The Fiancée Caper
Page 16
“Gianni.” His name was a whispered hush as if a part of her were afraid of saying it too loudly in case her voice might shatter the illusion in front of her.
He looked amazing in a charcoal-gray suit with a deep blue tie. His hair was stylishly cut and the scent of him reached for her until she had to grab hold of the door frame to keep from leaping at him. He looked amazing and she knew she looked wrung out by the heat. She wore a white tank top, red shorts and she was barefoot. Oh, yes. This was fair.
“Thank you,” he finally quipped when she didn’t speak again. “I will come in.”
He walked past her into the tiny space and Marie turned to see her apartment through his eyes. Of course, she could fit her whole place into one of the guest bedrooms in his London flat. But it was cozy and it was hers. A love seat and chair, both covered in floral fabric, were the only seating options—and both were more comfortable than anything in his place—and there was a narrow table in front of them. A few feet away was the kitchen table—also narrow—with two chairs. The kitchen was tiny, the bathroom even smaller and her bedroom was only big enough for a twin-sized bed.
But she’d made it homey and comfortable and if it wasn’t so blasted hot in there at the moment, she’d be very proud of her home. “What’re you doing here?”
He looked at her over his shoulder as he examined the kitchen area. “We have unfinished business.”
“We do?”
Glancing down at the classified pages, he shook his head, then looked to her again. “You don’t need a new job, Marie. You could have your old one back now if you wanted.”
Confused, she just watched as he walked toward her and pulled a velvet bag from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. She held her breath as he untied the neck of the bag, then bent down and spilled the contents onto her coffee table.
The Contessa glittered at her in the sunlight, each diamond winking brightly, catching the sun and shooting rainbows all around the room as if in celebration.
“Oh, my God. You did it.” Marie looked from the necklace to him. “What did you do?”
He shrugged. “I went to Monaco and retrieved the necklace from Jean Luc.” Gianni snorted. “He didn’t even have a safe. It was simply stuffed into a drawer in his bedroom. Pitiful, really. Anyway, I wanted you to have the necklace—to salvage the reputation that is so important to you.”
Her reputation was important to her. For years, it had been all she had. But Gianni meant even more to her. While she was grateful for what he’d done, a part of her also wanted to shriek. “You shouldn’t have, Gianni. You might have been caught. Gone to prison.”
“I’m only caught when I want to be,” he told her, his gaze boring into hers.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ll tell you after you answer a question.” He studied her even as he reached up to loosen his tie and then his shirt collar. Frowning, he said, “It is like a fire in here.”
“Air conditioner broke again.”
Shrugging out of his jacket, he tossed it onto the chair beside him. “No matter. The question is, do you want your old job at the Wainwright, Marie? The Contessa’s return would ensure that for you.”
She wasn’t as sure as he was about that. Even returning the necklace might not win her back a job that had by now been given to someone else. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, either. “No, I don’t want that job anymore. Being able to return Abigail’s necklace feels wonderful and thank you for that, even though I didn’t ask you to and you shouldn’t have done it.”
One eyebrow quirked. “So very gracious. How I’ve missed it.”
Marie frowned. “Anyway, traveling through Europe sort of changed things for me. I want...adventure in my life, I guess. So no, I won’t be going back to my old job.”
“Good to know,” he said, scowling furiously as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled back the sleeves of his shirt. “It is rovente in here—scorching hot. Can you not open a window?”
“The windows are open.”
“Santa Madre,” he muttered, clearly astonished.
“Welcome to summer in the city.” Marie crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him. “So, I answered your question. Now you answer mine. What did you mean you’re only caught when you want to be?”
“I mean,” he said, reaching out to grab her upper arms and pull her in close, “you are the one who caught me. And I wanted you to.”
“You did?” Marie’s heart overflowed in an instant and tears spilled from the corners of her eyes.
His thumbs gently brushed her tears away and a soft smile turned the corners of his mouth up. “No crying, cara. It cuts at me to see a strong woman cry.”
She chewed at her bottom lip, took a breath and fought for control. When she thought she had it she asked, “What are you trying to say, Gianni?”
“I’m trying to tell you adventure is out there to be had. To be shared. By us. Together. I have missed you, cara.” He dropped a hard, fast kiss on her mouth. “I want you to marry me. Let Teresa throw us a wedding on Tesoro. Move to London with me—help me do something with that awful furniture.”
Marie laughed unsteadily. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Was this another dream?
“And, if you must be a police officer,” Gianni was saying, “I have friends now in Interpol. We could work together....”
Marie was shaking, trembling from head to toe. She was happy and confused all at once. She’d convinced herself that never seeing Gianni again was the right thing to do and now she couldn’t remember why. He was standing here in front of her, offering her the world and the chance to see it by his side. But he still hadn’t given her the words she most needed to hear.
“Still no answer,” he said to himself, then added, “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you speechless. I don’t think I like it. So, perhaps this will convince you to speak to me...I love you, Marie O’Hara, daughter and granddaughter of policemen.”
“Oh, my.” She laughed and lifted one hand to her mouth to try to stifle the sound.
“I love you so much,” he continued with a sigh, “that I returned your temporary engagement ring to the woman I stole it from.”
“You did?” A wide, delighted smile creased her face. He’d given up the trophy he had held on to for years. And he’d done it for her. “Oh, Gianni.”
“Don’t look at me as if I’m a hero,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t deliver it personally. I sent it express post and made her sign for it so that I know it was delivered.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” she whispered, still smiling.
“Believe me, neither could Paulo.” He winked. “But it was important to you and so it became important to me.”
“Gianni—”
“I am not finished yet, woman,” he said, a half smile touching his mouth briefly. “First you are speechless, then you interrupt. Soon it will be your turn. I’ve brought you this.” He reached into his pocket again and this time took out a small deep red box.
Marie’s fluttering heart jolted to a stop. She wouldn’t have been surprised to simply keel over. But somehow she managed to keep her feet under her.
“This is what you’ve brought me to,” he told her wryly. “I bought this ring especially for you. And paid for it. It was a rare experience.”
She laughed again. God, how she’d missed laughter the last couple of weeks. Being with Gianni had made her feel more alive every moment and now that he was here again, it was as if she’d woken up from a prolonged coma or something.
“When I saw this ring in the jeweler’s window in Mayfair, I knew it was meant to be yours.” He opened the box. “The emerald is the exact shade of your eyes. And, it is the same size as the diamond that was so sadly returned....”
Marie’s breath caught.
She looked from that beautiful ring to Gianni’s gorgeous eyes, shining at her with more love and emotion than she’d ever seen before and she knew that she’d been given a gift. For whatever reason, the universe at large had given her a second chance at the love of a lifetime and she wouldn’t let it go this time.
Sliding that ring onto her finger, Gianni said, “Marry me, Marie. Be my lover. My friend. Come home with me and build a family. Without you, I am nothing.”
“Gianni, I’ve missed you so much.” She went up onto her toes to kiss him and when she was finished, she said, “I love you, too. I think I have right from that first night in your apartment.”
He grinned. “On our first anniversary, you must lie on the floor in that short skirt again....” He sighed dramatically and slapped one hand to his heart. “I was lost from the moment I saw your beautiful legs sticking out from under my bed.”
Marie laughed and leaped at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on as if she’d never let him go. Gianni’s arms came around her middle and he spun her in a tight circle. When he pulled back to look into her eyes, he said, “I would like nothing more than to take you to bed, my love. But not in this sauna. Shall we go to my hotel?”
“Where are you staying?”
“The Waldorf,” he said with a casual ease that had Marie’s eyes narrowing suspiciously.
She kept her gaze on him. “I happen to know the Waldorf Astoria has an excellent security system....”
He only smiled. “As I keep telling you, cara, I am a former thief.”
Shaking her head, Marie looked up at the man she loved and grinned. “The cop and the thief. Two sides of one coin.”
“It’s practically poetic,” he agreed, then kissed her once more. “Besides, I may be the thief, but you, cara, stole my heart.”
* * * * *
If you loved THE FIANCÉE CAPER, pick up Melinda and Sean’s story
THE TEMPORARY MRS. KING
and Rico and Teresa’s story
HER RETURN TO KING’S BED
Available now from USA TODAY bestselling author Maureen Child and Harlequin Desire!
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Ten years ago one devastating night changed everything for Austin, Hunter and Alex. Now they must each play their part in the revenge against the one man who ruined it all.
Austin Treffen has the plan… Hunter has the money… Alex has the power!
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One
The Robin Hoods of this world were Becca’s heroes. As she watched Jack Reed strike a noble pose then draw back and release an arrow that hit dead center of his target, the irony wasn’t lost on her.
Jack Reed was no Robin Hood. He was anathema to everything she stood for. To every living, breathing thing she believed in. Beyond all else, people ought to give back—even sacrifice—to support others who need help. Some mistook that level of compassion for weakness, but Becca was far from easy prey.
Looking GQ-hot in jeans and a white button-down, cuffs folded back on strong forearms, Reed lowered the bow and focused on his guest. The slant of his mouth was so subtle and self-assured, Becca’s palm itched to slap the smirk off his face. She might have done it, too, if she thought it’d shake him up some. But it was said displays of true emotion only amused him.
Jack Reed owned a property in his hometown of Cheyenne, Wyoming, as well as two residences here in L.A.: an ultramodern penthouse apartment in a downtown high-rise building that he’d purchased as well as this spectacular Beverly Hills estate. With a quiver slung across his broad back, he sauntered over the manicured lawn to meet her. Although he was expecting her visit, Becca doubted he would welcome what she had to say.
She introduced herself. “Becca Stevens, director of the Lassiter Charity Foundation.” She nodded at the target. “A perfect bull’s-eye. Well done.”
“I took up archery in college,” he said in a voice so deep and darkly honeyed, the tone was almost hypnotic. “I try to squeeze some practice in every week.”
“Difficult with your schedule, I imagine.” All that dismantling of companies and banking the proceeds had to take up oodles of time. “I appreciate you seeing me.”
His smile, designed to disarm, got bigger. “Any friend of J.D.’s is a friend of mine.”
“If J. D. Lassiter were alive, he might not count you as a friend at the moment.”
The smile widened more. “Straight for the jugular, Ms. Stevens?”
Given Jack Reed was a highly successful corporate raider, he ought to be used to the approach. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”
“I only want to help Angelica Lassiter reclaim what she rightly deserves.”
Becca let out a humorless laugh and then sighed. “Ah, sorry. Just the idea of someone like you being in any way self-sacrificing...”
His gaze sharpened. “Angelica was J.D.’s only child.”
“You’re forgetting Sage and Dylan.”
“They are Ellie Lassiter’s orphaned nephews, adopted after J.D. and Ellie had been told by doctors—”
“I know the background, Jack.”
“Then you’ll also know that Angelica, J.D.’s own flesh and blood, was his favorite—that he’d entrusted her with the running of Lassiter Media those crucial months before his death. It makes no sense that his will should insult her with a paltry ten percent while controlling voting interest of J.D.’s multibillion-dollar company goes to Angelica’s ex-fiancé—” Jack paused for effect “—even if J.D. had handpicked Evan McCain for his daughter.”
“J.D. might have liked Evan for a son-in-law. No one would argue he has remarkable business sense.” Becca joined Jack as he headed off toward his target. “But Angelica trusted Evan. They fell in love.”
“Betrayed by the man she was ready to marry. Tragic, wouldn’t you say?”
Oh, please. “Evan had nothing to do with J.D.’s will.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But nothing stops him from reinstating to Angelica what should be hers now. He could do the decent thing by the woman he professes to love.” Jack’s lips twitched. “I don’t know how he sleeps at night.”
An image flashed into Becca’s mind—Jack Reed lying butt naked on a rumpled sheet, fingers thatched behind his head, an unmistakable thirst reflecting in the depths of his glittering onyx eyes. Nerve endings ignited and flashed over he
r skin. The tingle raced through to her core, all the way down to her toes.
Reed was an attractive man; she would go so far as to say he was exceptional. If half of what the tabloids published was true, hoards of women had surrendered to the drugging heat she felt radiating off him now. The effect was gripping—beguiling—and, in Becca’s case, about as welcome as boiling water on a third-degree burn.
As they continued to walk, she tried to stay focused.
“I’m here to implore you, in J.D.’s memory, to show some human decency. Walk away from this. After her father’s death, Angelica’s in no shape to link arms with the likes of you.”
“Don’t underestimate Angelica.” His classically chiseled profile hardened as his chin lifted a notch. “She’s stronger than you think.”
“Right now, she’s desperate.”
He laughed, a somehow soothing and yet cynical sound. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you, Becca?”
No time. “You own an interest in Lassiter Media and rumors are rife. People are bracing for a hostile takeover bid. The charity’s donations are down. Regular beneficiaries are actually looking at other options. Want to guess why?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
Damn right she would. “The name Jack Reed means trouble—the kind of trouble clear-minded people run a mile to avoid.”
He blinked slowly and grinned as if the description was something to savor. “As long as Angelica wants my help, I’ll give it.”
“You sought her out,” she reminded him, “not the other way around.”
“Your point?”
Her heart was pounding in her ears. No one wanted to make an enemy of this man, but Becca had a principle to defend. A fight to win. Hell, she’d faced worse situations than this and survived.