“The prime objective is locating the art treasures by finding out who shot the ambassador and threatened you. For this, the prime operatives, Shadow and his Dragon Lady, are undercover. Sorry,” he said with a dry laugh, “bad choice of words. But the idea is worth considering.”
The hotel had been designed to blend with the old wrought iron balconies and ornate trim of the buildings in the French Quarter. Inside the atrium, moss green wrought iron rails were draped with garlands sprinkled with twinkling white lights and pink bows to match the hot pink color of the walls. In the center, a fifty-foot tree strung with more white lights and frosted with artificial snow looked very real. Cheerful Christmas carols played softly as the guests moved purposefully along.
Conner quickly checked them in and headed down a private corridor almost hidden from view. He stepped into the glass cubicle and inserted his card. As the small elevator moved smoothly up the side of the atrium, Conner felt that prickle of ice zipper down his spine. He glanced down at the lobby, looking for an explanation. They were being watched.
“Something wrong, Conner?” Erica studied his face, then glanced around the hotel. She was too observant, realizing instantly that he was uneasy. Conner swore silently. It wasn’t like him to allow his feelings to show. At least not his true ones.
But the uneasiness was still there and he knew better than to ignore his intuition. He reached out and pulled Erica into his arms. “Smile, darling. It’s show time.”
Her instinctive resistance was quickly covered by the touch of Conner’s lips. She wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of feelings his kiss set off. For just a second she responded, then realized what she was doing and began to struggle.
Conner slid his lips to her ear. “Act like we’re lovers, dammit. Somebody is watching us.”
Erica stopped fighting him and reluctantly allowed him to reestablish the kiss. The pressure of his lips changed, became more gentle, asking.
And that asking changed everything.
When he finally pulled back, he planted a surprisingly chaste kiss on her forehead and let out a deep ragged breath. “First thing you have to learn is to follow directions.”
Erica gasped, gave a convincing lurch, and came down on his toe with the heel of her shoe. Between gestures of concern, she gave him her most charming smile and said, “And the first tiling you have to learn is to ask, not order!” She cut her eyes back toward the curved walkway around the rooms. “Who’s watching us?”
“I don’t know.”
She moistened her lips and nodded her head. “Uh-huh. Here we are, two people in an elevator, at least two hundred feet away from anybody, and you know we’re being watched. How?”
“Instinct. Believe me, I’m never wrong.”
A second elevator slid past them going down, an elevator with one occupant—a man with his back turned.
“Is your office a part of your suite? Conner?”
“No. The office is on the third floor.”
“How many offices do you have?”
“Paradox, Inc. is headquartered in Virginia, but I have branches like this in Vienna, London, and San Francisco.”
Erica jerked her gaze to meet his. “No office in Germany?”
His clipped no and the opening of the elevator door forestalled another question.
She followed him into a foyer, trying to ignore the lingering taste of his mouth on hers, and fighting her growing instinct to run. He used his key to open a door to the right and they stepped inside. The room was exquisite. Her aunt had always said that old money was quiet, and new money was loud. She was wrong. If this suite were any indication, Conner’s new money was a mere whisper of elegance.
Erica slipped off her black coat and stood in the middle of the parlor. “Sterling’s work?” she asked.
“Not the suite.” He locked the door and with one flick of the switch turned on the two lamps on either side of the couch. “But she found the hotel.”
“When do I get to meet this paragon of good taste and unique abilities?”
“You don’t. Sterling never leaves the Virginia office. That is your bedroom,” he said, nodding to a room opening off the parlor. “I have some calls to make, then we’ll have dinner.”
“I prefer to eat in my room.”
“We’ll dine in the Bienville Restaurant on top of the building. They serve an eclectic variety of excellent food, but more than that, Brighton Kilgore has a reservation for dinner this evening.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Mac.” Conner glanced at his watch and started toward a door at the opposite end of the room. “It’s six o’clock. I dine at eight every night.”
Erica bit back a sharp retort. Better save her disagreements for battles that counted. Besides, she was tired. She’d had little rest the night before. What she needed now was an aspirin and a shower.
Still, she didn’t intend to make anything easy for Conner. “Every night at eight? How predictably dull. Shadow has certainly changed.”
He stopped and turned back to face her. “Believe me, Dragon Lady, there’s nothing dull about Shadow. I still enjoy certain pleasures. And now I’m in a position to make sure they’re available.”
She laughed uneasily. “I would have thought those pleasures came a little later in the evening for a worldly man like you.”
“I have developed a weakness for chocolate, especially after midnight.”
Erica felt a lurch in her belly. A picture flashed across her mind of dark sweet chocolate drizzled across her nude body. “Everybody knows that eating after midnight isn’t good for you.”
“I’ve found that everybody isn’t always right.”
“Really?”
“I make up my own mind and I’m honest about my weaknesses.”
She looked at him, unable to stop herself.
“It’s true,” he whispered. “I told you that honesty is important to me, Erica. I never lie.”
She raised her eyebrows in challenge. “There’s always a first time.”
“Maybe, but this isn’t it.”
He was telling her she could trust him. Dare she? “How can I be sure?”
“It isn’t midnight yet.”
Behind her closed door Erica listened for a moment to make certain that Conner wasn’t going to follow her. Then she moved toward the cherry desk by the window and picked up the phone.
From memory, she punched in Mac’s number and was rewarded by an instant answer.
“Mac, this is Erica. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to call Conner back. This isn’t going to work out. I think it would be better if I handled this myself.”
“Erica, Conner is your best chance of getting to the bottom of these attempts on your life. I think you ought to put your personal objections aside and work with him.”
“How’s Ambassador Collins?”
“Still frightened, but improving.”
“All right, Mac, I’ll go along with Conner—for now. But I wish you’d speak to him about … about …”
“About what, Erica?”
“Never mind. It wouldn’t do any good anyway.”
Mac laughed. “Don’t I know it?”
Erica hung up the phone, hearing the unmistakable click that told her Conner had been listening. He hadn’t heard anything, but his audacity made her angry. Two could play whatever game he was playing.
He wanted New Orleans to take notice of Conner Preston and Erica Fallon. She’d make certain they did. She glanced in the mirror and knew it would take more than a nap to make that happen. She’d buy herself a new dress all right, one that would make Brighton Kilgore sit up and take notice. At the same time, she’d teach Conner not to underestimate her.
Instead of taking a bath and a rest as she’d been told, Erica slipped out of the suite to go shopping.
Conner, hearing the click of the suite door swore and pulled his jacket back on. He waited inside until he heard her get on the elevator. Where was she going? Was she meet
ing someone? He’d heard only part of her telephone conversation with Mac. Another elevator slid open and he stepped in. His was just above and to the side of hers. She was alone.
In the lobby, Conner hung back to listen and watch as she headed for the concierge desk.
“Where is the nearest dress shop?” she asked.
“We have a lovely boutique right here in the hotel,” the woman replied, and directed Erica across the lobby.
Conner was forced to skirt the atrium to remain hidden, though Erica seemed so intent on her errand that he wasn’t sure she would have noticed him following her.
Once inside, Erica browsed through the rack of garments and frowned as she studied the price tags. The store had two entrances that Conner could see; the one into the hotel lobby, and another that led to the street. Conner hid himself by a rack where he could see both doors.
When Erica moved out of view into a dressing room with several dresses over her arm, Conner beckoned to the proprietor. “The lady is my fiancée and we just had a fight. She always shops to punish me. It makes her feel better. I’ll pay for what she buys, but if she sees me she’s liable to go out the back door. I mean—if there is one. Is there?”
“No, sir.”
He relaxed and leaned back against one of the building supports. “Don’t tell her I’m here,” he said with a wink. “I’m supposed to be surprised.”
The proprietor nodded. She wanted to make the sale as much as Conner wanted her to.
The first dress was midnight blue, entirely too short and sassy. As she turned from side to side before the mirror, he could see flashes of lace at the top of her thigh-high hose. Don’t you dare buy that dress, Erica. The last thing I want to do is fight off every man who looks at you.
She took one last look at the price tag and shook her head. Conner let out a deep breath of relief when she reappeared moments later in a black dress. It covered every inch of her, from her chin to the floor. Until she turned around. The dress had no back. He swallowed hard. Erica had to be wearing the world’s smallest bikini, or nothing at all.
“Could you come in here, please?” she called out to the clerk.
Conner almost took a step forward. The woman shook him off. “You’re not here,” she whispered. “Remember?”
He nodded. “Let her think she’s charged it and put it on my tab—Suite 1601.”
The clerk nodded and vanished into the room, then returned carrying a red dress across her arm, a dress that Conner never saw modeled. Moments later Erica appeared in her regular clothes, stopped at a rack he couldn’t see clearly, then handed something sparkly to the woman ringing up her purchases. Next she riffled through her wallet and pulled out a credit card.
“The only other thing I need is a pair of heels, red. No, silver.”
In a loud voice, the proprietor of the shop directed her to a shoe store next door.
Damn, he hadn’t counted on that. Now he had to scramble to catch up and still remain hidden.
Erica, arms filled with packages, stepped out onto the sidewalk and was swept up in the throng of office workers, Christmas shoppers, and tourists. He’d almost reached her, when he saw a man step up directly behind her. He gave her a deliberate push, sending the packages in one direction and Erica in the other.
Conner dodged a shopper and came abreast of Erica just as the man melted into the crowd and disappeared. He couldn’t leave Erica alone to go after him. Conner swore and knelt beside Erica, who was white-faced and shaken.
“Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m not hurt,” she snapped. “What are you doing here?”
“Let’s get back inside, darling, and examine your knee,” he said, biting back an admonishment for the risk she’d taken. He took her packages in one hand and held her arm tightly with the other, giving her no chance to disagree.
Inside the lobby, he slid his arm around her shoulder and walked her across the atrium.
“How dare you follow me?”
“Erica, may I remind you that your life is in danger? Suppose he’d pushed you into the street?”
“Well, he didn’t. As you said, it’s obvious he doesn’t want me dead. He just wants my attention. He got it.” She rubbed her knee.
“Mr. Preston, I saw what happened.” The worried doorman had followed them inside. “Is Miss Fallon hurt?”
“I don’t think so,” Conner answered.
“Shall I send for the house doctor?”
“What about it, darling?”
“No—no, really, I’m fine.”
With a show of concern, Conner inclined his head so that they were almost touching. “If you’d said something, I’d have arranged to have a selection of clothes brought directly to our suite for your approval.”
“I wanted to make my own choices,” Erica said between barely clenched teeth. She shrugged her shoulders, trying to put some space between them.
Conner held tighter. “Move it, Erica,” he growled under his breath. “This isn’t the kind of attention I wanted to draw.”
For a moment Erica felt the blood drain from her head. She swayed, catching on to his arm automatically, else she would have fallen.
Conner took one look at her face and handed the packages to a hovering bellman. “What’s wrong, Erica?”
She could only shake her head.
Conner tightened his grip on her waist and steered her onto the elevator. “Are you sure you weren’t hurt?” he asked, concern overriding his arrogance.
She caught the iron rail that circled the elevator as it began to rise. “If you don’t let me go, Conner, it won’t be the floor of the elevator I’ll hit. And I don’t care who is watching.”
Conner understood her reaction. She was covering her fear with anger. The incident on the sidewalk had to have been more frightening than she’d let on.
Moments later they were back inside the suite. “How did you plan to get back in here?” Conner asked, holding up the room key. “The elevator won’t leave the lobby without the right key.”
“Then give me one.”
“I don’t think so. I see now that I can’t trust you.”
“Conner,” she began wearily, “you may be some kind of superman, but you aren’t my lord and master. We’re going to have to reach an understanding about that.”
“What did he say to you, Erica?” he asked abruptly, changing the subject.
“Just like before. He says he wants the book. He said he could get to me anywhere.”
“Damn! Did you recognize him?”
“No. I don’t even know if he was the same one who shot at the ambassador. That man was wearing a ski mask and his voice was muffled.”
She headed toward her bedroom. The earlier need for an aspirin had reached gigantic proportions. “You can forget about going to dinner.”
“Why? Unless I miss my guess, this box contains a dress.”
“Yes, but I was going to buy a pair of shoes, when I was torpedoed.”
“You don’t have another pair?”
“Not to match my dress.”
“What kind of shoes do you need?”
She rubbed her knee and gave a disbelieving laugh. “What else? Silver slippers. High-heeled silver slippers.”
FIVE
“Are you sure we have to do this?” Erica asked as she followed the maître d’ to a choice table in the center of the restaurant.
Conner’s hand felt like a hot iron at the small of her back. That combined with the stare of every eye in the place made her want to disappear into the thick carpet beneath her feet. Conner had wanted them to be seen. His plan was working—too well. The red dress she’d chosen with the idea of making Conner sorry he’d planned the evening clung to her body like a second skin. The moment they stepped into the restaurant, she’d regretted her decision. But it was too late to back down now.
“I like your dress,” Conner whispered. “All you need to complete the look is a pair of those long red gloves and a cigarette holder.”
&
nbsp; Erica blanched and smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her skirt. “What look?”
“The Dragon Lady. Isn’t that what you had in mind when you picked this dress?”
She wasn’t sure he’d caught on to her plan until she saw the hungry look in his eyes. Her trick had backfired. Conner pulled out a chair and waited for Erica to take her seat.
“I did not expect you to …” she began in a sharp voice. “I intended to look—”
“Desirable?”
He gave her a quick kiss behind one ear and settled into the chair across the table. “It worked. I like it better than the other two dresses you tried on.”
“You were watching?”
“Of course. I take my protection duties seriously.”
Before she let go with another tirade about his manipulation of her life, Erica accepted the menu offered to her and glanced at it. Their overly solicitous host identified their waiter and wine steward, then discreetly disappeared.
“I don’t want to be Dragon Lady,” she snapped. “I’m not even sure I want to be Erica Fallon. And stop hovering over me.”
Conner opened his menu. “You don’t like all this attention?”
“Your attention isn’t free. I just don’t know yet what it’s going to cost.”
“You’re right, you don’t.”
A short time later, after he’d ordered for them in perfect Italian, Conner leaned across the table and smiled. “So, we’ll give you another name. What about Gypsy? Or maybe one of the characters out of a Bond movie? What was that woman’s name—Cat? Kitty?”
“Conner! Stop it.” Erica lifted her wineglass and took a deep swallow. “This isn’t a game.”
“Ah, but it is. We’re playing cat and mouse. I’m the cat and you’re the cheese. We’re waiting for the mouse to appear. And, unless I miss my guess, here he comes.”
As a tall, rail-thin figure moved in their direction, Conner took Erica’s hand, lifting it gallantly to his lips for a kiss.
“What are you doing?”
“Playing the part of a man in love, Erica. Hello, Kilgore, nice to see you.”
Conner released Erica’s hand as he stood to greet the man who was staring at them curiously.
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