“Yes.” Lydia hadn’t seen Gabriel since he was a teenager, and she gasped at the amazing resemblance between her cousin Gabe and her brother Oliver, except that Gabe had blue eyes while Oliver had brown. Their similar features might have been due to the fact that they had twin sisters for mothers. But the two men might have been twins themselves, they looked so much alike. Which suggested they might have more than a mother in common. Lydia felt dizzy at the unwilling conclusion her mind had drawn: Oliver and Gabe had the same father.
Lydia shivered. Oliver and Gabe were the same age, and it was horrible to think that the same scoundrel—he hadn’t married either twin—might have impregnated both her mother and her aunt within the period of a year. Now that was a mystery it would be interesting to solve. Except that Oliver, who was an amazing investigator, seemed never to have investigated his own birth. Better not to stick her nose into his business.
“Take a look around,” Joe said as he settled in at Gabe’s computer.
“What is it I’m supposed to find?” she asked as she rose and began rummaging through drawers.
“Anything that tells us where Gabe might be keeping the Ghost or information about anyone he might have communicated with in order to sell it on the black market.”
Lydia took inventory of where things were when she opened a drawer to be sure she could put items back the same way after she’d gone through them. “I thought you said the thief asked Daddy for a ransom.”
“He may very well intend to collect from your father as well as a buyer who wants the necklace.”
Lydia hissed in a breath. It was bad enough that her father might have to pay to get the Ghost back. But it was only money, and Bull Benedict had plenty of it. The thought that the Ghost might never be recovered made her blood run cold. “I can’t believe my own cousin would have drugged me and stolen the Ghost.”
“Did you see him at the charity ball? Did you speak to him?”
“Everyone was wearing masks.”
“You didn’t recognize his voice?”
Lydia paused to think. She tried to remember if anyone she’d met that evening—especially anyone who’d offered her a drink—reminded her of her cousin but came up blank. “I had no inkling he was there. But I haven’t seen him since we were kids. He went to private school—that’s what we call a public school in England—and I went to a boarding school in Switzerland.”
“Of course you did.”
Lydia ignored the sarcasm in Joe’s voice and continued, “As far as I know, neither Gabe nor his mother has been in touch with my family for years. I mean, how could he know I’d be wearing the Ghost? I wasn’t even sure I could get it from the vault in England.”
“Sounds like a crime of opportunity,” Joe mused.
“What do you mean?”
“He saw the necklace and acted on the spur of the moment.”
“Are you suggesting he was carrying rohypnol, or something like it, around with him?”
Joe nodded. “He was probably planning to rob—or rape—someone. He just happened to choose you. Would he have recognized the necklace?”
Lydia made a face. “Probably. Maybe. My mother’s worn it to several high-profile events.”
Lydia was having trouble imagining her cousin being the kind of person who would drug a woman to steal from her—or worse. She couldn’t believe he would purposely drug his own cousin to steal a priceless piece of jewelry. But the fact that she’d gotten back to her hotel safely and hadn’t been ravished suggested a thief with some consideration for her. Which made her wonder if her cousin might be the culprit.
She frowned at an expensive printed invitation she found in the drawer of the bedside table. She had an invitation to the same charity event.
At that moment, the phone rang. Lydia turned to stare at it, then turned to Joe. “Should we answer that? Is it some kind of signal from the concierge that Gabe is back?”
Joe swore under his breath as he shut down Gabe’s computer and rose. “I didn’t make any arrangements with the concierge, but I don’t think we should take any chances. Let’s go.”
Before either of them could move, Lydia heard the key card being inserted in the lock.
Chapter Twelve
Joe turned off the computer and jumped up in the same instant. He grabbed Lydia by the hand as she slammed a drawer closed and hauled her toward the French doors that led to the balcony. He opened the unlocked door and shoved her out ahead of him, then eased the door closed and hustled her toward one of the tall, potted cyprus bushes that flanked the French doors.
His damned leg gave out, and he ended up body-to-body with her against the stone wall. He pressed himself closer to be sure they were hidden behind the narrow bush, ignoring her indignant look. When she opened her mouth in what he suspected was a protest, he shut her up by kissing her.
He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and she tasted as sweet as he’d imagined. He felt the softness of her breasts crushed against his chest and fit his hard body into the cradle of her thighs. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from reaching out to touch her all day, and he smiled inwardly as he remembered how she’d called him on it. One moment she was kissing him back, and in the next, Joe felt as though he were tangling with a wildcat.
Lydia bit his lip, and he tasted blood. One of her hands grasped his hair while the nails of the other dug deep into his shoulder. She bucked against him, and Joe felt his body throb. His hand closed over her breast, and his thumb brushed a nipple that budded responsively beneath his touch.
He froze when he heard the French doors click open and struggled to control his breathing. He broke the kiss and laid a fingertip against Lydia’s lips to caution her to silence. Her eyes went wide as she turned her head toward the door. Joe held his breath waiting to see whether they would be discovered. To his relief, Gabriel Wharton never came into view. Apparently he’d headed toward the other side of the balcony.
“I’ve had a few bites from potential buyers,” he heard Gabe say, “but I think Bull is going to provide the real payoff.”
Lydia whimpered, and he put a hand over her mouth to silence her. She tried to yank his hand away, but when he shook his head, she stilled.
“No, Mother, I don’t think it would be better to sell the Ghost to someone else,” Gabe said. “Bull owes me and you both after what he did to you.” He made an angry sound in his throat. “The man is my father, too! I should get some of what he’s given to his other children.”
Joe felt Lydia stiffen at this announcement. She struggled briefly before he used the weight of his body to press her more tightly against the wall. He narrowed his eyes in warning, and she froze, but her eyes spoke livid volumes. Clearly, she hadn’t been aware that her father had sired a bastard son with her mother’s twin. And she wasn’t happy about it.
“I promise you the Ghost is safely hidden.” Gabe made an exasperated sound, then added, “I’m not a complete idiot, Mother. Can’t you just, for once in your life, trust me?” He hesitated, apparently listening, then replied, “It’s better if you don’t know. Stop worrying. Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’ll see you tonight at the gala.”
Joe heard footsteps on the flagstone before Gabe reentered his room and closed the balcony door behind him. Joe waited to see whether he would lock the door, but it remained unsecured, as it had been when they’d left the room. Joe couldn’t imagine anyone leaving the balcony doors unlocked if a necklace worth a fortune was secreted in the room. Ergo, the Ghost was hidden somewhere else.
When he focused his gaze back on Lydia, Joe realized that whatever magic had caused her to respond to his kiss had passed. Her body was rigid, and her palms were pressed flat against his chest. His lips curved cynically. She was as cold now as she’d been hot before. He supposed she’d realized just who she’d been kissing. Not some lord, but a lowly Delta sergeant.
“How long am I going to be stuck here with you?” she hissed when he took his hand from her mouth.
“Not
a second longer than necessary,” he shot back.
Joe kept their bodies close as he pulled out his cell phone and called his sister. “I need you to have the front desk call Gabe Wharton and get him out of his room.”
“I warned you to be quick,” Sam replied.
“Look, I’m trapped on the balcony with Lydia. Can you help me, or not?”
Joe stared at Lydia, who glared back at him. Her arms remained wedged between them while they waited for the phone to ring in Gabriel’s room.
Lydia had managed to separate their upper bodies, but his hips remained tight against hers. She’d wriggled once but gasped and stopped moving when she realized his body was still hard as a rock. She never lowered her gaze, just kept her amazing violet eyes trained on his, daring him to do his worst.
Joe admired her gumption, but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of telling her so.
“My father never had relations with my aunt,” Lydia said quietly but emphatically. “He loves my mother too much to ever do that to her.”
“Whatever you say,” Joe replied in an equally soft voice. “But your cousin seemed pretty sure of himself.”
“Gabe looks exactly like my eldest brother,” she said. “And Oliver isn’t my father’s son.”
Joe lifted a brow at that interesting tidbit of information. He wished his sister were here instead of him. Sam knew all the ins and outs of this family. He was pretty much constantly out on a limb. He didn’t want to step amiss, so he said, “You’re sure about that?”
“Oliver’s eyes are dark brown,” she said. When he just stared at her she added, “Both of my parents have blue eyes.”
Joe nodded as he did the genetic math. But he couldn’t resist pointing out, “Gabe has blue eyes.”
Lydia looked anxious as she said, “It can’t be true. I don’t believe it. My father was deeply in love with my mother when Oliver was born—and Gabe is the same age.”
“If you say so.”
She pressed her lips flat and stared at him through narrowed eyes without saying another word.
It wasn’t more than another minute before the phone trilled, but it seemed much longer, because he never stopped wanting to put himself inside her, never stopped wanting to see the ecstasy on her face when she climaxed.
He waited another minute, then checked to make sure Gabe was gone before he and Lydia entered, and then exited, the room. They took the stairs down so they wouldn’t run into her cousin on the elevator.
Before they entered the lobby, Joe checked to make sure Gabe wasn’t around, and they left and caught a cab out front, heading back to Lydia’s hotel.
“Did you get anything useful from Gabe’s computer?” Lydia asked.
It seemed she was going to avoid mentioning the whole kissing incident, which was fine with him. “I set it up so my sis—” Joe caught himself and finished, “So my assistant can remotely view his computer. If he sends or receives any correspondence regarding the sale of the Ghost, we’ll know about it. How about you? Did you find anything?”
“I found an invitation to a charity event being held tonight. It might be the gala where Gabe plans to meet his mother.”
“That sounds promising. Can we just show up? Or do we need an invitation to get in?”
“I’ve already got an invitation.”
“How fancy is this thing?”
Lydia shot him an amused look. “You’re going to have to wear a tux.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lydia claimed the bathroom first. She debated whether to lock the door, since Joe was dressing in her room as well, but in the end, decided against it. “He wouldn’t dare,” she muttered as she clipped her hair up off her neck. She stripped herself bare, then stepped into the steaming shower. A moment later she heard the bathroom door open and peeked around the shower curtain to find Joe standing at the sink wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips.
She angled the white cloth curtain to cover her naked body, stuck her head out, and stated the obvious. “I’m in here.”
“It’ll save time if I shave while you shower,” he said as he picked up the electric razor she’d provided, plugged it in, and turned it on.
Lydia stared in disbelief for a moment, then said, “I prefer to shower alone.”
“You are in the shower alone,” he pointed out. “I’m standing out here in front of the sink. But I’d be happy to join you.”
When Joe turned off the razor and took a step toward her, Lydia dropped the shower curtain back into place with a throaty grr-r-r of frustration. She grabbed a washcloth and the small, fragrant bar of soap and began viciously soaping the wet cloth. She thought she heard Joe chuckle before the annoying buzz of the electric razor began again.
Lydia realized she was going to have to wait for Joe to finish shaving and leave the bathroom before she could get out, so she took her time, soaping every inch of herself from top to bottom. She was still covered with suds when the buzz abruptly stopped.
“If you’re done, you can leave,” she called out to him.
A moment later, the shower curtain was shoved back and Joe—naked as a jaybird—joined her.
Lydia grabbed the curtain and covered herself, flustered and furious. “Get out! Go!”
“I’m already wet. Might as well get clean.”
She gaped at him, which was when she realized that, for the first time since she’d met him, she could see the contours of his face. He’d left only a day’s worth of stubble, just enough to shadow his jaw and make him look uncivilized. Dangerous. Like the rogue he was.
Her eyes slid down to his broad, muscular chest, which possessed a V of dark curls, and followed the trail of the jagged scar that ran at an angle from his collarbone, across a six-pack of abs, all the way to his navel. Lydia resisted the strong urge to touch.
Joe eased the washcloth from her hand, snatched the soap from the ceramic dish, sniffed it, scrunched up his nose at the smell, then began making a lather. “Faster if we do this together.”
Lydia recovered her senses and snarled, “I can’t believe you have the gall to—”
“By the way,” he said with a grin. “I can see your fanny. Very nice.”
Lydia yelped and grabbed more of the curtain in an attempt to conceal her backside. She heard Joe gasp and realized she’d inadvertently exposed a pink nipple.
Joe’s response was instantly—and impressively—visible.
Lydia felt a curl of desire begin in her womb as her body reacted viscerally to the sight of his arousal. Her heartbeat shot up as though she’d been running a mile, and she was having trouble catching her breath. When she was able to focus her gaze back on Joe’s face, she saw his eyes were heavy-lidded, his pupils huge black pools in a sea of blue as they drank in the sight of her.
Lydia let go of the curtain.
Joe reached for her without speaking.
She’d expected him to rush, but he took his time, drawing lazy circles around her slick breasts. His eyes followed the direction of his callused hand as his palm slid down the center of her taut body, creating responsive quivers, until he reached his destination.
Lydia moaned, and Joe captured the sound with his mouth, as he worked wonderful magic with his fingers.
Lydia was shocked at how wet she was and how quickly she climaxed. Joe made a satisfied sound in his throat as he released her. Lydia’s knees threatened to collapse, but strong arms rescued her. Joe drew her close, so she could feel the hot, hard length of him against her hip.
Lydia hands circled Joe’s neck, and she grasped the hair at his nape, which was both still dry and surprisingly soft. She held on tight as their tongues dueled. She gave as good as she got, fighting to stay in control, refusing to surrender, uncertain why it mattered but knowing she couldn’t give in.
Joe made a guttural sound as he tore his mouth from hers. His lazy-lidded gaze locked on her face as his nostrils flared for the scent of her. He suddenly picked her up, elbowed the lever off and the curtain
aside, then stepped out of the shower. She could feel the heat coming off of his body, feel the muscle and sinew in the arms that held her close. She’d forgotten completely about Joe’s injured leg until he swore under his breath and faltered halfway across the bedroom, almost dropping her.
She struggled to be set down, worried that he would fall. “I can walk.”
His grip tightened as he said, “I’ve got you.”
Luckily, they were only a few steps from the bed, and he settled onto the edge of it with her in his lap. She’d grasped him around the neck when he’d almost fallen, so she felt the terrible tension in his shoulders.
She put a hand to his cheek and forced him to look at her.
“It’s all right. So you have a bum leg. It’s no big deal.”
“Maybe not to you,” he shot back. “It’s altered my life so completely I don’t recognize myself anymore.”
He turned his face away, and she realized he hadn’t meant to reveal quite so much of the agony beneath the composed surface he presented to the world.
“A lot of guys have come home in a lot worse shape than I’m in,” he admitted in a low, harsh voice. “I guess I should be thankful I can walk at all.”
She hesitated, then said, “But you can’t help regretting what’s been lost.”
She heard him swallow hard and realized he was fighting to subdue his emotions. He glanced at her but said nothing, which revealed the depth of the struggle within him.
Lydia was moved by the fact that a man as physically strong as Joe had admitted to any sort of vulnerability. It made him more human, more sympathetic. It made her want to offer comfort. It made her want to share her own vulnerability.
But it felt too dangerous—she was far too frightened—to admit to her own foibles. She’d never let anyone, not her family, not her friends, and especially not any man she’d dated, see her insecurities. The men she’d allowed into her life had no inkling of the unloved and unlovable girl hiding behind a façade of extraordinary beauty and icy sophistication.
The moment when she might have shared her fears with Joe came and went. She yearned for the closeness she’d let slip away and settled for pressing a tender kiss on his throat beneath his ear. He stiffened for an instant, and she could tell he was debating whether to stop what he’d started in the shower. She could feel his erection throb beneath her thigh and pressed more soft kisses across his throat and chin and cheeks, until she finally reached his mouth.
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