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“Yeah,” Nicole said with a knowing look at Venus. They finished the thought in unison. “At least you were wearing ’em.”
The three of them, strangers until ten minutes before, but sisters just the same, shared a moment of soft laughter. It had been a long time since Nicole had felt so connected to other women, and she enjoyed it. If only for a moment.
Venus said, “I guess we’ve been members of the bad girls’ club since birth, huh?”
Sydney silently lifted her glass in salute, and Nicole followed suit. Venus popped the cap off a beer and joined them.
The door opened again, reminding Nicole what she was doing there. Two young women wearing business suits barely spared her and her new friends a glance as they joined the men in the booth.
“Oh, no, a good girl’s in sight, reign in the lust,” Venus whispered.
Nicole picked up her drink and moved next to Sydney, then introduced herself. They chatted for several more minutes, until the ring of Sydney’s cell phone interrupted.
Venus moved away to wait on the two newcomers, then returned just as Sydney was finishing her call. The woman drained her glass and dropped a bill on the counter. Nicole noted the crisp one hundred dollar bill.
Venus picked it up. “I’ll get your change.”
Sydney told her to keep it and get Nicole good and drunk. Then, with a cheery wave, she walked toward the door. But before she could reach for the handle, the door opened and Nicole watched a man come in. She narrowed her eyes, taking in the big brown-haired man who had the solid build of a cop.
Number one weakness at ten o’clock. Her sexual radar homed in on him. Cop or no, he was a man. And a striking one at that.
She watched as he skirted around a departing Sydney, then approached the bar, his gaze on one woman and one woman only: Venus.
Nicole let out a long, mental sigh. It was just as well. After her last encounter with the opposite sex, she’d do well to fly solo for a while. Still, it could have been…interesting if the fine male specimen was the one shadowing her.
She eyed Venus, who looked a breath away from either blindsiding the latest arrival or pulling him across the bar and laying a wet one on him.
“Hi, Venus.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m thirsty,” he said as he slid onto a bar stool and tapped his fingers on the pitted wood surface of the bar. “What do you recommend? A Screaming Orgasm? Sex on the Beach?”
Venus smirked. “Screaming Orgasm Up Against the Wall is always a good choice.”
“How about Screaming Orgasm Up Against the Bathroom Counter? Or in the Pool?” The man’s grin was even dirtier than his words implied.
Nicole let out a low whistle, not having to question whether or not this was the man Venus had referred to earlier. “Yep. Definitely oughta be illegal.” Just being within five feet of the couple reminded her why she could never swear off men, no matter how much trouble they caused. She smiled at Venus, then made her way out of the bar.
The door slowly closed behind her as she tucked her chin into her chest and scanned the street from beneath her lashes. Nothing. Not a single suspicious person in sight. Just an ordinary, perfect early summer day and the foot traffic it encouraged.
She shifted her backpack to her other shoulder as she started one way, then changed her mind and walked in the opposite direction, the sensation of being followed mysteriously gone.
Could she have been wrong? She took a deep breath, then released it, wondering if paranoia was something that went along with age. Of course, it didn’t help that out of the three members of her family, she was the only active thief left. Her brother Jeremy had hung up the title a year ago when he’d met and married Joanna. Her father…
Nicole swallowed hard. Maybe that was why she was so hypersensitive about everything lately. What had happened to her father…well, she was going to make damn sure it didn’t happen to her.
She slid a glance over her shoulder. A shadow retreated into a doorway.
She twisted her lips. Maybe she hadn’t been imagining things, after all….
ALEX CASSAVETES melded into the doorway of the pub the wily and alluring Nicole Bennett had exited moments earlier. He absently rubbed his chin. She’d spotted him. He knew she had. What did that say about him as a one-time detective in the N.Y.P.D. robbery division and current insurance investigator?
Apparently not a whole hell of a lot.
Alex pushed up his jacket sleeve and glanced at his watch. He’d be a moron to try to tail her now. He suspected she’d caught onto him before she’d even entered the pub. It’s the reason he hadn’t followed her in. He still couldn’t believe that the instant he’d stepped out from the coffee shop where he’d been waiting across the street she’d looked back and made eye contact even though a good hundred feet separated them.
Damn.
Stepping from the doorway, he made his way in the opposite direction, not even looking at where Nicole had been moments before. To have come so far and to have blown it so close to meeting his objective was incompetent at best, stupid at worst.
The heels of his shoes thudded against the sidewalk, echoing against the building-crowded Baltimore street. Nicole Bennett, thief of thieves, had flown from New York to Baltimore a little more than three days ago. And he’d been right there with her every step. Following her into lingerie shops. Eating lunch a few tables away from hers. Even securing the room across from hers in the glorified flophouse that advertised hourly rates on the faded brick exterior.
But nothing in his thirty-two-year existence had prepared him for meeting her gaze head-on.
“The eyes of a witch,” Panayiota, his Greek grandmother would have said. Black, fathomless eyes that could either repel you or pull you in. He could only imagine what impact those almond-shaped eyes would have on him at close range. Photographs, no matter how vividly real, didn’t come close to depicting the genuine article. He’d just learned that the hard way.
“You’re losing it, Cassavetes,” he muttered to himself, turning a corner and suppressing the urge to duck to the side and see if she was watching him.
No. His best bet now would be to return to the boardinghouse and hope she would come back so he could pick up her trail again.
Even as he thought it, Alex knew she wouldn’t return. She was the type that, once she sensed danger, would disappear back into the woodwork from which she’d emerged. A search of her room yesterday and this morning had revealed absolutely nothing of the woman who inhabited it. Nothing that would require her to return to the room. His guess was that she either kept her personal items in her generously sized leather tote, or that her occasional visits to various bus and airport lockers explained the lack of anything left behind.
Which is exactly why she’d been so difficult to catch.
And precisely the reason he intended to catch her.
Alex Cassavetes always nabbed his man. Or in this case, his woman. A very clever, seductive and endlessly fascinating woman who slipped through his fingers like quicksilver and for the first time made him question his abilities as an insurance investigator.
He caught himself fingering an item in his pants pocket, then slid it out and stared at it. No, you wouldn’t find Nicole Bennett’s likeness on any Wanted posters. Or even any alerts circulating to local and federal law enforcement agencies. Nicole Bennett—if that was even her name—was smarter than that. For the most part, she targeted other thieves. Marks that would have to be the ultimate in obtuse to report the thefts. She was more of a ghost that sensed when a large score was about to go down and then would swoop in and make off with the booty with nary a soul the wiser.
Except for Alex.
He stepped into the lobby of the rundown hotel where he’d hung his hat for the past two days, eyed where an aging hooker and a john were haggling with the desk manager, then took the steps to the second floor two at a time.
He couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment when he’d put two-and-two together and come away with Nicole Bennett. He’d been in the middle of the third month of tracking down the diamonds that Christine Bowman and her dangerous band of thieves had made away with. Christine had been arrested and charged, and later convicted, of the theft and the death of two security guards, but the diamonds had never been recovered. The insurance company he worked for had been out a great deal of money. But something had been bothering him about the whole case, something hovering just beyond his reach. So he’d pulled an all-nighter going over everything related to the case when something in his brain finally clicked. He’d methodically thumbed through the security shots taken from a St. Louis bus station and found the image of the woman standing half in shadow in the far corner while Christine Bowman was arrested on the other side of the station. The mystery woman had gone unnoticed, despite her black leather trench coat and striking features. Then he’d rifled through photos taken from similar thefts, incidents where the thieves were caught but the spoils were curiously missing. And he’d come across two more partial photographs of the shadowy woman in black standing on the fringes of the goings-on. An interview with St. Louis P.I. Ripley Logan had yielded him a name: Nicole Bennett.
The same name on the hotel register for the room across from his.
He turned the corner of the second-floor hall. His room was halfway down the vomit-green corridor with its narrow wood doors and tarnished knob and lock plates. Room 107. He slid his key into the lock, then paused, the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He slid a glance over his shoulder at the peephole to Room 108. Nicole?
He pushed his door open and paused. Before he could question the wisdom of his actions, he walked across the hall and knocked on the door to Room 108, his gaze steadily on the peephole.
Silence.
Alex cocked a half grin. He knew she was there. Sensed it with every molecule.
He raised his hand to knock again, then heard the lock mechanism turn. And instantly found out exactly what it was like to encounter those coal-black eyes up close and personal.
Nicole Bennett swung the door open all the way, then leaned against the jamb and crossed her arms.
Alex felt like someone had just given him a sucker punch to the gut. There emanated such a sizzling current about her that he was distantly surprised he wasn’t suffering electrocution.
“You wanted something?” she asked, looking at him as intently as he was looking at her.
Alex’s grin grew. Oh, but she was slick. Very slick. You wouldn’t suspect that she was aware he was tailing her. But he knew. Knew by the way he hadn’t heard her step to the door—she must have been standing on the other side of it watching for him. And since he knew she’d already seen him on the street, well, he had plenty of evidence that proved she wasn’t that dumb.
He allowed his gaze to drop to the deep vee of her black leather vest. She had a knockout figure. Not that you could tell by the loose leather coat she’d worn up until a few weeks ago when the warm weather had forbidden it. He appreciated the subtle muscle tone of her arms, and the way her breasts pressed together, offering up a virtual buffet of sweet flesh that made his mouth water.
“Yes,” he said, raising his gaze back to her face to find her cheeks touched with the slightest color.
“Hi, I’m Alex.” He waited for her to offer an introduction of herself, but wasn’t surprised when she didn’t. “I’m across the hall.” He tried looking into her room, as if he hadn’t been in it two minutes after she had left that morning. “Did housekeeping bring you towels? Because I—”
She stepped from the door to the tiny bathroom to her right and grabbed a dingy gray, threadbare towel. She handed it to him.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” She closed the door, then slid the lock home.
Alex stood for long moments grinning at his feet. There hadn’t been the sound of her moving away from the door, which meant that she was probably looking at him again from the peephole. He decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to give a little salute as he crossed back to the other side of the hall.
Interesting. He let himself into his room. She had not only come back to the hotel, but didn’t seem fazed in the least by the knowledge that he was tailing her. Or she wasn’t entirely certain and was trying to force his hand. Either way, he gave her a lot of credit. Never in his career had he met a woman so sure of herself.
And so totally hot.
Maybe this wasn’t over yet.
2
ALEX.
Mmm…
Nicole stood on the fringes of the party, her short, sleek socialite blond wig in place—nothing too flashy or too trendy—her black dress clingy yet elegant. Her second favorite quote after Bette Davis’s memorable words were “Lead me not into temptation; I can find the way myself,” written by author Rita Mae Brown. And if Alex was anything, he was one hundred percent pure temptation. And like it or not, she was definitely leading herself into it…and to him.
She twisted her lips and scanned the gathering of a hundred and fifty people looking for anyone that might appear out of place. A little voice told her that the instant she’d made her tail, she should have been in a taxi straight to the airport. Forget the boardinghouse. Forget the job. Forget everything but losing Alex. She accepted a champagne flute from a passing waiter with a small, close-lipped smile, then watched him move on, unwittingly comparing him to the man who was occupying far too much of her thoughts.
Alex.
At over six feet, he was tall enough to put him squarely in the danger category when it came to her and her attraction to tall men. His hair was nearly as dark as hers, brown and silky and enticingly touchable. His eyes were an opaque green and seemed to crackle with a knowing, a sexual energy that made her mouth water just looking at him. But it was his lips—full and captivating—that made her nipples tighten and her thighs vibrate.
Okay, so he was attractive. To the point of distraction. Which was exactly the reason she should never have gone back to the hotel. Especially since his very essence seemed to scream “cop.” Hadn’t she had enough problems in her love life lately without adding a sex god of a cop to the mix?
She wrinkled her nose and lifted her glass to toast an elderly gentleman eyeing her favorably from across the room. A good six hours had passed since she’d first spotted Alex, then watched him unlock the door across the hall. Of course, she’d had no idea he would turn and look right at her through the peephole, then be even bolder yet by knocking on her door and asking about housekeeping when he hadn’t even walked fully into his room first. But at least her suspicions had been confirmed.
She pretended to sip the sparkling wine. Definitely Dom Perignon. The Theismans of the Baltimore Theismans, the multimillion-dollar hosts of tonight’s little soiree, knew how to throw a party. Nothing but the best, especially for the first-year wedding anniversary of the mismatched couple standing near the fireplace mantel. Nicole slightly craned her neck, judging Mrs. Theisman to be closer to twenty than she was thirty, and Mr. Theisman, head of Theisman Telecommunications, pushing closer to seventy. She idly wondered what place number this particular trophy wife held. Two? No. More than likely three. Or possibly even four.
Nicole politely nodded at a woman who came to stand near her.
“Lovely couple, aren’t they?” the guest commented.
Nicole hiked a brow. “Lovely” wasn’t a word she’d use to describe the twosome. Revolting hit closer to home. “Aren’t they just?” she said before discreetly moving away.
She shifted her weight from one expensive pump to the other. Who was she to criticize? If she judged the men she dated more on character than looks, maybe she wouldn’t run into the problems she did. Perhaps if she expanded her criteria beyond tall, gorgeous and built like a linebacker, she wouldn’t have to worry about waking up one morning and finding the guy had come across her stolen Tiffany jewelry and called the cops on her.
A waitress drifted by her from the opposite direction. Nicole squinted at her neck where the top of a black tattoo peeked from her starched white shirt. If her calculations were correct, the thieves were going to strike tonight, taking full advantage of the hubbub created by the party, when the house’s security system would be on low alert and it would be easy for the thieves to move among the guests. They would also probably fall back on the tried and true method of posing as temporary catering staff in order to do it. Not difficult considering the young Mrs. Theisman had chosen a new caterer with a transient, unbonded staff instead of going with the long-established company her peers used. No doubt attempting to make her mark as a stylish hostess. Instead she’d set herself up as an easy target.
Nicole’s gaze went to the sweeping staircase to her left. She’d gotten wind of the heist the day before Sebastian had elected himself her latest ex. She didn’t know the details, or who was in on it, but once word started circulating in her circles about easily fenced merchandise, the theft was as good as done. Since then, she’d had three days to do her homework. She knew there were three safes in the eight-bedroom Theisman mansion. One in the downstairs study. One in the master bathroom. And another cleverly hidden beneath the oriental carpet under a double bed in the third guest room.
She guessed that would be the hiding place of the over two hundred thousand in insured uncut rubies Mr. Theisman had bought as an anniversary gift for his trophy wife.
The question was whether the thieves had hit the safe yet.
She glanced at her slender faux-diamond watch, then accidentally spilled a bit of champagne on the front of her dress. Excusing herself from the small group of guests that conversed around her, she headed for the back of the house and the kitchen, rather than seeking out the bathroom just off the foyer. Within minutes she had her shoes in her hand and was slinking up the back stairwell, easily navigating the frenzied catering staff in the kitchen, and surmising that at least one of the original servers was missing. Her observation was immediately confirmed by the woman sweating over an oven when she asked if anyone had seen a man named Mike.
Nicole reached the second floor, thankful for vain wealthy homeowners who didn’t like to see the help unless they had to. She had access to every room upstairs without the risk of being seen. Dim, recessed lighting illuminated the long, curving hall bearing gold-framed prints of Baltimore. Worlds away from the water-stained dingy corridors of the Commodore Hotel. But somehow Nicole always felt safer in those dingy places. More…real, somehow. Less exposed. Although she’d long ago learned to blend in with any crowd, it took less effort to disappear into the background of the less privileged. The people who knew what it meant to struggle. They weren’t struggling to make a towering mortgage or work a sauna into their monthly budget. No, they were struggling for survival. And rarely looked beyond the few inches in front of them because they hoped somewhere there lay their salvation, the answer to all their problems.
Alex intruded on her thoughts again. He’d find it difficult to blend in anywhere. Aside from his considerable height and striking good looks, there was something…different about him, something Nicole couldn’t put her finger on. Something that bothered her on a fundamental level and had nothing to do with his likely being a cop. Something that made her want to return to the hotel that night instead of getting on the twelve o’clock train back to New York.
With the rubies, she thought, forcefully reminding herself of the reason she was there.
She ducked into the guest room across the hall from the one that held the third safe and pushed the door closed until it was just slightly ajar.
How long had it been since her mind had been on anything but the task at hand? If she had been considering which law enforcement agency Alex worked for, that would be one thing. Wondering what it would be like to run her tongue along the fine, freshly shaven line of his strong jaw was quite another.
A shadow.
Nicole reached for her purse with her left hand and took out the small-caliber pistol there. The only time that the saying “size doesn’t matter” applied was in the world of guns. As long as the wielder knew what she was doing, a peashooter was more than enough firepower to stop a stampede of bison. She thumbed the safety and watched a figure in a waiter’s uniform exit the master bedroom at the end of the hall, then move in her direction. She made a face. Either he was greedy and had gone after what trinkets the main safe held, or he hadn’t figured out that the rubies were most likely in the third safe. Which made him either wet behind the ears or a moron. Or a dangerous combination of both. While she could easily explain away her presence in the guest room—that very notably didn’t hold a safe—by saying she’d felt light-headed and needed to lie down for a moment, a man wearing a waiter’s uniform sneaking into the guest bedroom that did hold a safe was another matter altogether.
“And, lucky contestant, would you like to see the prize you’ll be playing for?” she murmured to herself. “Roddy, show him what he could win tonight….”
And that prize was what she fully planned to take away from him the instant he had the little beauties in hand and had successfully made his escape.
The thief glanced in her direction. Nicole moved back a couple of inches to keep from being seen.
And found her backside flush against something very hard, very warm and very definitely male.
“Oh!” She gasped, feeling every panic alarm go off all at once.
“MMM. THE CONTESTANT’S very lucky, indeed,” Alex murmured against Nicole’s ear.
The scent of cinnamon candy, subtle yet distinctive, teased his nose, while certain strategic areas teased other parts of his anatomy.
Damn, but she smelled good. Clean, spicy and overwhelmingly sexy. Alex couldn’t resist resting his chin against the hair curving against the side of Nicole’s neck as he steadied her with his hands on her hips.
“Seems we keep bumping into each other,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. The touch of nerves humming just below the surface made it sound like a purr. He idly wondered if she might be part cat. Such feline characteristics would be an advantage in her chosen profession. One had to be light on her feet to be successful in this business. And, of course, it didn’t hurt to have an extra life or two in case you lost one along the way.
He skimmed his fingers down her bare arm, feeling her shiver against him as he eased the small, customized pistol she held from her warm fingers. He looked at it. “Cute.”
