Played

by Barbara Freethy

  “Do you live here in San Francisco?” she asked. “You said you went to college at Cal.”

  “No, I live in LA. I followed Evan here a few weeks ago. I’m staying at a hotel on Van Ness until I catch him. Then I’ll go home.”

  “They don’t have agents in San Francisco who can catch him?”

  “Evan is mine,” J.T. said firmly. “The office here will assist me if I need help.”

  “So you’re kind of the Lone Ranger at the moment.”

  “If you want to call it that. I can request whatever backup I need at a moment’s notice.” That wasn’t completely true. In actuality, his boss had wanted to pull him off Evan, saying it was time to bring in someone new, someone with perspective and a fresh eye. J.T. had to prove that he could catch Evan, that he could close the deal, not just for his own personal reasons but also for his professional future. “Are you ready to go?”

  Christina cocked her head to one side, her gaze speculative. “Not yet. I have a question for you.”

  “Now look who’s the curious one. What’s the question?”

  “What does J.T. stand for?”

  He smiled. “I’m afraid I don’t know you well enough to share that information.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Really? How well would I need to know you to get the answer to that question?”

  He closed the gap between them. “Do you want me to tell you?”

  The air between them sizzled with tension. Blood roared through his veins. He felt as if they were on the brink of...something....

  Then Christina moved away -- in retreat. It was a smart move, but disappointing all the same.

  “I don’t actually care that much,” she said with a breezy wave of her hand.

  Her words were casual, but he noticed she took care not to look at him. She always did that when she was lying, he realized. She glanced away, and she fidgeted with her hair, tucking one strand behind her ear. She couldn’t stand still, gaze into his eyes, and tell a lie. He filed that information away, figuring he’d need it -- probably sooner than later.

  When he didn’t say anything else, Christina walked over to the table and picked up her purse, a small red piece of leather no bigger than his wallet. “We should go. Alexis hates it when people are late, especially her employees.”

  “I guess we’re changing the subject.”

  “I guess we are,” she said.

  “Fine.” He followed her to the door. “Tell me more about Alexis. Is she a tough boss?”

  “Very demanding. But I respect her drive and her intense desire to make Barclay’s as good as it can be.” Christina locked the door behind them. “Are you driving or am I?”

  “Me,” he said.

  “Figures. You hate to give up control, don’t you?”

  “When it comes to driving, yes,” he admitted.

  “When it comes to everything,” she muttered.

  “I heard that.”

  “You were supposed to.” She flashed him a smile. “Stairs or elevator? Wait, let me guess. Stairs. Then you can go as fast as you want. You have complete and total control over the situation.”

  “Are you calling me a control freak?” he asked as they walked out to his car.

  “If the shoe fits.”

  “You seem to enjoy being in charge as well,” he commented as he unlocked her car door.

  “But I don’t have to be in control; hence I can sit in the passenger seat and not complain.”

  “You can sit in the passenger seat,” he agreed. “The not-complaining part I’ll reserve judgment on. And who says ‘hence’ anymore?”

  “People who read a lot,” she answered as he slid behind the wheel. “Those people say ‘hence.’”

  He smiled to himself as he started the car. He liked the fire in her eyes, her quick wit, her sharp tongue. He also loved the way she smelled, like wildflowers on a summer breeze. In the quiet intimacy of the car he was acutely aware of her presence, every move that she made, even the sound of her breathing. He cracked the window slightly. The evening air cooled off the heat building in his body. Catching Evan would be difficult enough. He didn’t need to complicate matters by getting tangled up with Christina, and man, did he want to get tangled up with her. He’d like to slide his hands up her slender, bare legs, feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers, watch her eyes widen with desire and her lips part with anticipation.

  He rolled the window all the way down.

  “Are you hot?” Christina asked.

  That was a loaded question. A lot of answers came to mind, none of them appropriate, so he simply rolled up the window and said, “Sorry. So tell me again who will be at this shindig?”

  “First of all, I wouldn’t call it a ‘shindig’ in front of Alexis. She may have blue-collar roots, but she considers herself San Francisco blue blood these days.”

  “Blue-collar roots?” he queried.

  “Alexis was working as a clerk in an antiques store when Jeremy Kensington came in one day and asked her out. They had a whirlwind romance, and eventually the shop girl became the wife of one of San Francisco’s most prominent businessmen. It was quite a Cinderella story. Jeremy’s father founded Barclay’s. Jeremy ran it himself for a while, but was actually thinking of selling the business until he met Alexis. I believe he gave her Barclay’s as a wedding present. She took over and has never looked back. In fact, Jeremy rarely comes into Barclay’s anymore, with the exception of this exhibit. He runs an investment company as well, and I think that usually takes up most of his attention.”

  “Why would this exhibit encourage Jeremy to spend more time at Barclay’s?”

  “Probably because of the diamond and the overall value of the auction. There has also been a lot of media interest, and both Jeremy and Alexis like good press. They’re very public people. The success of this particular auction will definitely move Barclay’s into the big leagues.”

  “So Alexis and Jeremy have a lot at stake. Especially Alexis, because Barclay’s is her baby.”

  “I’m sure she’d like to impress Jeremy and his family as well as the rest of the world. As I recall, there was some controversy within the Kensington family when he put her in charge of the company. Not everyone was happy that the family business was going to be run by a newcomer.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Why is that interesting?” She turned sideways in her seat, a curious look in her eyes. “You make it sound as if I just gave you an important clue of some kind.”

  “I’m not sure yet why it’s interesting, but I like to know who has the most to lose and who has the most to gain in any situation. That usually takes me to the heart of the matter.” He paused. “For instance, you have a reputation to lose, one you’ve tried very hard to rebuild after you and your father left the museum in disgrace.” He shot her a quick look, but except for the frown spreading across her face, she gave away nothing. “You love your father. He raised you on his own. You want to protect him. And you’re worried that he’s back in town and interested in the diamond. That makes you vulnerable, and interesting. How am I doing so far?”

  “I thought we were discussing Alexis and what she had to lose.”

  “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “In that I’m worried about the diamond like the rest of the staff at Barclay’s? Yes. We’ll all breathe a lot easier when it’s sold tomorrow and off the premises.”

  “A very diplomatic answer.”

  “My personal life has nothing to do with my job, J.T. I keep the two separate, as I’m sure you do in your job.”

  “I don’t have a personal life, so that makes it easy.”

  “Why don’t you?” she asked.

  The curious tone in her voice made him regret opening that door. “My job can be twenty-four/seven. No time to make a relationship work,” he said shortly.

  “No time or no desire?”

  “Getting back to the diamond, I certainly hope nothing happens to it tonight while you’re all toasting the success o
f tomorrow’s auction.”

  “You don’t want to talk about your pathetic love life?” she challenged, amusement clearly evident in her eyes.

  “It’s not pathetic. I’m happy with my choices.”

  “Sure. That’s what everyone says.”

  “Do you really want to get into this conversation, Christina? Because I have a file on you, and it says that the last man you dated for more than a month was your ex-fiancé, and that was five years ago.”

  His challenging words turned off her smile. “Okay, you win. We’ll keep our love lives out of the conversation. But getting back to the diamond, as you said earlier -- why aren’t you at the auction house guarding it? Wouldn’t that be a more productive use of your time?”

  “I plan to check on it later, but Russell Kenner and that Italian guy, Luigi Murano, assured me that they have doubled their guards for the night, rechecked their cameras, and that there is no possible way anyone is getting near that vault.”

  Christina’s gaze narrowed on his face. “You don’t sound confident.”

  That was because he wasn’t confident. “I’m just hoping that Evan hasn’t maneuvered himself into the security ranks,” he said. “If he’s managed to snag himself a guard uniform and a fake ID, we could be in big trouble.”

  “I’m sure everyone has been cleared.”

  “Oh, they have,” he agreed. “I double-checked many of them myself. But Evan is a slippery snake. He slithers in and strikes you before you know he’s there.”

  “I almost want to meet him just so I can see who you’re talking about,” Christina replied.

  “I’m betting you already have met him, Christina. He had a photo taken of you at the party. I’m sure he was there. Has there been anyone in your life lately who makes you feel uncomfortable? I think you have good instincts. Maybe someone has made you uneasy, but you dismissed it for no good reason.”

  She pondered that for a moment. “David, my assistant. He makes me nervous. It could just be his ambition, or maybe his eyes. He has this way of looking at me, as if he knows something I don’t.”

  “I talked to David earlier.” J.T. reviewed the brief conversation in his head. “He’s about the right height. But I think I would have seen Evan in him somewhere. I was standing two feet away from him. Anyone else?”

  “I don’t know,” she said with a weary shrug. “Everyone seems to make me nervous lately. Even Russell Kenner has me on edge. I don’t think he trusts me. Nor does Luigi Murano. When the diamond came off my neck last night, they both looked like they wanted to accuse me of something.” She paused, meeting his gaze. “But the person who makes me the most uncomfortable is you. Maybe you’re Evan.”

  “I’m not. And we both know why I make you nervous. We’re attracted to each other.”

  She drew in a sharp breath at his blunt words. It might be a mistake, but he thought it was important that they put all the cards on the table so they could deal with them.

  “I...I...that’s not true,” she stammered.

  “It is true. It should make our plan tonight a lot easier.”

  “What plan?”

  “Alexis didn’t want me to attend as an FBI agent. She thought it would make her guests uncomfortable, at least those guests who are not Barclay’s employees. Apparently there are going to be several key buyers present tonight, as well as some press. She asked me to come as your date.” He smiled as her jaw dropped. “Good idea, don’t you think?”

  “Are you out of your mind? I’m not going as your date.”

  “Well, you do have another choice.”

  “Good, what is it?”

  “When we arrive, you can tell Alexis that you don’t want to be my date and let everyone know I’m at the party to figure out if any of them is planning to steal the diamond.”

  “Very funny,” she said sarcastically. “You know I can’t do that. Alexis would have my head.”

  “Guess you’re stuck then.” He pulled up in front of a stately two-story mansion in Pacific Heights and turned off the engine. “I think we’re here. Nice digs.”

  “The Kensingtons are old money,” she murmured.

  “I’ve never cared whether the money was old or new, as long as it was green.” He noticed she didn’t comment; nor did she seem to be in any particular hurry to get out of the car. “Relax, it won’t be so bad, Christina. I promise not to pick my teeth, use the wrong fork, or exit the bathroom with toilet paper attached to my shoe.”

  “Great. You’re a comedian as well as an FBI agent. How did I get so lucky?” she drawled.

  “You must be living right,” he said with a grin.

  “This isn’t going to work. Everyone at Barclay’s knows you’re an agent. Someone will say something.”

  “Alexis assured me that they wouldn’t.”

  “Fine.” She got out of the car and slammed the door shut. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Smile. You’re not going to the dentist. It’s a party.” He escorted her up to the front door and paused. “Before we go in, Christina, tell me something.”

  “What now?”

  “Do you kiss on the first date? Because in case you were wondering -- I do.”

  She swallowed hard. “I wasn’t wondering.” She reached past him to ring the bell, her gaze fixed on the front door as if it were the entrance to the Magic Kingdom.

  “Did you know that you never look at me when you’re lying? I find that interesting.”

  “You find everything interesting,” she muttered.

  He smiled to himself. She still wasn’t looking at him. She was one beautiful liar, and for tonight, anyway, she was his date.

  Chapter Six

  Christina was relieved when the door to the Kensingtons’ house opened. She needed to put some distance between herself and J.T. so she could catch her breath. J.T.’s mix of arrogance and charm was dangerously appealing, and when he looked at her like he wanted to kiss her, it was difficult to remember that he was an FBI agent and not her friend or her date, no matter how much he flirted with her. She couldn’t believe he’d come right out and said they were attracted to each other.

  She told herself it was just a ploy to keep her off balance, trip her up, get her to say something incriminating about herself or her father. It wasn’t going to work. She would not let him get to her -- even if she was attracted to him. Unfortunately, he was right about the inconvenient chemistry between them.

  It was his fault. He was too damn sexy. Even in a black suit, clean-shaven, with his hair slicked back, there was no mistaking his rugged physical appeal. He was all male and, for the moment, all hers.

  That thought sent a reckless shiver down her spine. Not that she was going to do anything about it. But she had to admit that when he put a hand on her back to usher her into the living room, she felt a delicious heat sweep through her. She wanted to fight the feeling. She told herself to push him away, but a little voice inside her head wondered why she had to battle every little thing.

  The last few days had been incredibly stressful. She was on pins and needles waiting for her father to contact her about the necklace. She wasn’t sure if the diamond at Barclay’s was a fake or the real thing, and in less than twenty-four hours it would go on the auction block with her name attached to the appraisal. If she made the wrong decision, she could be completely ruined. But what was the right decision? The diamond had already been verified by their European office and she had seen only one tiny discrepancy, which might mean nothing. Her doubts had no basis in fact. She was just worried because her father was back in town. If she called off the auction and it turned out the diamond was real, Barclay’s would lose a huge commission. If she let the necklace be sold and someone discovered it was a fake, she could go to jail. She had to pray that it was all in her imagination, that the diamond was real, and that nothing would happen to it before the bidding began at noon tomorrow.

  She definitely had worse things to worry about than J.T.’s hand on her back. In fact, it felt
pretty good to walk beside someone, to feel as if she were part of a couple. J.T. was right: She hadn’t dated anyone seriously in five years. She’d been gun-shy after her breakup with Paul. She’d given her heart to him, and he’d stomped all over it. So she’d put her love life on the back burner, and there it had stayed.

  And there it would stay, she reminded herself. J.T. was not her boyfriend. He was an agent on a job, and after tomorrow she’d probably never see him again.

  They mingled for the next few minutes, speaking to several of Barclay’s most avid collectors. She was somewhat surprised that J.T. could converse so easily with people he had nothing in common with. He didn’t know much about art or jewelry, but he knew how to ask intelligent questions and draw other people out. He could be very disarming when he wanted to be. And she appreciated the way he redirected the conversation every time someone wanted to ask her about the fire at the auction house. Apparently, rumors were flying over whether or not the fire was a cover-up for an attempted robbery. The incident had actually increased interest in the auction, not just the diamond but also the entire collection.

  The excitement in the room made Christina feel more optimistic. Or maybe it was the champagne. Either way, she started to relax. J.T.’s dire warnings about Evan Chadwick had encouraged her to believe the worst, but maybe the worst wouldn’t happen. Maybe the auction would go as planned. She really hoped it would.

  “Who’s that?” J.T. asked.

  She followed his gaze to a sexy, bosomy blonde in a very short black cocktail dress, who was carrying what looked like a fur ball in her arms, but on second thought was no doubt the infamous Harry, a six-pound Pomeranian dog with a thick white ruff around his neck, sharp dark eyes, and a feathery tail. “That’s Nicole Prescott,” Christina answered. “She’s the society columnist for the Tribune and can make or break a reputation. If you want to get a mention on her page, it’s important to be nice to her.”

  “What’s she carrying?”

  “Her dog, Harry. She talks about him in her column all the time.”