by Julie Kenner
“Thank you,” Mel said. Emily Radley told her not to be a stranger. Oh, Gramps was not going to believe this.
Finally they were out the door. A valet in a white coat with red epaulets trotted over to take a ticket from Kyle, then he jogged off into the dark.
“A valet?”
“My grandmother likes to go all out when she throws a party.”
“I guess so.” She licked her lips. “So, uh, thank you.”
“For what this time?”
“For getting us out of there.”
“Notice how I’m not saying ‘I told you so’?”
She scowled. “You’re lucky I’m not chewing you out. You threw me to the wolves, you know.”
“Hell, yes.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Sorry,” he said, sounding anything but. “I guess I just assumed you could think on your feet.”
At that, she just glared.
“Right,” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re a thief, not a con artist. Got it.”
She opened her mouth to retort, then thought better of it, focusing instead on her fingernails. Not surprisingly, she was unable to find a nail with anything left to nibble. She shoved her hands in her pockets.
When the car arrived, she wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved. It was your basic So Cal transportation, a Jeep Grand Cherokee. A fabulous vehicle—certainly out of her league—but considering who his grandmother was, Mel had been expecting something more ostentatious. A Ferrari, perhaps. Or a bright-red HumVee.
“The limo’s in the shop,” he said.
Her cheeks warmed, and she kept quiet, the fact that he once again had read her so well more than a little disconcerting.
She climbed in, buckled up and didn’t say another word as he maneuvered the broad curves of the Pacific Coast Highway. Once or twice she sneaked a glance in his direction and decided that her first impression didn’t do him justice. Kyle Radley was more than just gorgeous. He was like ambrosia for the eyes. Absolutely perfect to look at, and, she had to admit, the man was perfectly nice as well. That, of course, scored him major bonus points. Especially since she knew damn well that if he really wanted to get rid of her he could.
She’d said she was sticking to him like glue, but it was one o’clock in the morning, the highway was deserted, and he had a good seventy pounds on her. If he pulled over and dumped her at the side of the road, there was no way she’d win that battle.
The thought gave her pause and she sneaked another sideways glance. As far as she could tell, he wasn’t about to toss her overboard.
Good. She told herself she was simply interested in seeing that the necklace made it back to its rightful owner. She feared, however, that she was telling herself lies.
They turned off the highway and headed into a small neighborhood just behind BJ’s Pizza in Laguna Beach. A couple more turns and he pulled in front of a charming bungalow with a perfectly manicured front lawn. About a million times smaller than Emily’s place. But what it lacked in size, it made up for in warmth.
“Home sweet home,” he said.
“I love it.” She meant it, and when she stepped inside, she loved it even more. The house was bigger than it looked, and seemed to go on forever. The floors were hardwood, the walls sparkling white. The effect would have been austere were it not for the warm furnishings and paintings. Overall, the place was homey. Mel liked it immediately.
“Come on,” he said, and she followed him toward the kitchen. “You hungry?”
She realized then that she was. “Starved.”
He gestured toward the table. “Take a load off.” Then he opened the refrigerator, made a disgusted noise, and popped his head back out. “So, uh, how do you feel about cereal?”
She fought a smile. “Has the milk expired?”
“Three days to go. We’re safe. I’ve got Cap’n Crunch, Cheerios, or All Bran.”
“Any one of those is great.”
“Good.” He sounded relieved. He plunked the three boxes onto the table, then got them bowls, spoons and the milk. She poured herself a bowl of Cap’n Crunch and dug in.
“Considering how much I just slaved to feed you, don’t you think you owe me the rest of the story?”
“No.”
“If there’s someone out there stealing from my grandmother, I think I have a right to know.”
He probably had a point, and she took another bite of cereal while she considered what to do. Then she told him the story. Or, at least, she told him the highlights. Frankly, her honesty surprised her. But why not tell him? He already knew the basics, and it wasn’t as if there was anything between them. Even if they were to have a wild, torrid affair, it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. He already knew too much.
“So, your grandfather stole the necklace from Emily and gave it to you?”
She shrugged. “Retirement fund.” She made a face. “He’s supposed to be retired, too. I can’t believe he pulled a stunt like this just for me.”
He took her hand then, his eyes warm. “Are you that hard up for cash?”
She concentrated on the tabletop, ignoring the way he was drawing lazy circles on her palm. Heat formed under his touch, and she fought the urge to rip her hand away, both terrified and fascinated by the reaction he caused in her body.
“Grace?”
Mel stared at her palm. Her toes were tingling. His touch had sent a ribbon of heat through her body that literally warmed her to her toes. She was in such big trouble.
She tugged her hand free. “I’m doing fine.” She blurted out the statement. “I just need to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.”
“That’s a hard one,” he said.
She looked up, found him smiling at her, and smiled back. “Yeah,” she said, picking up her spoon and attacking her cereal. “It is. I’m working on it. So far, all I know for certain is that I’ve retired from a life of crime. So the job has to be legit.”
His mouth curved into a smile. “Probably a good primary criterion.”
“In my family it’s not one of those things you can take for granted.”
He laughed, and she felt a little stab of pride.
“Yeah. I could see that,” he said.
She aimed a smile at him and they sat in comfortable silence. After a while, he got up and put his bowl in the dishwasher. “Listen,” he said, “we should probably get some sleep. Frances is usually up and ready for guests by about ten. You can have my bedroom. I’ll take the couch.”
She felt more disappointed than she cared to admit that he wasn’t even going to try something. She was being foolish and she knew it, but, dammit, she was attracted to this man. And she knew he was attracted to her, too. And she really hated that he, apparently, had willpower. Because it was the middle of the night and she was tired, giddy and completely turned on. If she weren’t so afraid of making a complete fool out of herself, she’d be making a pass at him right now.
Then again, maybe all of that was for the best. This was a one-night stint, and she really didn’t need to wake up in the morning under a pile of morning-after regrets.
“I’m not going to kick you out of your bed,” she finally said. “I’ll stay on the couch. Besides, I really don’t plan on sleeping. I’ll just sit there and read.”
“Afraid I’ll skip out while you’re snoring?”
“I don’t snore,” she said, once again irritated that he’d read her mind. “But otherwise, yeah. Exactly.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. I’m going to sleep, so I’ll take the bed. And you should sleep, too.” He held up two fingers. “I promise I won’t leave without you.”
She wanted to trust him, really she did. But old habits and ingrained self-preservation instincts simply wouldn’t let her. So instead of sleeping, she sat on the couch, flipping through magazines and trying to concentrate on the articles and not on the fantasies of Kyle Radley that filtered through her head.
* * *
KYLE WOKE
UP ALONE and immediately wondered why he’d been so stupid as to go to bed that way. He’d spent the night lost in an erotic dream involving Grace’s trim thighs and soft breasts, and he was absolutely certain that, had he simply made one move in her direction, he could have had the real thing instead of a dream.
No. That would have been a very bad idea. He’d called upon his willpower last night, and it had come through for him. He wasn’t about to start second-guessing his instincts now. The woman might turn him on completely, but he knew trouble when he saw it. Any woman was trouble. A woman he’d caught breaking into Emily’s bedroom was big-time trouble.
He’d keep his pants zipped and his head on straight and everything would be just fine.
The clock next to his bed flashed 6:10, and he groaned, his head pounding as he sat up in bed. He’d only been asleep for four hours, but he knew he was up for the duration. Trying for quiet, he headed into the kitchen to start some coffee.
As soon as the machine began brewing, he filled two mugs and headed into the living room. She’d said she was going to stay awake, and in that case, she was going to need coffee even worse than he did.
When he reached the couch, though, he couldn’t help but smile. She was curled up on the sofa, half-buried under a maroon afghan he’d picked up in Tijuana one summer, hugging a throw pillow to her chest.
She looked completely at peace and absolutely beautiful, and he had to stifle the urge not to reach out and touch her, just to see if she was real.
He knew Frances wouldn’t be up yet, so he might as well let her sleep. Quietly he made his way back to the kitchen, then got his briefcase off the small pine table he kept near the back door. He slid the file folders onto the kitchen table, and sat down to review the files and crunch the numbers.
He started with the balance sheets and immediately wished he hadn’t. The business was okay for now, but unless they got some new clients soon, the company’s meager profit would disappear. A typical scenario for a start-up business, he knew, but in this case, there were more than just market factors at work. As soon as Driskell ran off his mouth about the break-in, Kyle was screwed.
Driskell was being reasonable so far, yes, but who knew how long that would last?
He finished off his coffee, the caffeine already working its magic. He stood and grabbed a third cup, and on the way back, he fished yesterday’s mail out of the side pocket of his briefcase.
A familiar logo caught his eye, and he plucked that envelope out of the pile. Modern Fidelity Life and Casualty. Driskell’s insurance carrier. Shit.
Kyle had no idea why simply holding the envelope brought such a sense of dread, but it did. He ripped the thing open and extracted the letter, his fingers clenching tighter and tighter as he read.
Bastards. Those sleazy insurance bastards were trying to nail his company with Driskell’s loss.
According to the letter, written by some smarmy company type with esquire after his name, Modern Fidelity was going to file a lawsuit seeking indemnification from Integrated, Kyle’s company, on August 12. His eyes automatically drifted to the calendar. That gave him eight lousy days to figure out some way to save his company. Because once the lawsuit was filed, there was no turning back. The press would grab the story and Integrated and Kyle and his partner, Brent, would all be labeled incompetent.
The whole situation was a nightmare, and he balled the letter and tossed it across the room, then sat and stared at it until the businessman in him forced him to go recover it so he’d have it for the file.
He shoved it back into his briefcase and then headed into the living room. He just wanted to see her. Just one glance to erase the bad taste of insurance and liability.
She was still sleeping, though she’d shifted a little, and now the pillow was on the floor. He watched her, then realized he was smiling. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman in his house. And this woman both enticed and intrigued him.
If he was a smart man, he probably would go on to Frances’s house alone. Hell, if he left now, he could probably be back before Grace woke up. But he couldn’t make a move in that direction. Like it or not, he’d gotten mixed up with this girl. She’d said she was his partner, and he had to admit he liked the sound of that. Not that he intended to admit it to her, of course.
She stirred, then peeled one eye open. After a few seconds the other eye followed, then her brow furrowed as she took in her surroundings. He could practically see her thoughts as reality returned and she remembered why she was there.
Slowly she sat up, the afghan tucked around her, even though she was fully dressed beneath it. “How long have you been up?”
“About an hour,” he said.
“I fell asleep.”
“I noticed.”
“And you’re still here. You didn’t leave me.”
He shrugged, kept his voice gruff. “Yeah, well, I said I wouldn’t. So come on, already. Let’s get this over with.”
But that’s when she smiled. And damned if his heart didn’t melt just a little bit more.
CHAPTER 4
“MORE ORANGE JUICE, GRACE?” Frances refilled her guest’s glass even before the poor girl could answer the question, then went ahead and spooned out an additional serving of eggs. Apparently just in case Grace forgot that she was starving.
Kyle worked to hide his smile. From the moment he and Grace had walked through the door, Frances had assumed they were an item. He hadn’t bothered to disabuse her of the notion, and so his aunt was going all out to make sure that Grace was welcomed into the family.
Any other woman might sink under the table and pray for sweet oblivion. Not Grace. She was holding her own with Frances, and Kyle wondered again if she was as much of a con artist as she was a thief.
The thought reminded him of why they were there, and he finished the last of his own juice—Frances hadn’t bothered to refill his glass—and then put his napkin next to his plate.
Frances noticed the gesture. “Finished?” Her expression turned concerned. “You two aren’t leaving already, are you? You just got here.”
“Of course not,” Kyle said. “We came to chat. After Grace met Emily last night she realized that meant that my aunt was the Frances Dormand, and she was dying to meet you.”
“He’d originally told me your name was Frances McIntyre,” Grace said. “It wasn’t until I met Emily that I made the connection. You’re one of my favorite character actresses, and, well, I begged Kyle to introduce me.”
They’d come up with the story during the drive to the house. They didn’t really need an excuse, of course, but considering that he was only supposed to be helping Grace to change a flat tire, they’d decided that it made the most sense to have some sort of story in place.
He could tell from Frances’s expression that the plan was a good one. In a world where Emily tended to get all the attention, a little bit of fawning in Frances’s direction went a long way.
“McIntyre’s my married name,” Frances said. “God rest his soul, Daniel was an old-fashioned man, and he wanted me to take his name and retire after we married. He was the chairman of a huge conglomerate, and appearances were important to him. I did, of course.” She patted Grace’s hand. “Those were different days back then.”
Grace smiled. “I don’t see anything wrong with that. Not if you made the choice out of love.”
Once again, Frances beamed, and Kyle felt an absurd sense of pride. Ridiculous, since he wasn’t really there to show Grace off to his aunt.
Deliberately, he pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. “I promised Grace I’d show her the upstairs den. And then maybe take her on a tour of the house. Is that okay?”
“Of course. Of course.” Frances waved an arm in the general direction of the upstairs den. “All my old movie stills are hanging in that room.”
“I can’t wait to see them,” Grace said. The plan was to get Frances in that room and then while she regaled Grace with stories of the past, Kyle wo
uld slip out and put the necklace back into the safe in her bedroom.
“You two go on ahead,” Frances said. “My arthritis is acting up. I’ll just stay down here and have coffee.”
Kyle frowned. Frances hadn’t complained about her knee in years. “Are you okay?”
“Of course, of course. Just wear and tear.”
He wasn’t entirely convinced, but he couldn’t argue with good fortune. If Frances stayed downstairs, he and Grace wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking away to replace the necklace. All in all, the situation couldn’t have been better even if he’d planned it.
Grace caught his eye, and he half shrugged, then held out his hand to her. “Come on. I’ll give you the nickel tour.”
“I really would like to see the den,” Grace said, as soon as they were out of earshot of Frances. “Frances wasn’t ever as big as Emily, but she really is one of my favorites.”
“I’m sure she’d appreciate knowing that,” Kyle said. Frances’s second-tier status had been at the heart of a long-standing family feud. Even her superior financial position after she’d married Daniel McIntyre hadn’t mended the fences. Frances’s biggest dream had been to win an Oscar, and Emily had never let her sister forget that she’d been the one to take them home. It was petty and stupid and, at this point, Kyle was pretty certain the feud was fueled more by habit than by any true ill will.
“Let’s offload the necklace first,” he said. “We can look at the den on our way back down.”
As they headed for Frances’s bedroom, he kept listening for footsteps, sure she’d change her mind and follow. But he heard nothing, and they ended up in her overly floral room all alone.
He shut the door behind him. “The safe’s behind the Monet.”
Grace squinted at the painting. “Is that real?”
“Far as I know.”
“Wow.”
He waited. She did nothing. “Grace. The painting.”
“What?”
“The safe. Aren’t you going to open it?”
She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”