But that was where the similarities ended.
Lex wouldn't know a Glock from a Beretta, or how to deactivate a bomb, and he'd never spent a year in Asia training in self-defense. He knew nothing about computer technology, global tracking devices, artificial intelligence or how to fly a plane. He wouldn't know what to do with a bonsai plant, he damn sure wasn't interested in being a vegetarian, and the chances of him sacrificing a nut to save his lover's gerbil were slim to none. Lex inwardly snorted. Save the world maybe, but not a rodent.
As Trudy had predicted, the mystery behind the missing nut was solved in book two. Boyle, that slimy bastard, had beaten Zoe's housekeeper and gardener within an inch of their lives, then he'd set a bomb to blow the whole place to smithereens. Nash and Zoe had arrived in time to save them, but not in time to deactivate the bomb. So the rescue was on. Zoe grabbed the housekeeper, Nash grabbed the gardener, and they had almost made it to safety when Zoe remembered the gerbil.
Knowing how much the little animal meant to his fair heroine, Nash had doubled back—putting himself and the gardener at considerable risk worthy of a proper hero—then grabbed the gerbil and shoved the frightened animal into his pocket.
Lex winced even now, felt his nuts shrivel and hide. The gerbil had thanked Nash for saving his worthless life by sinking his teeth into one of Nash's nuts.
Lex's own man berries had shriveled up with dread while he'd read that scene. He could see where a woman might find it romantic, but a man? Nah. Practically from infancy men learned to guard their jewels. And to lose one over a gerbil?
No way.
Lex heaved an internal sigh. If that's what it took to be a hero in Faith's eyes, he was doomed to fail.
"We should probably get inside," Faith muttered, reluctantly moving to her feet. He immediately missed her warmth, the soft womanly feel of her body next to his.
"Melanie will be up soon and we'll need to coordinate our strategy and go over our profiles. I spent a little time reading through mine last night. While I was waiting for you," she added pointedly, but without any real heat.
She put her hands at the small of her back and stretched, inadvertently pushing her unrestrained breasts against the slinky fabric of her robe. The sun had made it above the mountain, backlighting her until the shadow of her lush form was silhouetted behind the thin layer of satiny material. The rounded globes of her breasts, a waist he could easily span with his hands, the perfect swell of womanly hips, toned thighs and shapely legs… Utterly perfect.
Lex's mouth grew parched, then watered. The room behind his zipper lessened to the point just short of pain, and a curious buzzing noise had commenced in his head. Probably in warning, to let him know there wasn't any blood left there, Lex thought, swallowing thickly.
Fawn-colored curls framed her piquant face in a halo of bright gold, and the rosy flush of sleep still clung to her cheeks. She closed her eyes and a faint, satisfied smile curled her unbelievably carnal lips.
He was hit with the blinding, almost irrepressible urge to kiss her. To frame her face and lower his mouth to hers, then back her against the porch railing, spread her delectable thighs and bury himself to the hilt in her sweet warmth. Anticipation pumped through his veins in a rush that made his entire body vibrate with need. He wanted to taste those lips, to feed at her sweet, wicked mouth, to feel her pebbled nipple against his tongue, taste the rich womanly nectar he'd find hidden between her legs. A fierce heat swept him from head to toe, burning up anything remotely resembling common sense.
Lex slowly stood. Being sensible was overrated. He wanted to kiss her. To have her. Had to. Right now. He reached out…
…then froze as her gun slipped from the sash and clattered to the porch.
He blinked, stunned, as though he'd been hit with an electrical current, then a litany of anatomically impossible curses streamed through his brain.
"Oh, hell," Faith muttered as she nonchalantly bent and picked up the gun, checked to make sure it was okay. She shrugged, unconcerned. "Good thing the safety was on."
Good thing Nash hadn't lost another nut, Lex thought, as the horrifying possibilities of what could have happened occurred to him. Jesus, his nerves were shot. He took a deep breath and tried to force his heart rate into a regular rhythm. He didn't have to worry about the hard-on. It had wilted and headed for higher ground with the rest of him when the gun had dropped to the porch.
"Yeah, good thing," Lex responded shakily, the understatement of the year. He had to speak to Trudy about this. Under the circumstances, he really didn't think that Faith needed to be packing heat.
He pushed a trembling hand through his hair. Hell, she inspired enough of that already.
* * *
7
« ^ »
"These instructions have to be followed to the letter and anyone who violates these rules will be immediately terminated from play. Understood?"
Lex leaned against the fireplace and listened to Trudy explain to the lucky winners of Faith's To Catch a Thief weekend how the game would unfold. Players had descended on the lodge around three that afternoon and the excitement was virtually palpable.
It was imperative that no one mentioned Faith Bonner or any of the books—he'd already rounded up every copy the players had brought along to be signed, and hidden them in the kitchen pantry—but he still wondered how Trudy planned to keep the group from blowing the ruse.
"From this moment on, you are in character." She propped her fingers together beneath her chin and issued the order in a tone that commanded Obedience or Death. "You have never read a Faith Bonner book. You have never heard of Zoe Wilder or Nash Austin. You are forbidden to bring up Faith or any of the stories because—for this weekend—in your new reality, they don't exist." She paused, letting that dramatic statement sink in. "Your character profiles were mailed to you. Did everyone receive them?"
Several participants bobbed their heads in assent, while a murmured chorus of yeses drifted through the room.
Trudy smiled encouragingly. "Excellent. I'm assuming all of you have read your profiles, but I would advise you to take the opportunity this afternoon to go over them again. Faith designed this game so that each of you could literally step into an adventure. Each of you has a key part, delivers key clues … and red herrings," she added with a small smile. "Each of you plays an integral part of this mystery. And the best thing about this game is that none of you—not even the character who unwittingly plays the thief—knows the outcome." Her eyes twinkled.
An excited hush moved through the crowd, and though he wouldn't have initially thought he would enjoy something like this, Lex found himself genuinely intrigued. Now that he knew the way Faith's crafty little mind worked, he looked forward to seeing if he could figure out who she'd made the thief, to seeing if he could solve the mystery.
"In order for everyone to have a wonderful experience, the rules have to be followed to the letter," Trudy continued. "I cannot stress that enough." She looked out over the crowd. "Are there any questions?" No one spoke. "Good," she said briskly, finishing up the instructions. "We'll meet for dinner tonight at six in the dining room, and will begin play promptly thereafter."
Lex waited for the ecstatic group to disperse, then made his way over to where Trudy was gathering her things. "You handled that well," he told her. "I'd wondered how you meant to keep from letting the cat out of the bag."
Trudy straightened and for the first time Lex noted the anxious wrinkle between her eyes. The strain of the ruse and concern for her friend seemed to be taking their toll. "I couldn't figure out any other way to make it work. If one of them slips up…" She left the rest unsaid, but Lex didn't have any problem filling in the blank. He had the same concerns.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Doc called a little while ago to check on her."
"What does he think?"
Lex sighed. "He assured me that we're doing the right thing, that she'll come back when she's ready."
Trudy had trouble m
eeting his gaze, but she finally did and a sad smile shaped her lips. "But what if she's never ready, Lex? What if she likes being Zoe Wilder better than she liked being Faith Bonner?"
Lex blinked, taken aback. Curiously, the thought hadn't occurred to him. "Surely not," he scoffed uncertainly. He frowned. "Is her real life that bad?"
Trudy hesitated, clearly torn between voicing her thoughts and sharing personal aspects of her friend's life. "Her life isn't that bad, no," she finally admitted. "But I do think it's that lonely."
Lonely? So even though Faith had based Zoe on herself, Nash had been born strictly of her imagination. Irrational relief expanded in his chest, pushing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding out of his lungs. "So there is no Nash in her real life?"
Trudy shook her head. "If there was, don't you think he would be here? That's my point exactly." She sighed wearily. "In this life … she has you. Why would she want to go back?"
Leaving him with that heavy thought, Trudy walked away, citing final preparations that needed to be seen to.
For a moment, Lex stood there, rooted to the carpet.
In this life she has you. Why would she want to go back?
His heart tripped in his chest and his tongue suddenly turned to sandpaper. In the dimmest part of his mind, Lex had worried that her memory might not come back, but he'd pushed the concern aside, because, frankly, he hadn't had time to worry about it. The part of his brain that hadn't been occupied keeping this hellish attraction under control had been busy tending to the lodge, learning his role, listening to the tapes—he'd finished up the last two last night and had even managed to skim those highlighted parts of the books Trudy had given him.
But he hadn't had time to so much as think about when her memory might come back—he'd been more concerned with making sure this weekend was as successful as Trudy insisted it had to be.
With keeping his hands to himself.
Now her parting comment penetrated those other concerns and hit a bull's-eye in Worry Central. What would they do if her memory didn't come back? What the hell was plan B?
Doc Givens had said to give it a week, then consult a neurologist, but he'd been less than hopeful that one could help. What other options did that leave? Lex wondered now. Telling her the truth? Doc had advised against that course of action, yet continuing to play the part of Nash Austin was completely out of the question.
Or at least it should be.
Curiously, he didn't find the idea as onerous as he should have. Granted, being the object of Zoe's love for the past couple of days had been heartily nerve-racking, but it had also been rather … nice.
Particularly when she really was Faith.
Zoe was merely a character, an exaggerated extension of Faith, and he no longer considered the former when he thought of her in terms of a woman.
He'd been attracted to Faith.
To him, she was Faith.
The end.
And it was quite a thing to be loved by a woman like that, to be the recipient of her undivided attention. Her affection. To be catered to, respected, loved, desired. Lex sighed as a tingling sensation took root in his chest.
Powerful stuff, that.
For one insane instant, he entertained the idea of talking "Zoe" into retiring from her action-adventure lifestyle, pretending that Nash bought the lodge so the two of them could live happily ever after on his mountain.
But then a disturbing truth surfaced and the dream vanished in a whiff of smoke—he was not Nash Austin.
No matter what she thought right now, Lex was not the man she was in love with. She was in love with a character, one she'd crafted herself, and Lex knew that he didn't have a prayer of competing with her larger-than-life hero. He didn't know how to be a hero—he was a real man, with imperfections and idiosyncrasies that would likely drive her nuts. He could be surly and impatient, overbearing and arrogant.
Simply put, he was a guy.
With guy urges.
Last night he'd waited until he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Faith would be asleep before heading to bed. Trudy had insisted it would be out of character for Nash to sleep on the porch again, so he'd gritted his teeth, prepared himself for a night of hell and had finally gone to his room around 2:00 a.m.
Faith had fallen asleep with the bedside lamp on. She'd been curled up on her side with a hand pillowed beneath her cheek. The other clutched the comforter tightly beneath her pert chin. She'd slung a bare leg over the top of the coverlet and a sliver of black satin and lace brushed the top of her thigh.
His breath had stalled in his lungs, his chest had contracted painfully with some unnamed terrifying emotion and, for interminable minutes, he'd just stood there, unable to move. A woman was finally in his room—in his bed—and if he paraded hundreds of them through here, he knew he'd never see another one who actually belonged.
She did.
And with that realization, three things hit him at once. Overwhelming peace, gut-wrenching fear and pure unadulterated need.
Then he'd stopped thinking altogether, stripped down to a T-shirt and boxers, and gingerly slid into bed next to her.
She'd murmured a nonsensical sound, something sleepy and incoherent—profoundly sexy—then instantly bellied up to his back and sighed, a breath as soft as a warm breeze. He'd tensed at first, but once he'd gotten over the shock of her lush breasts branding him, gotten past the feel of her slim leg slung over his thigh, he'd started to relax.
With a hard-on he couldn't have gotten rid of by lifting a two-ton truck. He chuckled softly.
She was the one, Lex had realized, the conclusion alarmingly swift and startlingly clear amid a minefield of uncertainties. And somehow, after all of this was over—after she'd gotten her memory back—he had to make her his, had to try and wrestle her love away from a figment of her imagination, from a fictitious hero she'd designed herself.
An ironic chuckle fizzed up the back of his throat. He had to have Faith. With that thought, he'd drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
From her vantage point on the second-story landing, Zoe looked at the crowd of assembled guests and resisted the depressing urge to sigh. One of these innocuous-looking, laughing, happy people was a jewel thief. One of them, under Boyle's orders, had murdered a security guard and fled with over a half-million dollars in uncut diamonds.
That one, Zoe resolutely decided, would pay.
She shook her head. It was really such a shame that greed could lead a person to do such heinous things.
Melanie joined her in surveying the crowd. "So what do you think?" she asked.
"I think they all look innocent," Zoe replied with a grin, and it was the truth. She'd personally read over each of the About Me forms the participants had provided for the event, and many of them seemed entirely too normal for the character and duplicity needed to pull off such a crime.
There were a couple of retired schoolteachers, a social worker from Mississippi, a postman from Detroit, an engineer, a salesclerk, a flight attendant, a nurse and a couple of housewives. All of these people represented Middle America, the salt-of-the-earth types—but one of them was lying. Zoe frowned. It seemed utterly impossible to her that one of them was a thief. And yet her intel couldn't be wrong.
One of them was guilty.
Her job was to find that one and bring him or her to justice.
She had to keep focused. Hell, it wasn't as if the thief was going to wear a big T on his shirt, or brandish his loot and make it easy for her. This one had been a savvy crook, and it would take a little savvy maneuvering to unmask him, or her, as the case may be.
Zoe's lips quirked and determination stiffened her spine. Luckily, she was up to the task. "Any one of them stand out? Seem more likely than any of the others?" Melanie asked. She had briefed the group first, giving Zoe that much more time to study their forms and get Larson to run preliminary background checks.
"I'll know more when I meet them, but based on what I've read, I'd say
the engineer and the flight attendant. Both frequently travel with their jobs, can move from country to country without suspicion. According to Larson, both have been to Colombia recently. Steve, the engineer, was on business for his company, and Gabrielle, the flight attendant, had a two-day layover during the time of the theft."
Melanie hummed thoughtfully under her breath. "Has Nash booked them into rooms that can be easily monitored and searched?"
Zoe nodded. "He has. Though he doesn't know it, I'm going to do a quick look-through tonight during dinner. I've arranged for Larson to put through a call I 'have to take,' and I'll slip away."
"Are you sure that's wise?" Melanie asked. "Shouldn't Nash go with you?"
"No," Zoe sighed. "I can work more quickly without him." Besides, anytime she and Nash came near a bed, she got ideas in her head that didn't have anything to do with catching a thief or any other bad guy, for that matter. She thought about tearing his clothes off and having her wicked way with him, a prospect she entertained even more frequently of late.
Though she hadn't gotten to relieve him of his clothes and do all the wonderfully depraved things she craved last night, at least she'd awoken in his arms this morning. She'd done it countless times before, of course. Theirs had been a long relationship, more than three years, if memory served, but for some reason waking up with him this morning had felt curiously … new.
That totally Nash scent, faintly woodsy and male, had seemed sharper, more real, and the way his masculine hair abraded her bare leg had been positively delicious. His warm, hard body had inspired images of naked limbs, sibilant sighs … hot sex. Her belly had grown all hot and muddled and her insides had commenced a low, steady simmer. Every cell in her body had been almost painfully aware of him and she'd wanted—wanted—more than she ever had in her life.
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