Too Hot to Handle

by Nancy Warren

  “You’ve got a good eye. What did you pay for it?”

  A low chuckle was his answer. “It was a gift for Lexy. I don’t want her knowing how much I paid.”

  The smile was growing thinner by the moment. “Ms. Drake, you’re a jeweler. What’s your estimate of the value of the piece you’re wearing?”

  She paused, as though she’d never considered anything so vulgar as value. She glanced down at the sparkling stones winking up at her.

  “I’d estimate that a collection of emeralds and diamonds of this size and quality would run close to a million dollars.”

  “That’s a pretty good guess, my dear. To me, of course, there’s the added sentimental value. That necklace holds fond memories.”

  “Forgive me,” said Charlie, “but I don’t ever recall seeing it before. Surely if your wife had worn it I’d have noticed. I’ve a good memory for jewelry. That’s one of the reasons I bought this piece. It was unique.”

  “You’re right. As I said, it’s got sentimental value and also I’ve kept it very private.”

  “Well, I guess there’s more than one of them around after all. I assure you, the person who sold this to me is no thief.”

  Grayson’s fingers tapped his immaculate desk surface sounding like machine-gun fire.

  “I’m sure your insurers will be able to compensate you for the loss if the police don’t have any luck locating your property.” Charlie blew a few smoke rings.

  “Well, that’s the problem right there. I never insured the piece. As you’ve noted, my wife never wore it, and I thought I had it safe. Somehow, it was discovered and stolen.”

  “Odd that your wife’s truly stunning collection of diamonds that she’s wearing this evening weren’t also taken.”

  “Yes. That was a lucky thing.” Grayson opened a desk drawer and drew out a bank ledger. Old-fashioned and somehow commanding. “Let me get right to the point. I’d like to buy the necklace from you. Never mind what you paid. If we take Lexy’s rough evaluation and add, let’s say another half a million for your time and trouble, shall we say a million and a half?”

  “You want to buy my necklace?” Lexy said, doing her best to appear astonished and hurt. “But I couldn’t part with it. It was Charlie’s first real gift to me.”

  “With a million and a half, I’m sure Charlie could buy you something more useful. An apartment perhaps. I believe you are currently homeless, Ms. Drake.”

  An apartment was not the most tactful item to bring up since he must know that she’d been burned out of her last home thanks to him. A shiver ran over her skin as she thought how truly deadly this old choir boy was.

  Charlie looked perfectly unconcerned. “Up to you, babe. The necklace is yours.” Like the most useless playboy bazillionaire, as though a million here or there didn’t really bother him so long as it didn’t make him late for his polo match.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Grayson. I’ve had so many compliments on my necklace tonight I’d hate to part with it. Besides, I’m not the kind of girl who sells presents somebody bought her.” She shot Charlie a particularly intimate smile. “Particularly not somebody really special.”

  Grayson hadn’t become a bazillionaire himself by wasting his time. It was obvious she wasn’t going to change her mind, so he put the ledger carefully back in his drawer. She had a moment when she wondered whether he’d pull out a gun next and force her to give up the goods but as Charlie had predicted, he couldn’t do that, not with the party going on downstairs. Not when half the people there had complimented Lexy on her fine necklace.

  “Well, my dear, if you ever change your mind and decide to sell, do let me know. It’s astonishingly like the one I lost.”

  “I will. And I hope you find yours.” What she really meant was, I hope you get yours.

  “Let’s go back and join the party, shall we?”

  The men put out their cigars and the three of them retraced their quiet steps, whooshed down in the elevator and rejoined the gala.

  “And the curtain closes on Act One,” Charlie said softly.

  19

  THE LINE OF LIMOS stretched as the guests made their way home at the end of the evening. Lexy caught her father, one of the cops on the detail, and he looked visibly relieved when he saw her and Charlie get into their limo, driven, of course, by Healey.

  “They following?” Charlie asked as they pulled away and headed toward the hotel.

  “Yep.”

  “You know what to do.”

  “Sure do.” Healey shot a glance at the pair of them. “Be careful.”

  The limo dropped them at the hotel and after the doorman helped Lexy out, followed by Charlie, it pulled away.

  They walked into the hotel lobby. Charlie checked for messages. There were none.

  They rode the elevator up to their floor. Entered their suite. Charlie flipped on lights. Came up behind her.

  He kissed the back of her neck, making her shiver. “I’d love to peel you out of these clothes and make love to you right now, but honey, we’ve got to move.”

  She nodded. They’d rehearsed this part already.

  He unfastened the necklace, placed it carefully in a plain black jewelry case. Then he opened the original Isabella Emeralds box where an identical necklace lay. The one Lexy and Amanda had sweated over. “You did an amazing job.”

  “Let’s hope I didn’t waste my time and your money.”

  He put the box into the in-room safe, locking it carefully. Then he and Lexy stripped out of their clothes and slipped into their waiting jeans and sweaters. She was thankful for her new boots and the coat. She wrapped the scarf around her throat. Gloves would have been nice but she didn’t have any. It couldn’t be helped.

  She took their discarded evening clothes and scattered them in a seductive trail toward one of the bedrooms while he took pillows and made two vaguely human-size sausages in the middle of the bed.

  Within ten minutes they’d turned out the lights and exited the suite. He was carrying a black leather bag. She didn’t even ask. Moving swiftly to the stairs, they ran lightly down, and down, and down.

  She was out of breath by the time they’d scooted out a back door and headed to where a slick, powerful-looking black motorcycle waited.

  He unzipped the black bag and pulled out a helmet. “You ever ridden on one of these?”

  She grinned at him. “All around Europe. The summer of my Italian boyfriend.”

  He tossed her the helmet. Also black. “You’re experienced, then.”

  “Oh, yeah.” She put the helmet on, tucking her hair underneath. Charlie put his own helmet on and then climbed onto the bike. She swung a leg over and snugged up behind him on the pillion, settling into a posture she remembered well.

  They roared off into the night. Even though she had her arms wrapped around Charlie’s waist, her hands still quickly chilled against the cool night air. It was three in the morning and New York was still busy with cabs, emergency vehicles and garbage trucks.

  She had no idea where they were going and it was typical of this bizarre adventure that she hadn’t bothered to ask. She knew Charlie had a plan, had thrown him her trust as easily as he’d thrown her the bike helmet. Maybe it was crazy, but ever since he’d entered her studio mere days ago, her life had been nothing but insane.

  If the adventure ended well, and she really, really hoped it did, there’d be no reason for them to stay together. She wasn’t the kind of woman men showered with million-dollar necklaces. She never aspired to wear the big-ticket bling; she’d always appreciated individual design rather than the number of karats something represented. Style over dollar value.

  She didn’t belong in Charlie’s world any more than she belonged at that fancy gala tonight. Still, it had been fun playing Cinderella at the ball. Now, her dress had turned into jeans, her limo into a motorbike and her fancy necklace into evidence to catch a murderer.

  That was the plan, anyway. But plans, as she knew well, didn’t always go, well, a
ccording to plan.

  The motorcycle dipped as he took turns fast and she stayed with him, leaning into his body, letting the bike do its thing. She didn’t fight the movement, so the three of them—bike, Charlie and her—moved as one.

  The adrenaline was still pumping through her system and somehow a ride through the night was perfect.

  He slowed, pulled out a pass and brought it to a sensor; then a gate opened and they sped through into a garage. He parked and they dismounted.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “My place.” He kissed her swiftly. “I promised you I was going to make love to you in my bed.”

  He walked to an elevator. He needed to punch in a code to use it, she noted. Pretty good security in this building. The elevator took them straight to the top floor and then opened into a small foyer with only one door.

  Another code, and a finger scan, and then the door opened.

  “Cool,” she said and walked inside.

  And her mouth fell open. It was like walking into an interior designer’s vision of what Lexy had always secretly dreamed of. The apartment was huge, with high ceilings, open beams, a circular staircase to a second level.

  The walls were decorated with bold, original art. She walked straight to the window and looked out on the river.

  “This is amazing.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You took me to a hotel when you have this?” She waved her arm around the apartment.

  “Didn’t know you well enough.”

  “Now you do?”

  He walked toward her, put a hand to the back of her head, pulled her forward for a kiss. “Now, I do.”

  His cell phone rang. He answered, “Yeah, Healey.” Checked his watch and nodded. “Right on time. No. Let Jed know, make sure you follow them.”

  “Yeah. I will.”

  He ended the call. Turned to her. “Dumbass One and Dumbass Two just entered the hotel.”

  She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Grayson took the bait.”

  “Yep. Now let’s hope those boys can manage to break in to the safe and steal the emeralds.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe we made it too difficult for them putting the jewels in the safe. I should have left them out on the bureau.”

  “We talked about this,” she reminded him. “If we made it too easy he might sense a trap. I’m sure they’ll figure out a way to get into that safe.”

  “And lead us straight to Papa.”

  Charlie withdrew a flat box from inside his leather coat. Opened it carefully.

  “How’d they survive the trip?” She peeked over his shoulder. The Isabella Emeralds winked at her.

  “I guess they’ve survived shipwrecks, airline travel and who knows what else in five centuries. A motorcycle ride wasn’t going to bother them.”

  She touched a deep green emerald with her fingertip. “I wonder how long it will take him to spot the fake.”

  “Initially he’ll see what he wants to see. His necklace. We have the element of surprise on our side, plus his own greed and mania working against him. A man who would be willing to kill three people to keep those gems all to himself couldn’t be too sane.”

  “No. Which only makes him more dangerous.”

  “I agree. So we play it safe. Your part in this little drama is over.”

  She wasn’t going to argue with the man at this time of the morning, but she really didn’t think her part was over. Not yet.

  “I know that necklace wasn’t the real Isabella one, but even so, you put out a lot of money buying real stones.”

  He shrugged. “The man tried to kill me and you. I have a vested interest in taking him down.”

  “I just hope the tracking device is hidden well enough. If I’d had more time, I’d have done a better job.”

  “Honey, you are way too much of a perfectionist. I swear when I first looked at them side by side, I couldn’t tell the difference. Besides, we don’t want him believing he’s got the real gems or we’ll never get him. He’s got to figure out we conned him.”

  “That’s twice now he’s tried to get the necklace back and failed. He seems like the kind of guy who’s going to be very unhappy when he figures that out.”

  “And I hope I’m around to see it.” He took her arm in his. “Let’s go track our package.”

  She ought to be dead tired, but she still felt wired, so she followed him to his office on the upper level. She wasn’t really surprised to see another set of security measures before the heavy door opened and she entered a large office with enough equipment to run NATO.

  “Have a seat,” he said, pulling out a high-tech office chair and pulling it next to a similar chair that sat in front of a large-screen monitor. He fired up the computer, typed in a few commands and chuckled. “There it is. On the move.”

  It was amazingly cool to watch the blip that was the GPS tracking device making its way through a computerized street map. As they’d hoped, it was headed toward the Grayson mansion.

  “I guess they figured out how to break in to the safe after all.”

  “Guess so.”

  “You sound awfully pleased with yourself.”

  “I am.” He gripped her thigh in a warm clasp. “We did it. He swallowed the bait.”

  They watched until the blip stopped moving. “Do you suppose it’s in his safe?”

  “Or under his pillow. I doubt he’s going to put it around his next mistress’s neck.”

  She shuddered. “When do you think he’ll figure out it’s not the original?”

  “If he’s the fanatical collector I think he is, he’s going to have an expert verify that it’s unharmed. That’s when he’ll figure it out. If we’re lucky, that will be tomorrow.”

  “What if he doesn’t call anyone in?”

  “Then we call the cops. Tell them about the break-in and about the lucky security measures we took to protect the necklace. They’ll track the stolen goods to Grayson.”

  They watched the stationary blip for a few more minutes. “Well, looks like the action’s over for tonight.” He glanced at her. “Ready for bed?”

  She nodded.

  “Tired?” The skin around his eyes crinkled and just the tips of his lips tilted up. It was one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen.

  Slowly she shook her head.

  He spun her chair so they were facing each other. “So, you want to go to bed, but you’re not tired?”

  “That’s right.”

  He leaned over, cupping her face with his palm, reaching around to the back of her head and unfastening her hair so it tumbled, glossy and dark, bouncing around her shoulders. “I do like your hair,” he said, sifting the strands through his fingers.

  “Thanks.”

  “Know what else I like?”

  She shook her head.

  “A little something called the Lyons Stagecoach.”

  She clapped her hands over her eyes. “A gentleman would never bring that up.”

  He was laughing as he pulled her hands away and kissed her fingers. “A gentleman always tries to give a lady what she wants.”

  Half embarrassed, half turned on, she followed him as he led her to his big, gorgeous bed. He undressed her slowly, as though her jeans and sweater were a fancy evening gown, then he stripped off his own clothes.

  She was so hot for him she couldn’t believe they’d had sex most of the afternoon.

  He pushed her back onto the bed and they rolled and played, naked and silly. The relief that everything was going according to plan was enormous. He kissed her, touched her everywhere, then sitting in the middle of the bed, he pulled her onto his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. While they kissed, he reached down and began to play with her, getting her hot and juicy. She climbed onto him, easing him into her body, then leaned back on her hands; he leaned back on his and they started to rock the stagecoach.

  “Why do you like it so much?” he asked, half panting.

 
; “I like the slide, the way you hit my G-spot, the amount of control I have.”

  “I like the view,” he said, grinning.

  Excitement was building, building, she could hear them both panting, and then her head fell back, her hair cascaded down her back and she came in a great swamp of feeling. Seconds later she heard his cry of release. She leaned forward, slumped on top of him, knocking him onto his back, falling with him.

  “Is it really your favorite?” he asked when they could speak again.

  She kissed his chest. “It’s right up there.” But then so was everything else they’d done. “I’m glad you knew,” she murmured drowsily.

  He kissed her hair. “Me, too.”

  20

  “GOOD MORNING.”

  Charlie turned from contemplation of the morning paper to see Lexy wrapped in his robe. Her hair was a glorious mess, mostly because he’d had his hands in it so often in the night, and then she’d done some mussing of her own, he recalled, thrashing her head back and forth on the pillow.

  “Good morning.”

  Her skin looked extra pale against the navy silk of the robe, and its size made her appear particularly dainty. Her bare feet were long and he loved the dark purple color on her toenails.

  “Want some breakfast?”

  She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. “Coffee?”

  “Fresh pot.”

  “Heaven.” But she didn’t head straight for the kitchen; she came toward him and gave him a quick kiss. “Did we get any sleep last night?”

  He grinned. “Not much.”

  Stifling her own smile and another yawn, she headed for the kitchen. “Time is it?”

  “After eleven.”

  He’d thought about waking her earlier, but she’d been sleeping like a woman who needed the sleep. He folded the paper, watched her sip coffee the way a vampire might suck blood, greedily, as though her very life depended on it.

  “I need to run back to the hotel and discover the break-in. You want to come or hang out here?”

  She looked startled. “You’d trust me here alone? What if I pushed the wrong button in mission control up there and started a war?”