Hot Rocks

by Nora Roberts

  “You bought me chicken.”

  “Not only, but the makings for hot fudge sundaes.” He lifted the two bags. “I thought about shrimp cocktail and pizza, but figured we’d both be sick. So just the Colonel and ice cream for you tonight.”

  She set the shopping bag down, threw her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth to his.

  “I can hit up the Colonel every night,” he said when he could manage it.

  “It’s those secret herbs and spices. They get me every time. I decided I love you.”

  She watched the emotion swirl into his eyes. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go tell Henry.”

  Henry seemed more interested in the chicken, but settled for a quick wrestle and a giant Milk-Bone biscuit while Laine set the table.

  “You can eat that sort of thing on paper towels,” Max told her.

  “Not in this house.”

  She fancied it up in a way he found sweet and feminine. Her colorful plates turned the fast-food chicken and tubs of coleslaw into a tidy celebration.

  They had wine and candles and extra-crispy.

  “Would you like to know why I decided I love you?” She waited, enjoying the meal, watching him enjoy it.

  “Because I’m so handsome and charming?”

  “That’s why I decided to sleep with you.” She cleared the plates. “I decided I might love you because you made me laugh, and you were kind and clever and because when I played the next-month game, you were still there.”

  “The next-month game?”

  “I’ll explain that later. But I decided I must love you when I started to do something by myself, and stopped. Didn’t want to do it by myself. I wanted to do it with you, because when two people make one couple, they do important things, and little things, together. But before I explain all that, I’ve got a present for you.”

  “No kidding?”

  “No, I take presents very seriously.” She took the first wrapped item out of her bag. “It’s a favorite of mine, so I hope you like it.”

  Curious, he ripped the protective brown paper off, then broke into a huge grin. “You’re not going to believe this.”

  “You have it already?”

  “Nope. My mother does. Happens it’s one of her favorites, too.”

  It pleased her to hear it. “I imagine she was fond of Maxfield Parrish’s work or she wouldn’t have named her son after the artist.”

  “She has a few of his prints. This one’s in her sitting room. What’s it called again?”

  “Lady Violetta About to Make Tarts,” Laine told him as they both studied the framed print of a pretty woman standing in front of a chest and holding a small silver pitcher.

  “She’s pretty hot. Looks a little like you.”

  “She does not.”

  “She’s got red hair.”

  “That’s not red.” Laine tapped a finger against the model’s reddish-gold hair, then tugged a lock of her own. “This is red.”

  “Either way, I’m going to think of you every time I look at her. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” She took the picture from him and laid it on the kitchen counter. “All right, now for the explanation as to why I decided I was in love with you and decided to give you a present to commemorate it. This couple in my shop today,” she continued as she set the shopping bag on the table. “Upper class, second- or third-generation money. Not wealthy but rich. They worked as a team, and I admire that. The signals, the rhythm. I like that. I want that.”

  “I’ll give you that.”

  “I think you will.” She lifted the package out of the bag, retrieved scissors and went patiently to work on the wrap.

  “While they were in the shop, buying some nice glassware, a gorgeous display table and a very unique chess table, the wife part of the team spotted this other piece. Completely not her style, let me tell you. But apparently her sister’s. She got all excited, brought it to the counter while I was ringing up. She wanted it, but it wasn’t priced. I hadn’t priced it because I’d never seen it before.”

  She saw the jolt of understanding run over his face. “Christ, Laine, you found the pooch.”

  She set the unwrapped statue on the table. “Sure looks like it.”

  CHAPTER 12

  He picked it up to examine it, just as she had. Shook it, just as she had.

  “It looks like an ordinary, somewhat tacky, inexpensive ceramic dog.” Laine gave it a quick tap with her fingers. “And just screams Big Jack O’Hara to me.”

  “You’d know.” He hefted it, as if checking weight while he looked at her. “You didn’t just bust it open and see for yourself.”

  “No.”

  “Big points for you.”

  “Major, but if we stand here discussing it much longer I’m going to crack, scream like a maniac and smash it into lots of doggie pieces.”

  “Then let’s try this.” Even as she opened her mouth to protest, he smacked the statue smartly on the table. Its winsome head rolled off so that the big painted eyes stared up in mute accusation.

  “Well.” All Laine could do was huff out a breath. “I thought we might do that with a little more ceremony.”

  “Quick is more humane.” He dipped his fingers into the jagged opening and tugged. “Padding,” he said and had her wincing as he smashed the body on the table.

  “I have a hammer in the mudroom.”

  “Uh-huh.” He unwrapped the layers of cotton, pulled out the small pouch. “I just bet this is a lot more upscale than anything I ever got out of a cereal box. Here.” He handed her the jewelry pouch. “You do this part.”

  “And major points right back at you.”

  The buzz was there, that hum in the blood she knew came as much from holding something that belonged to someone else as it did from discovery. Once a thief, she thought. You could stop stealing, but you never forgot the thrill.

  She untied the cord, pulled open the gathered top and poured a glittering rain of diamonds into her open palm.

  She made a sound. Not unlike, Max noted, the one she made when he brought her to orgasm. And her eyes, when they lifted to his, were just a bit blurry. “Look how big and shiny,” she murmured. “Don’t they make you just want to run out and dance naked under the moon?” When he lifted an eyebrow, she shrugged. “Okay, just me then. You’d better take them.”

  “I would, but you’ve got them clutched in your fist, and I’d rather not have to break your fingers.”

  “Oh, sorry. Obviously, I still have to work on my recovery. Ha ha. Hand doesn’t want to open.” She pried her fingers into a loose curl and let the diamonds drip out into Max’s open palm. When he continued to stare at her with that lifted brow, she laughed and let the last stone drop.

  “Just seeing if you were paying attention.”

  “This is a new aspect of you, Laine. Something must be a little twisted in me because I like it. Maybe you could clean this mess up. I’ve got to go get a couple things.”

  “You’re taking them with you?”

  He glanced back at the doorway. “Safer for both of us that way.”

  “Just so you know,” she called after him, “I counted them, too.”

  She heard him laugh and felt another click inside her. Somehow fate had tossed her the man who was perfect for her. Honest, but flexible enough not to be shocked or appalled by certain urges that still snuck up on her. Reliable, with a flicker of the dangerous about him to spice it up.

  She could make this work, she mused as she swept the broken shards into the center of the newspaper. They could make this work.

  He came back in, saw she’d put the dog’s head on a lace-edged napkin, like a centerpiece. After a double take, he snickered.

  “You’re a strange and unpredictable woman, Laine. That sure suits me.”

  “Funny, I was thinking the same about you, except for the woman part. What’ve you got there?”

  “Files, tools.” He set the file folder down, opened it to a detailed descriptio
n of the missing diamonds. Sitting, he took out a jeweler’s loupe and a gem scale.

  “You know what you’re doing with those?”

  “Take a case, do your homework. So, yeah, I know what I’m doing with them. Let’s take a look.”

  He spread the diamonds on the pouch, selected one. “It’s eye-clean.” He held it up. “No inclusions or blemishes visible to my naked eye. How about yours?”

  “Looks perfect.”

  “This one’s a full-cut, weighing . . .” He laid it on the scale, calculating. “Whew, a whopping sixteen hundred milligrams.”

  “Eight gorgeous carats.” She sighed. “I know a little about diamonds myself, and about math.”

  “Okay, closer look.” Using a small pair of tongs, he lifted the stone and studied it with the loupe. “No blemishes, no clouds or inclusions. Terrific brilliance and fire. Top of the sparkle chart.”

  He set it to the side, on a small scrap of velvet he’d brought down with him. “I can cross the eight-carat, full-cut, Russian white off my list.”

  “It would certainly make a wonderful engagement ring. A little over the top, and yet, who cares?” His expression, one of mild horror mixed with hopeful amusement, made her laugh. “Just kidding. Sort of. I’m going to pour us some wine.”

  “Great.”

  He chose another diamond, repeated the routine. “So, does this talk about engagement rings mean you’re going to marry me?”

  She set a glass of wine by his elbow. “That’s my intention.”

  “And you strike me as a woman who follows through on her intentions.”

  “You’re a perceptive man, Max.” Sipping her own wine, she ran a hand over his hair. “Just FYI, I prefer the square-cut.” Leaning down, she brushed her lips over his. “A nice clean, uncluttered look, platinum setting.”

  “So noted. Should be able to afford one considering the finder’s fee on these little babies.”

  “Half the finder’s fee,” she reminded him.

  He gave her hair a tug to bring her mouth back to his. “I love you, Laine. I love every damn thing about you.”

  “There are a lot of damn things about me, too.” She sat beside him while he worked. “I should be scared to death. I should be racked with nerves over what’s happening between you and me. I should be terrified knowing what it means to have those pretty shiny rocks on my kitchen table, aware that someone’s already been inside my house looking for them. And could come back. I should be worried sick about my father—what he’ll do, what Crew will do to him if he finds him.”

  She took a contemplative sip of wine. “And I am. Under here,” she said, with a hand on her heart. “All those things are going on under here, but over it, and through it, I’m so happy. I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life, or expected to be. The worry, the nerves, even the fear can’t quite outweigh that.”

  “Baby, I’m a hell of a catch. Nothing for you to be nervous about on that score.”

  “Really? Why hasn’t anybody caught you before?”

  “None of them were you. Next, whoever—and we’ll assume it was Crew—broke in, tore the place up looking for these didn’t find them here. Not much sense in coming back to go over the same ground. Last, your father’s managed to land on his feet all his life. I bet he’s still got his balance and agility.”

  “I appreciate the logic and common sense.”

  She didn’t look like she was buying any. He considered showing her the snub-nosed .38 strapped to his ankle, but wasn’t sure if it would reassure her or scare her.

  “You know what we’ve got here, Ms. Tavish?”

  “What have we got here?”

  “Just over seven million—or one quarter of twenty-eight point four million in diamonds—almost to the carat.”

  “Seven point one million.” She said it in a reverent whisper. “On my kitchen table. I’m sitting here, looking at them, and still I can’t really believe he pulled it off. He always said he would. ‘Lainie, one day, one fine day, I’m going to make the big score.’ I swear, Max, most times he said it he was just conning himself. And now look at this.”

  She picked up a stone, let it sparkle in her hand. “All his life, he wanted that one, big, glittery take. He and Willy must’ve had the best time.” She let out a breath, set the stone back with the others. “Okay, reality check. The sooner those are out of my house and back where they belong, the better.”

  “I’m going to contact my client, make arrangements.”

  “You’ll have to go back to New York?”

  “No.” He reached for her hand. “I’m not leaving. We finish this out. Three-quarters of the pie is still out there. Where would your father go, Laine?”

  “I don’t know. I swear to you I don’t have a clue. I don’t know his habits and haunts anymore. I cut myself off from him because I wanted so much to be respectable. And still . . . God I’m such a hypocrite.”

  She rubbed her hands over her face, dragged them back into her hair. “I took money from him. Through college, a little here, a little there. There’d be an envelope stuffed with cash in my mailbox, or now and then a cashier’s check made out to me. And after I graduated, too. A little wind-fall out of the blue, which I dutifully banked or invested. So I could buy this house, start my business. I took it. I knew it wasn’t from the goddamn tooth fairy. I knew he’d stolen it or bilked someone out of it, but I took it.”

  “You want me to blame you for that?”

  “I wanted to be respectable,” she repeated. “But I took the money to build that respectability. Max, I wouldn’t use his name, but I used the money.”

  “And you rationalized it and justified it. I could do the same. But let’s just cut through all that and agree that it’s a very shaky area. Let’s agree you don’t take it anymore, and make it clear to him the next time you see him.”

  “If I had a dollar for every time I tried to make it clear to him. Oh, that’s right. I do. But I’ll make it stick this time. I promise. Do me one favor?”

  “Just ask.”

  “Put those away somewhere and don’t tell me where. I don’t want him coming back and talking me into giving them to him. It’s not out of the realm.”

  Max slid the stones back into the pouch, tucked it in his pocket. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I want to help you get the rest of them. I want that for a few reasons. One, I guess it’ll go a ways toward easing my conscience. Two, and more important, it’s just the right thing to do. More important than that, I hope that recovering them, getting them back where they belong will protect my father. I couldn’t stand for him to be hurt. And somewhere between the conscience and the right thing lies the two-and-a-half-percent finder’s fee.”

  He took her hand and kissed it. “You know, you may have bought that respectability, but you must’ve been born with that style. I’ve got a few things to see to. Maybe you can see about warming up that fudge.”

  “If I wait a bit, both of us get our evening chores done, we could have those sundaes in bed with extra whipped cream.”

  “I believe I might just be the luckiest man alive at this point in time.” His cell phone beeped, making Laine chuckle when she heard the digitized opening riff of “Satisfaction.”

  “Hold that thought,” he said, and answered. “Gannon.” His face broke into a wide grin. “Hey, Mama.”

  Since he leaned against the stove instead of heading out of the room for privacy, Laine started to ease out. But he grabbed her hand, pulled her back.

  “So, you liked the glasses. That makes me the good son, right? Your favorite.” He scowled, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could keep a hand on Laine and reach for his wine. “I don’t think it’s fair to put your grandchildren in the mix. It’s not like Luke went out specially and picked them out to suit you. Stay,” he said in a hushed aside to Laine, then transferred the phone to his other hand when he released her.

  “Yeah, I’m still in Maryland. On a job, Mama.” He paused, li
stening, while Laine puttered around the kitchen looking for something to do. “No, I don’t get tired of hotels and eating in restaurants. No, I’m not sitting here chained to my nasty computer and working too hard. What am I doing? Actually, I’m two-timing you