“Sorry.” He tipped his chin toward the painting. “This is your work, right?”
“Mm-hmm. Not my best, but one Aunt Emma fell in love with.”
“I have to agree with your aunt. It’s very good. Incredibly lonely, though.”
Her eyes hooded. “Guess I captured the mood of my childhood, at least the time when I was with my mother.”
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. Damn it. He couldn’t let emotions get in the way of the job he had to do. The consequences of failure would be more than he could bear. He forced his thoughts to Lizzy, and what could happen to her if he didn’t do what Rodrigo wanted. He conjured an image of his sister, helpless in her wheelchair, unable to defend herself from those vicious thugs. Fear twisted in his gut, until he tamped down all thoughts of Lizzy, and met Sam’s stare. “Sounds like you’ve been cooking up a storm in there.”
She shrugged. “Easy stuff. I hope you like eggs. And tomatoes. We’re having a frittata and garlic-cheese bread.”
“Sounds delicious.” While she checked on their dinner, he refilled her wine. Alcohol might loosen her up enough to confide in him. Handing her the glass, he savored the aromas of basil, oregano, and cheese. “Smells great. What can I do to help?”
“Set the table.” She handed him napkins and forks, their fingers touching for a brief moment. Their gazes met and held, and sparks charged the atmosphere between them. Until Sam broke the connection and turned away.
Liking her wasn’t part of the plan. Feelings would only complicate his mission.
She plated the frittata and set out a basket of bread. Gesturing toward one of the simple wooden chairs, she sat opposite Eli. “Dig in.”
The food was as good as any he’d had at five-star hotels in Nevada or Atlantic City. After they finished eating, he insisted on doing the dishes. That done, he opened the pinot noir and brought their glasses to the living room sofa.
Sam hesitated. “I’m pretty tired.”
If she fell asleep while he was there, he could slip back to her room and hopefully find the jewel. Then he could get the hell out of there and not have to face her. Better that he should quickly rip off the bandage rather than prolong their time together. “Just one nightcap?”
A slow smile settled on her lips. “You drive a hard bargain.” She took the wine from him and drank. Her eyes were getting glassy. “I don’t indulge very often, and hardly ever this much, thanks to my mother’s addictive habits. This stuff is way better than I’ve had in a long time, though. Maybe ever.”
He’d been nursing his drink all night, which he doubted she’d noticed, although if he got buzzed, maybe his mission—and the fact that Sam was going to be destroyed by it—wouldn’t be so difficult to swallow. He settled in next to her and tapped his glass to hers. “So, tell me more about Samantha. You said your mom and your aunt took turns raising you. Was your father in the picture at all?”
The furrow of her brow reflected unhealed emotional scars. “Not much. Dad was a lot older than my mother. They were only married for about five minutes. Mom kicked him out while I was still in diapers. He called me three years ago, said he wanted to rebuild our relationship.”
At least someone else besides her aunt had cared about her.
“But then he died a couple years later.” She took a healthy swallow of wine. Ginger jumped onto the sofa and curled up on Sam’s lap as if the cat sensed Sam’s emotions.
He patted the cat’s head. “I’m sorry. Was he an artist like you?”
“He was a gemologist, traveled around the country going to gem and mineral shows.” Her eyes widened. “That’s what I got from him. I’ve been wandering my whole life. I’ve always been a bit of a rolling stone.” She smiled at her joke.
“Cute.” He couldn’t tear his gaze from her pretty face. Those cornflower eyes sparkled. When she smiled, it was like the sun peeking through the clouds after a spring rain. A heavy silence hung in the space between them. Until he reminded himself that he was there for a reason. “A gemologist. Sounds interesting.”
She rolled her eyes. “Never was to me. But maybe that’s because he seemed to care more about his amethyst cathedrals and his Dominican amber specimens than he did about me.”
Forcing himself to ignore the tug at his chest, he continued drawing her out. “I’m sure you were more important to him than gems. Did he ever give you any that you liked?”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and stared at him for several seconds. Did she suspect anything?
“He left me one in his will,” she finally answered. “A magic sapphire brooch. When someone holds it or wears it, they can’t tell a lie.” A sad smile settled on her lips. “From the man who repeatedly lied to me. I might not be able to spell irony, but I know it when I hear it.”
The confirmation that she had the jewel was more bitter than sweet. “Sounds intriguing, if you believe in that sort of stuff. Have you ever tested it?” Would this be so easy as merely asking her to show him the gemstone?
Her lips bunched to one side, but she didn’t say anything. After several beats, she brightened. “I almost forgot. I have something for you.” She set the cat aside and sprung off the sofa, disappearing from the room.
Eli scanned the living room in search of anything that might be a hiding spot for the sapphire. Unfortunately for him, Sam’s aunt was apparently one of those people with numerous collections. A dozen or more small pendulums hung from the curtain rods over both windows; several shelves held boxes of tarot cards and crystal balls on pedestals; baskets of all shapes and sizes were scattered all over the room. He’d never find something so small as a brooch in a hoarder’s paradise like her aunt’s house.
If he couldn’t get Sam to reveal where the sapphire was, he’d be forced to break in when she wasn’t there, and search everything. Another potential crime to add to his resume.
While she was gone, he filled her glass almost to the rim. That invisible weight he hadn’t been able to shake, kept pressing on him.
Sam came back carrying a black zippered portfolio and set it on the coffee table in front of him. Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath before she sat down and opened the zipper. “I really hope you like this.” She pulled out a large sketchpad, opened it to the middle, and handed it to Eli. “It’s not a hundred percent finished yet, but I wanted you to see it.”
She’d made a drawing of him. The vise around his insides squeezed tighter. “This is incredible, Sam.” She’d captured him perfectly, almost like a photo, but with more depth and emotion. Her technique reminded him of the drawings and paintings at a museum exhibit Lizzy had taken him to when he was a kid. Contemporary realism, his sister had called the style.
Only his face was done in Sam’s drawing, but the way she’d drawn his eyes was startling. They appeared to look straight at him—or rather, through him, accusing him. His own guilt stared back at him. He swallowed hard and straightened. “I can’t believe you did this, and so fast. I love it.”
She waved off his praise. “Not everyone is okay with being drawn.” She took a sip of her wine. “Sometimes, I can’t help myself.” She flipped a few sheets forward to a pencil drawing of a middle-aged woman sitting on a park bench. “Like this lady I sketched when I was living in upstate New York. I was hoping she might buy it. But oh my God, she freaked out when she saw it. She started saying stuff about suing me and invading her privacy.”
And he knew why. Sam had a knack for capturing the essence of her subjects, which was a little disconcerting, especially for people with something to hide.
Closing the tablet, she sighed. “I grabbed my supplies and ran. I mean, I don’t have a pot, if you know what I mean. I sure as heck don’t need a lawsuit.”
But she did have something valuable. And he was going to steal from her. He took a sip of wine to wash away the bitter taste in the back of his throat.
“Makes you wonder what’s beneath the surface, you know?”
He shook his head. “I’m not
sure I understand what you mean.”
She closed her eyes for a second. “Like she probably had a reason for being so suspicious of me. Maybe someone had invaded her privacy before, and that was why she was so uptight about me drawing her.” A wry grin brightened her expression. “Or she was on the lam for…murdering her lover or stealing millions from the company she worked for. Everyone has a story, stuff they’re hiding.”
He forced a chuckle, yet her observation had struck a nerve with him. “You have quite an imagination.”
Her eyelids were droopy. She was getting tipsy. “I don’t know about that. You never can tell what people are really about. Most wear masks some of the time, others always do.”
His mouth was suddenly dry as dust. “You think everyone’s dishonest?”
She drained her glass. “Everyone I’ve dealt with.”
“What about your Aunt Emma? You said she took you in, helped raise you.”
“She did, and she also candy-coated a lot of things. Her lies were white, but they were still dishonest.” Her eyes went liquid. “My mother always denied she’d been doing drugs, and time after time, my father promised he was coming to see me for a birthday or Christmas. He never did. Only lies. All the guys I’ve dated either cheated or lied or left me when they promised to hang around. I guess that’s just what people do.”
He wanted to deny it, tell her that there were good people in the world, but he’d rarely encountered any. And he was destined to earn a spot on her list of people who’d deceived her. God, he hated himself for it.
“Want some more wine?” Sam stood up, wobbling as she did. “Whew.”
Eli reached for her arm to steady her, but before he could get her, she practically collapsed, half on the cushion, half on him.
She stayed there for a moment until a rosy flush crawled up her neck and face. She shifted off of him. “Whoops. Sorry about that.”
He wasn’t. What was the matter with him? She was the very last woman in the world he should be attracted to. Another reason to disappear from her life as soon as he got the brooch.
Instead of standing, she leaned against his shoulder. “You smell good.”
Summoning all his restraint, he started to move away. Until Sam hooked her hand around his neck and pulled him closer. Their eyes were an inch apart.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears. He blocked everything out of his mind. There was no mission, no loan shark, no threats. Only the fascinating woman he was starting to like way more than he had a right to.
Then her lips were on his. He circled his arms around her waist and drew her against him. She tasted of good wine and innocence. And he wanted more. He cupped her face, caressing her satiny skin, running his thumb over the pale freckles on her cheek, deepening the kiss.
Sam broke contact and her lips—still swollen and red from their kiss—moved as if she was trying to formulate words.
He didn’t want to hear the reasons why they shouldn’t; they’d just met, hardly knew each other. Hell, he had way more cause to stop than Sam did, but he yearned for more. He pressed his lips to hers for another taste and drank in her sweetness.
Her pleasured moan assured him they were on the same page. She climbed onto his lap, facing him. If they didn’t stop, he wouldn’t be able to stand up. And he couldn’t let this go too far. He kissed the tip of her nose, her forehead, then eased her off of him.
Her puzzled expression cut through him. As much as he desired her, making love to her now would make him the worst kind of jerk. “We shouldn’t.”
The pulse at her temples fluttered. “I thought…”
Gathering her hands in his, he kissed her fingers. “You thought right, believe me. But…I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow.”
The excuse didn’t do much to ease the disappointment in her expression. He’d wounded her already-fragile ego. Another transgression against her. The list was growing.
Unless… Maybe he could convince Rodrigo to give him a different assignment, some other task to pay back his debt. There had to be something else Diaz wanted. Or he could try to up the limit on his credit card and take a cash advance to pay part of his gambling debt. His Visa was maxed out from paying the private duty nurse after Lizzy had fallen several months ago. It was already going to take him years to get out of debt, so what did it matter if he added more? He’d do anything to get out of hurting Sam.
He kissed her cheek.
Her lips flattened to a thin line. “That feels like goodbye.”
The disillusionment in her eyes ripped through him. “No, Sam, not at all. How about I come by the shop tomorrow? I can help you with the customers. As soon as I’m finished with my meeting.”
She brightened. “That’d be great.”
“I love the drawing.”
Glancing toward her sketchpad, she shrugged one shoulder. “It’ll be better when I’m done with it.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” Rather than torture himself anymore, he got up. “I should be going.”
“Yeah, I guess you should. See you tomorrow?”
“Definitely.” He headed out, and as soon as he started his car, he checked the time. Didn’t matter that it was past eleven. Rodrigo’s evening exploits were probably just beginning, although Eli couldn’t care less if he woke him up. He called the contact number that he’d been given on the flash drive.
Diaz’s voicemail picked up after several rings.
A light went on in one of Sam’s windows. Her pretty blue eyes flashed in his mind, her soft lips and the earthy scent of her skin. He cleared his throat and backed out of the parking spot. “Mr. Diaz, this is Eli Kincaid. I’d like a different…assignment. This one isn’t going to work out. I’m sure we can come to an agreement about what I can do for you. Call me.” He hung up as he pulled onto the main road just outside the subdivision. For good measure, he fished out his lucky poker chip and closed it in his fist. “Please let this work,” he murmured.
Minutes later he checked into the Palmetto Motel, a dive a few miles outside of town. The dingy room was all he’d expected a thirty-dollar-a-night place would be—yellowed paint, 1960-style lamps and a bed that appeared to have seen more action than Ron Jeremy and John Holmes combined. Didn’t matter. He had more important things on his mind.
After a long shower with lousy water pressure, he pulled off the threadbare bedspread and sat on the bed. His cell signaled a message. He called his voicemail and listened. “That’s a good one, Kincaid,” Rodrigo said in the message. “You’re a funny guy. Unfortunately for you, this isn’t the labor pool. You don’t get to choose another job. So you’d better find what we discussed, or my associates will be paying a visit to your sister. Sven likes Atlanta. And Manny’s real handy with a paper cutter, if you catch my drift.”
“Shit!” Eli threw the phone across the bed, then paced the stained carpet. There had to be a solution. Nothing came to him, so after several minutes, he turned on his laptop and logged into his bank account. He found a phone number to call for inquiring about raising his credit limit. He’d try that in the morning. If he could give Rodrigo half or even a third of what he owed him, he prayed the old shark would cut him a break and give him more time to pay the rest. If he could secure a cash advance, maybe he could work on Sam, and talk her into selling the brooch to him. Then he’d give Rodrigo what he wanted, and Lizzy would remain safe.
One thing he knew for sure—he already cared about Sam, and he couldn’t betray her.
Chapter Five
Sam unlocked the door to Eye of Newt a few minutes before ten two days later. Instead of focusing on the endless number of white labels with difficult words on every bottle and drawer, she admired her paintings on the walls above them. Although her artwork alone wasn’t responsible for her good mood. Eli had spent hours yesterday and the day before helping her at the store. Every time the shop had emptied of customers, they’d flirted with each other and had even shared a kiss or two in the back room. Sometime today he’d come by again, or so
he’d promised yesterday. Anticipation tingled up her spine.
Granted she had a bad habit of jumping into relationships with guys, which had bitten her in the ass a few times. Yet Eli seemed different—completely opposite her usual blue-collar, tatted up kind of dude. If she was honest, though, her usual type hadn’t worked out so well for her. She’d had two relationships in the past year—each lasting only a few months. And both had left her lonelier than the previous one.
Not that she was looking for a boyfriend. Heck no. She only planned to stay in town long enough to replenish her bank account and to spend time with Aunt Emma after she returned home.
Stashing her bag under the counter, she sighed. That first day she’d been not only terrified about working at the shop by herself but also a little lonely. Eli was just what the doctor ordered for both problems. So what that she hardly knew him? Her instincts told her that Eli was completely different, more caring, and thoughtful than the other guys. Then again, her intuition had been a little off before—or more like broken beyond repair. Too bad that she didn’t have her great aunt Sunny’s intuition about people, or even Aunt Emma’s gift of divining the future.
Eli seemed so willing to help her like there was nothing he’d rather be doing. Which she was beyond grateful for. Although it had crossed her mind that he might not continue coming by every day. If he needed convincing, she could employ the methods she’d seen her mother use so many times when Sam was growing up. Like when the carnival manager had threatened to fire her after she’d overdosed on painkillers. Her mom had sat on the man’s lap and whispered in his ear—no doubt making him promises of sexual favors.
Not that Sam would sleep with Eli to get his help, but she wasn’t above a little flirtation. She’d never been much good at the subtleties of that type of behavior, and her conscience would prevent her from using him that way. In truth, she was enjoying her make-out sessions with Eli. He was an attractive guy. But she knew better than to get too used to having him around.
Gambling on the Artist Page 6
