seemed loud and jarring, even in the relative quiet of the limo.
As they got closer to SoHo, her spine began to tingle. It was a stress reaction she’d had since she was a teenager. Her stomach felt strange, too, as though she were coming down with something.
The streets grew familiar, her neighborhood was upon them busy with shoppers and tourists and the residents of the area. Her neighbors and customers.
She all but pressed her face to the glass of the window, straining for the first glimpse of her place. Maybe they’d played some kind of cruel joke on her, maybe her studio was standing, its bright blue door as inviting as ever. Her store full of customers buying her ready-to-wear collection and ordering custom pieces.
Then she saw it.
She didn’t realize she’d made a sound until she heard a cry of distress bounce through the air.
A warm hand took hers in a hard grasp and she held on tight to Charlie.
Amanda didn’t say a word. In fact, she didn’t even turn her head, as though she couldn’t bear to look.
Traffic crawled so Lexy had plenty of time to take in the bubbled, blackened paint, the broken windows, the dirty trickles where the fire hoses had done their work. Charred beams were visible, her pretty window display a sooty mess.
Crime scene tape stretched across the doorway and yellow wooden barriers kept the pedestrians streaming around the building—she supposed there was some danger that something could fall on them from above. But her home and business were like an infected patient no one would go near.
From nowhere, tears blurred her vision and clogged her throat. That was her life, her business, her future. Black, burned, over.
There were commissions, of course. Clients and customers who had hired her to do a job. Her spine straightened against the leather upholstery as hot, cleansing anger roared through her, sweeping away her feelings of loss and self-pity.
She would do he
r job. She’d finish those commissions, just as soon as she and Pendegraff nailed whoever was responsible for this senseless destruction.
“You okay?” he said softly beside her.
She shook her head. Not ready yet for anyone to see her face. “But I’m angry. And getting angrier by the minute. I want whoever did this nailed. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.”
“That’s the spirit.”
He squeezed her hand and let go and she missed the warmth, the sense that he might be a thief and a kidnapper and a thousand other things she wouldn’t approve of, but for some reason, she trusted him.
“Let’s get to the hotel and get planning.”
“Can I go home?” Amanda asked. “I need to check my messages and water my plants.”
Charlie asked Healey, “Can she?”
The man in the front nodded. “Nobody’s shown any interest. She should be fine. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Amanda narrowed her gaze. “You stay away from me or I’ll call the cops.”
Suddenly the limo jerked sideways, pulled over to a curb and Healey turned around. Lexy had never seen him show expression before, so his anger was impressive. “Charlie, how long have I been working for you?”
“About five years.”
“And in those five years have I ever had sex with one of our clients, or anybody remotely connected to our business?”
“No.”
Amanda made a rude noise. “And I would believe that why?”
“Because it’s true,” Charlie said. “Amanda, I’m as pissed off with Healey as you are. What he did was dangerous, unprofessional and completely out of character for him. I can only assume that he’s lost his mind or he has feelings for you.” He turned to the driver. “Which is it, Healey?”
The man glared at all three of them in the back. “There’s nothing wrong with my mind,” he informed them with dignity. Then faced forward and pulled the limo back out into traffic.
13
THE PLAZA WAS LIKE Central Park, or the MoMA, or Saks, part of the fabric of her life, but not a place where Lexy spent a lot of time. She’d had brunch or drinks at the Plaza a few times, but she’d never even seen one of the guest rooms, so even with the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach since she’d seen the fire damage, she still managed a jolt of anticipation as they entered the landmark hotel.