Simon Says...

by Donna Kauffman

  Quite likely, as soon as Marcelina told someone the emeralds were missing, the building would be put on lockdown, and each of the guests, as well as the premises, would be thoroughly searched. He couldn’t let that happen while he was still in it. Not only would it forever keep the Shay from Guinn’s hands, but it would put his freedom in jeopardy, and, most importantly, Sophie’s, as her connection to him would surely come out. Probably by her own volition.

  She was determined and strong, but too softhearted for this kind of thing. He should have known better, should have known— “Ooph.”

  He’d rounded a corner…and run directly into Sophie’s arms. “No,” he said, sounding as frantic as he felt. “No, no, no. You can’t be here. Not now.”

  “Simon,” she said, trying to regroup from their collision. “What—where did Adam and—”

  “Behind me.”

  She glanced down at where his hand was over his heart, holding his jacket tight to his body. “You did it!”

  “I have to get out of here.”

  “Oh, right! Okay! What can I do?”

  “Not be seen with me. By anyone. Sophie, I should have never—”

  “Shh,” she said. “I love you, Simon. What can I do to buy you more time?”

  He lifted his head. “What did you just say?”

  “Go!” she said, shoving at him. “I’ll buy you more time.”

  “Sophie, no—don’t go back—”

  But she’d already headed back into the exhibits, and it was too late to go after her. All he could do was exactly what she’d told him to do.

  Run.

  And pray like hell she knew what she was doing.

  “I love you, too, Sophie Maplethorpe,” he said under his breath as he made his way closer to the crowds, trying like hell to calm himself down and look like he hadn’t just stolen a priceless gemstone. “And, as God is my witness, if we get through this without doing hard labor for twenty-to-life, I’m going to marry you and never let either one of us break the law, ever again.”

  He took a deep breath as he entered the main area, forced himself to slow down, then lifted a glass of champagne from a passing tray, downing the entire contents in one gulp. He put the glass down on another passing tray, then straightened his shoulders and did his best impression of a man casually enjoying the evening’s festivities, smiling and nodding as he passed this group or that, but winding his way toward the exit with purpose. He could feel the clock ticking down like a giant bomb about to go off.

  He had the exit door in sight when he heard a woman’s voice raise quite distinctly above the murmur of conversation and shout, “Adam! How could you! And with Marcelina?”

  He smiled and ducked his head as conversations fell silent and folks started to shift toward the back of the exhibit hall, where it appeared some kind of drama was unfolding. All he heard as he moved quickly in the other direction was people murmuring things like, “Do you think it’s Adam Wingate?” and, “I saw him with Marcelina earlier.” “Men, all of them, cheating bastards,” muttered another aging socialite. “Don’t I know it,” said another. “And his fiancée, she seemed so sweet. Beautiful girl.”

  Simon had no idea how long he had before the part about the emeralds going missing was added to the evening’s entertainment, but he planned to be long gone by then. As he came close to the entrance, and the guard planted there, the mayhem behind him was rolling into a full-scale “incident.” The guard was on his radio, trying to get a report.

  Simon caught his eye and, despite feeling like he was going to have a heart attack, he grinned. “Can you believe it? Bloke is rich as Croesus and engaged to the most gorgeous blonde you’ve ever seen. Caught with his pants down behind some display in the back. I hear it was with one of your supermodels. Some guys get all the luck, ay, mate?”

  The guard smiled and chuckled. “Hey, you take what you can get, when you can get it, you know?”

  “Yes,” Simon said, nodding as the guard held the door open for him, his attention once more diverted as someone squawked to him on his radio. “I do, indeed.”

  17

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU QUIT?”

  “Well, it was really a preemptive move, since I’m pretty sure when it gets out that I’ve spoken up on Delia’s behalf to any press who will listen to me, I was going to be canned anyway.”

  “Sophie—”

  “Simon. Where are you? Should we be talking? Is it safe? I’ve been worried sick, waiting to hear from you.”

  There was silence, during which Sophie grew more nervous. “Wait, this isn’t your ‘one phone call’ is it? Where are you, how much is bail? Oh God, is there bail?”

  “I’m a free man, no worries.”

  She collapsed back on her bed, where she’d been holed up pretty much exclusively for the past forty-eight hours. “Thank God. Was Guinn shocked? Did—”

  “Sophie, we can talk about all that later. Where are you?”

  “In my apartment, why?”

  “Then why haven’t you opened your door?”

  “What?” She shot up on the bed. “I’ve been hounded by the press and every tabloid on the planet, maybe some from off planet, given the types of scum that have been trolling my apartment door. Why?” She was already scrambling off the bed and racing to her front door, heedless of the fact that she looked like hell and her apartment looked even worse. She and Delia had spent twenty-four of those last forty-eight hours hiding from the world and re-cementing the bonds of their sisterhood. It had entailed a great deal of sugar and not a small amount of alcohol.

  There was a small tap on the door just as she skidded to a halt in front of it. “Who’s there?” she asked, her heart in her throat.

  “Housekeeping.”

  “Don’t tease me, you haven’t seen this place.”

  “I’m pretty handy with a mop. I don’t cook half badly either.”

  “You’re hired.” She hurried through five different locks, then flung the door open and flung herself into Simon’s waiting arms.

  He spun her through the door and kicked it shut, his mouth already on hers. “Bed?” he murmured against her lips.

  “That way,” she managed, flinging one arm in the general direction. “Careful, it’s a bit messy.”

  “All I see is you.”

  He tripped, stumbled and banged them both into the doorframe before managing to get them to her bed. “My God, was there a raid on your place?”

  “I thought all you saw was me,” she teased, thinking she’d never seen anything better in her whole life.

  “I am looking at you.”

  She swatted him. “Very funny. Thank God you know I clean up well, right?”

  “True.”

  She pulled him down and held on for dear life. “I was so afraid,” she said, her voice shaking now, which made no sense since he was finally here, safe in her arms. “Of?”

  “That I’d never see you again. I’ve been holed up here with Delia, dealing with the press, the Wingates, everything, and there hasn’t been even a whisper about the emerald going missing, and it’s— I wasn’t sure if maybe I just hallucinated you.”

  He lifted his head. “Did you tell Delia? About us?”

  She nodded. “I had to, Simon. I was going crazy.”

  “What did she say?”

  Sophie smiled. “That I’m crazy. She’s one to talk, right? But it helped. It helped us both get through.”

  “Crazy in love?” he asked, and surprised her with the vulnerability she spied in his eyes.

  “That crazy,” she said, so happy she could finally say it again, tell him, show him. Her heart felt like it was going to burst now that he was here. Then it was her turn to be a bit shy. “You?”

  “Completely. Head over heels. Gone. Besotted. Out of my head. Yours.”

  Her smile spread. “Keep going. I’m liking this.”

  He framed her face, and his expression grew more serious. “I’m sorry,” he said. “About…everything. I’ve been wor
ried sick about you, too, but I had to make sure, for both of us, that things were taken care of before I contacted you.”

  She nodded, but her eyes were glassy now. “I know. I mean, I was hoping, anyway. I— It’s all been so insane, Simon. I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too. I wanted you with me. Crazy indeed, for a bloke who has been on his own as long as I have, but it didn’t seem right, you not being there. But I’ve been following everything. You didn’t have to quit, you know. They had no grounds.”

  “I couldn’t work for them anymore, anyway. I loved the hotel itself, and the staff, but Delia was right. If I couldn’t back the family themselves, then how could I justify working for them? And working in such a big operation really isn’t what I want to do. It was just the only way I could see to make the money I needed, as quickly as possible.”

  “Then I think you did the right thing. Leaving, I mean.”

  She smiled, even as she sniffed and he wiped the corners of her eyes with his thumbs. “So, the good news is, I don’t have to stay in Chicago. In fact, Delia and I were discussing relocating. As far away from here as possible.”

  “Have you now?” he asked, a spark of consideration dawning in his eyes.

  “When the news hit and the wedding was called off, even though Delia came through it all as the wronged heroine of the tale, it’s still been incredibly hard on her.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “She’s been holed up in her place when she hasn’t been holed up here with me. We’re both not sure what to do next, but we really don’t want to do it here. And I know you said you’d be willing to move here, and it’s central and all, but I really think we want something smaller, more rural, I think.”

  “I’ve an idea about that,” Simon said.

  “Do you?” She sighed in relief. “I thought you’d be upset.”

  “Why in the world would I be upset? I don’t want you to be anywhere you don’t want to be. And that includes being with me.”

  She held him tightly. “This is the one place I know I want to be. I know it sounds crazy to say this, given all that has happened since I met you, but you’re the one thing that’s keeping me grounded and sane through all this. Knowing you’re there for me. That you believe in me. How nuts is that?”

  “As nutty as I am, apparently,” he said, and kissed her. The kiss didn’t stop this time, and grew until he rolled her over to her back and covered her body with his. “I miss you, Sophie.”

  “What happened?” she asked him. “There was never a single word in the news about it being taken. I couldn’t believe it. Not a single word from Tolliver, either, other than the announcement that by mutual consent, his donated collection would be removed from the Institute. Everyone assumed it had to do with his distaste and perhaps embarrassment over what happened during the gala. I didn’t know what to think.”

  “Tolliver is a very private man, who only likes to make grand, public gestures when it suits him best. When Marcelina mentioned that it was someone named Guinn who took the emerald—I just told her that Guinn sent his regards and she misunderstood, but it served the purpose—Tolliver was on the next flight back to London.”

  “But—where were you?”

  “I’ve never left Chicago.”

  “What?” She pushed him off her and sat up. “And you didn’t tell me? Where is the emerald? Oh my God, don’t tell me you didn’t—”

  “Wait, wait just a minute before you go running off. Though, might I say, you’re quite adorable when you do.”

  She smacked away his hand, but was already smiling and chuckling when he pulled her back beneath him and trapped her there with the weight of his leg over hers as he shifted to his side. “Tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out.”

  “Without knowing exactly what was happening at the gala, I couldn’t risk trying to get it out of the country. I thought about Canada, but instead I simply contacted Guinn and told him I had it.”

  “He’s elderly, you said. And infirm, right? So, how—”

  “He sent someone to retrieve it for him. And he was very, very grateful.”

  “So…he has it. It’s safe.”

  Simon nodded.

  “And you made peace. With him. And yourself.”

  He nodded again, and smiled. “And Tolliver?”

  “Will have to duke it out with Guinn if he wants to continue the battle for ownership. He didn’t come forward in the press with any of it, which only confirms my suspicions that his so-called proof would prove to be false if more closely and expertly examined. Fortunately, if you could call it that, Marcelina’s indiscretion gave him the cover he needed to withdraw quietly from the scene and from the public. And being a continent away certainly isn’t hurting, either, as the press will die down without him around to fuel it.”

  “So…it’s over?”

  “For now. But if and when Tolliver decides to go after Guinn or the necklace again—and I believe he will at some point, he doesn’t give up so easily—I won’t be involved. The Shay is with the man who should have it, and that’s where it ends with me.”

  “So, that’s it, then. You’re truly out of it?”

  “Job done. And done well, I might add. Brilliant diversion, by the way.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. Just please tell me that your job doesn’t usually include this sort of retrieving. Because you know how I am, I’m going to want to help, but I really don’t think there is a great advantage in having me be involved in any way on cases like this in the future.”

  “Agreed.”

  She sighed in relief. “Good.”

  “On all of it. I find myself curiously disinclined to take on another case at the moment, either.”

  “Why? Because you’d have to go back to London? Because that was part of what I was thinking about—”

  “No, because it would take me away from you.”

  “I could go with you,” she said hopefully. “Do you need an assistant? Not on the cases, exactly, but helping you research them, maybe?”

  “You don’t want to be doing that. It’s not your passion.”

  She stroked his cheek. “But it is yours, Simon.”

  “Which is why I’ve been thinking.”

  “Have you now?” She smiled and her heart started to pick up pace again. “About?”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been home. And while you are right, I do have a passion for helping folks, for unearthing things, I’ve been thinking maybe it’s time to scale back a little, be a bit more local in my focus.”

  “Local to…?”

  “Do you have a passport?”

  She nodded.

  “Would you like to come home with me, Sophie? See my father’s place, see Hawke’s Bay? I’ve been thinking, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad place for a small inn. And I could open up an office, perhaps oversee a bit more closely the workings of the vineyard.”

  “But you don’t want—”

  “No, I don’t want to run the winery. But it’s not a bad way to make contacts for the job I do love. I could also look into helping at the university. Maybe get back to my real love.”

  “Wouldn’t that mean traveling again?”

  “I was thinking as a teacher this time.”

  She smiled, trembling now, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Could it be so simple as all that?”

  He laughed. “I don’t think there is a single thing simple about any part of our relationship so far. Except falling in love with you. That was remarkably easy.” He rolled on top of her, framed her face with his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “I do love you, Sophie Maplethorpe. Will you come home with me? And, if you want, after seeing it, make a home with me there? If it’s not to your liking, we can hunt the world over until we find the right place. I’m good at finding things, you know.”

  “And thank God for it. Because you found me.” She kissed him. “Take me home, Simon. It’s been a grand adventure since I met you. And I can’t wait t
o find out what happens next.”

  Epilogue

  Two years later

  “WE’VE BOOKED THE TWO SUITES and the small loft space through the summer. But there is a small problem.”

  Sophie looked up from the books she’d been poring over, trying to decide if it was too soon to think about the upgrades she wanted to make to the front parlor and library. The Lassiter Inn had only just celebrated its second anniversary, but business had never been better.

  “Well, that’s why I hired you. To solve problems.” She smiled at Mick. “What is it this time? Sheep got loose again and into the orchard? Guests are asking again about stomping their own wine? Because this is New Zealand, not Italy, and our grapes—”

  “No, that’s not it. It’s just, I have this gentleman at the front desk and he’s demanding to see the proprietress of the inn. I believe those were his exact words. He’s not settling for me, and Dee has her hands full in the kitchen, getting dinner ready for our guests. Roast duck tonight.” He sighed in deep appreciation. Not unusual for any of Delia’s fare.

  Sophie closed the book on the pile of receipts she’d been tallying. “Whatever could this man want that you can’t provide him help with?”

  Mick disappeared from view and Simon’s head full of tousled dark hair filled her view instead. “He’s an amazing majordomo and Brian would hire him away to run the winery single-handedly if he weren’t afraid of you, so far be it from me to diminish Mick’s skills in any way.”

  “However, here you are, going over his head to the boss and interrupting her very busy day.”

  He stepped into the room, and she spied the picnic basket in his hands. “I was thinking perhaps I could interrupt it on a somewhat more involved scale?”