by Dana Stone
“Our gallery is small compared to others. We have a top-notch alarm system that failed to alert the police of our invasion. It’s in perfect working order, but it wasn’t tripped during the theft. The artwork stolen is valued in the thousands of dollars. This situation makes us appear inept in our safety measures. It’s up to you three to see that another theft doesn’t occur,” Cam insisted.
Mr. Syms had emailed each guard’s background check and security experience after their phone conversation. Assured of their abilities, Cam led a tour of the building. She left them to work out who would be stationed where. As she re-entered the reception area, she noticed Meredith preparing to leave and wished her a good night.
Meredith gave Cam a startled look and wished her the same before leaving by way of the front entry. Surprised at her use of the main entrance, Cam peered through the heavy glass as Meredith crossed the stone-paved grounds and rushed across the street.
A minor detail concerning the woman bugged Cam as she left the foyer for her own office. Try as she might, Cam couldn’t figure out what had been different about Meredith. Having begun the plans for an upcoming opening, Erin stared at her ideas and decided she’d had enough of the gallery and its business to last her. Hungry, disconsolate, and nerve wracked, she stacked files together, slid them into her briefcase and fled toward the rear door after notifying the guard in charge that she was leaving. On her way through the back door, Cam set the entry alarm.
* * *
Traffic was next to none as thunderous clouds dimmed daylight and promised more rain. The drive through the countryside calmed Cam as nothing else had all day. She’d slowed to turn into the wide drive and hesitated when Tristan’s car came into view. “Hell and damnation,” she muttered and swore under her breath.
Once her car was tucked safely into the garage, Cam swiftly entered the house through the rear entrance. As she rounded the hallway corner, Tristan’s voice filtered through the corridor.
“You’re sure Erin won’t be back today? After the theft at the gallery, I thought she’d return as quickly as possible.”
Mid-stride, Cam froze, then ducked into a corner under the staircase. Mrs. Hardy’s voice rang out, clear as a bell. “If Erin’s due back, she hasn’t called to say so. I spoke with her earlier today and was told not to wait supper. Can I give her a message for you?”
“In light of the robbery, I was merely wondering what her plans were concerning the opening at the Met and if she’d reconsidered my offer to buy the gallery.”
His footsteps sounded on the foyer floor as he paced. Erin peered past the corner’s edge. She watched Tristan. His back muscles were tight under the well-tailored suit jacket when he turned away. In an instant, Erin decided she’d had enough hiding and lying. She stepped into view as he glanced back at Mrs. Hardy.
“There you are, Ms. Boucher. I stopped by your office earlier and was told you were unavailable. Meredith appeared quite upset.” Tristan lifted a shoulder and said, “I suppose she would be after the robbery.”
“And you know what happened, how?” Cam asked. As suddenly as she’d decided to bare all, she’d changed her mind. If Tristan thought she was a liar, he might also think she was a thief. That wouldn’t bode well for everyone, under any circumstances.
Before she could answer, Mrs. Hardy gave Cam a wide-eyed, warning look and offered to take the briefcase from her. “I was just telling Mr. Forsyth that Erin isn’t back yet. I was unaware she’d decided to return home.”
“There’s been a theft at the gallery and Erin should be here later tonight. I spoke with her this morning. I should have called and let you know. I apologize Mrs. Hardy,” Cam said.
“Not to worry, you must have enough on your mind, Miss Cam. Have the police reported back to you?”
“Not yet.” Cam glanced at Tristan as Mrs. Hardy took her coat and briefcase from her. “I suppose the event was on the news?”
Tristan’s eyes narrowed as he took her in from head to toe. “Actually no. Meredith mentioned it when I was there mid-afternoon.”
“The gallery was locked and closed all day today. I take it Meredith let you in?” she asked.
“I refused to leave until she opened the door. I never entered the gallery. Please, don’t be angry with her.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when I speak with her tomorrow,” Cam said in a voice laced with sarcasm. It concerned her that Meredith hadn’t listened when she’d threatened to fire her for speaking of gallery affairs with Tristan. How was she supposed to maintain the upper hand if Meredith continually blabbed to him? Good grief. She sighed, and asked Mrs. Hardy for a cup of coffee.
“I can make you a snack or some supper if you’d like, Miss Cam,” Mrs. Hardy offered.
“I could use something to eat, if you’re sure you don’t mind...” Keeping the deception in place was costly, especially in the light of the circumstances at the gallery. Erin realized she was sick to death of pretending to be Cam.
“And you, Mr. Forsyth, would you care for something, too?” Mrs. Hardy asked politely.
His smile brightened the entire foyer as he agreed to the offer of a light repast. “That would be wonderful. I rarely have a home cooked meal when I’m away from Scotland. Thank you, Mrs. Hardy.”
Cam slipped off her shoes, headed into the family room and flopped onto the sofa. Her head ached, her brain and body were dog-tired, and now she had to entertain the very man she wanted to hightail it back to Scotland – and unfortunately, the man she lusted for. Crap.
He’d followed behind and watched her with a curious expression. Cam straightened up and said, “I spend so much time here, I feel at home. Since you’re staying, Tristan, please have a seat. Erin won’t mind, I’m sure.”
His pleasure evident, Cam watched him settle into the soft-cushioned chair opposite her.
“You and Erin seem to have a comfortable relationship. It isn’t usual for a business owner to allow their right hand man, or woman, to take advantage of their home and belongings. Why don’t you confess and get it over with Cam?” he asked in a sly, yet silky tone.
Oh golly, he’d guessed. Had she given herself away? How? She’d made sure to walk the walk and continue the act with confidence and certainty for so long, Cam’s character had become second nature.
“Confess to what?” Cam asked haltingly as she strived to hide her fear.
“That you and Erin are more than just employer and employee,” he said with a gleam in his eyes.
Oh, crap. He knew her secret. Shit.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Cam murmured, watching him closely. He was calm and collected now. Oh, my. Alarm swept through her, tightened her nerves and knotted her stomach.
“It’s your business, of course,” he remarked calmly.
Misunderstanding what he implied, she corrected him, “It’s Erin’s business, not mine.”
“Please, Cam, I saw you park your car in the garage. You entered the house through the rear door. No one does that unless they live here. You needn’t hide the facts any longer.”
Her mouth opened to speak but she was interrupted by Mrs. Hardy. “Would you like to eat in the kitchen, Miss Cam?”
“That’ll be fine, Mrs. Hardy. We’ll be right in,” she said as the woman turned away.
“Come on, we can finish this discussion over supper. I’m starved.” Cam walked idly through the house toward the homey kitchen. Mrs. Hardy left them to the supper she’d set out.
“I’ll be with Mrs. Stewart this evening. We’re going to the mall,” she explained. “Would you clear up after you’re finished, Cam?”
“I will. Have fun,” Cam said as Mrs. Hardy breezed from the room.
Tristan snickered. “She’s quite comfortable with your arrangement, isn’t she?”
Confused, Cam said, “She makes me a meal now and then, nothing more.”
“It isn’t necessary to keep up this charade. I won’t think any worse of you for owning up.”
“I don’t underst
and what you’re going on about. Just eat your meal,” Cam insisted, shortly.
They ate in silence until Tristan put his fork down and wiped his lips. “Tell me about the robbery.”
“Two paintings were stolen. I’ve had to explain the losses to Mr. Pimskin, since he’d lent both of them to us for a couple months.” Cam sighed. “Today hasn’t been one of my best.”
“You’ve contacted the insurance company, I presume?”
“Indeed. They were notified immediately after the police department was.” Cam sipped her coffee, and then set her napkin aside. Her appetite had disappeared as she discussed the theft. Not only was the gallery in jeopardy, its reputation had been tarnished.
Never, in all the years Cameron Gallery had been open, had they been robbed. Shame sidled alongside her fear as she wondered how Tristan had found out she was both Erin and Cam. She’d been Cam for a couple years with no one the wiser – or were they?
That whole train of thought required serious consideration later, when Tristan Forsyth wasn’t hovering over her. Distracting her with his probing questions and his good looks.
“What can I do to help you?” he asked with sincerity.
His unexpected offer left her floundering for an answer. Could she trust him not to take advantage of her? Would he appear helpful and then undermine her? These thoughts and others slithered through her mind like a snake in tall grass. Tristan Forsyth’s support could, and would, help re-establish Cameron Gallery’s reputation for fine art and its safety.
“I’m not sure. That’s Erin’s purview, really,” she uttered.
“You don’t expect me to believe that?” he demanded.
“Why not?”
“There’s more to this setup than you just running things... Admit it.”
Cam hesitated and then said, “Oh, all right. Fine. I handle it all. Okay?”
“That’s not what I want to know. Are you, or are you not...?”
Cam’s phone jingled. She glanced at the number and answered the call. “Yes?”
She listened for a moment or two and then said, “I’ll be right there. Don’t touch anything.”
“What’s happened?” Tristan asked with furrowed brows.
“I’ve got to get to the gallery right away. The guards found something.”
“It’ll be easier to take my car than get yours from the garage,” he insisted.
Unwilling to add that stress to her already-overloaded senses by insisting on going alone, Cam nodded and grabbed her coat from the hook, along with her handbag.
Chapter 8
LIGHTS GLARED ACROSS the parking lot as Tristan parked behind the gallery. Senior guard, Gill Frampton strode forward and held the door open as Cam entered, followed by Tristan.
“Ms. Boucher, when Cal conducted his tour, he noticed something out of order in the watercolor sector. If you’ll come with me?”
“We gave the place a good going over today. I didn’t find anything out of place then,” she remarked with concern.
They’d reached the huge room of watercolor paintings. Tristan softly murmured in her ear, “Couldn’t he have just told you without making this big show?”
Frampton pointed to the far corner of the room where a door stood slightly ajar. “In there,” he said and urged her forward.
He swung the door open with the tip of his flashlight. Closet lights illuminated every nook and cranny. Cam stepped inside and glanced around. With an audible gasp, she stared toward the items Frampton pointed out. Leaning against the wall, partially draped with rags and nearly covered by a crate lodged against them, were two vacant picture frames.
Stunned, Cam uttered, “What the hell.” She glanced at Tristan and then at Frampton. “These are Mr. Pimskin’s picture frames. The thief must have taken the artwork and hidden the frames in here.” Cam rubbed her throbbing temples with her fingertips. Would this freakin’ day ever end?
Yanking the phone from her pocket, Cam dialed the police department. When the officer in charge of the investigation picked up, she gave him a rundown of the find and then pressed the ‘end’ button on the phone and said, “The cops will be here momentarily. Could you let them in, Mr. Frampton?”
“Absolutely.” Frampton strode away, leaving Tristan and Cam alone.
“Come away from there, and don’t touch anything, Cam,” Tristan advised. He took her arm and led her from the storage closet.
“Erin should be notified,” Cam said.
She noticed an odd expression filter over his face.
“Right, I’ll leave you to it then.” Tristan strode in the direction Frampton had gone.
Worried that he stood just beyond the doorway to eavesdrop, Cam pretended to dial a number and held a one-sided conversation. After a few seconds, she said, “Fine, Erin. I’ll deal with it.”
She’d no sooner tucked the phone from sight when Tristan popped his head around the corner. “What did she say?”
“She’ll be here soon, but I’m to handle it until then.”
He turned away from her, but not before she caught his smirk.
“What’s that smirk for?” Cam asked sarcastically.
“Nothing, really.”
“It must have been for something, so spill it,” she demanded.
“Your denial of what’s going on here is unhealthy, Cam. Why don’t you just admit to it and get it over with?” Tristan asked in a matter-of-fact tone.
Her temper mounted and she barked, “What the hell are you talking about, Tristan?”
“Let’s be honest, shall we? You and Erin are mates,” Tristan said slyly.
“Mates? In what?”
“Don’t force me to come out and say it,” Tristan insisted.
“At the risk of sounding stupid, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You and Erin are lovers, am I right?”
“What?” The idea was so far from what she’d imagined he thought, especially after sharing those kisses, Cam offered him a blank stare before her laughter rang out, bouncing off the walls and vaulted ceiling. “Is that what you think? That I’m gay?” Cam held her sides as her laughter began anew.
“Uh... yes, that’s what I meant,” he said while uncertainty filled his voice.
Erin gasped for air. “You couldn’t be further from the truth, honestly.” On a whim, she’d decided to dispel any ideas he had of which side her sexuality was on. She remembered his invitation to the Museum. “Oh, by the way, Erin wanted me to tell you she’ll be happy to accompany you to the gala tomorrow evening.”
His eyes darkened while he listened to her laughter. “If Erin thinks she’ll change my mind about you two, she’s mistaken. Besides, I already have a date.”
Can was disappointed but hid that from him. “Fine, I’ll let her know,” Cam said as she brushed past him and greeted the police officer.
“Good evening, Ms. Boucher,” he said. “I hope I’m not interrupting something important?”
She shook her head and sobered, then asked Officer Durant to accompany her. “When making the rounds, my security people found the two frames that held the stolen artwork. I can verify them if you need me to,” Cam said to the man as she showed him the storage area.
He regarded the frames, used his cell phone to take pictures of them and then donned gloves for handling the evidence. Pointing to spots where the canvas had been crudely loosened from their frames, Durant said, “The thief must have used a sharp tool of some sort to pry the canvas from within the structure. You can see gouges here, and here,” he pointed out.
“I didn’t want to touch them, so I waited, but you’re right. It looks like a blade was used.” Cam stepped back and shook her head in disgust. It was bad enough to steal art, but to vandalize antique frames was beyond shameful.
“I’ll take these to the evidence locker. You’ll need to stop by the department tomorrow and sign the report for me,” the officer said.
“I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning. Thank you for ad
dressing this so quickly,” Cam said with a smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be in your office.”
“Reports, they’re a pain, but we have to do them all the same,” the cop complained with a slight grin. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. Good night.”
They walked to the door, passing Tristan and Frampton on the way. The officer nodded to them, greeted Frampton like an old pal, and then took his leave.
Within moments, Cam and Tristan drove from the lot.
“Can I drop you at your place?” Tristan asked.
“My car is at Erin’s, along with my briefcase. Take me there, if you would,” Cam answered.
Silence pervaded the Jaguar’s close quarters as Tristan drove through the countryside. Darkness had fallen, accompanied by a misty rain. Upon arrival, Cam left the car with her thanks for the ride.
She climbed the stairs and heard Tristan yell, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
When Cam would have refuted his words, she found he’d closed the car window and was headed down the drive toward the gates. She stood on the top step watching the car move out of sight.
Doubt clouded her mind, her vision, and fogged her very being. Had she heard him right? Did he think she’d be at the gala? With a weary sigh, Cam unlocked the door and let herself in. On her way through the foyer, she hitched her coat onto a hanger in the hall closet and stumbled up the stairs.
* * *
His hands moved over her skin, kneading it gently while making their way over her legs ever moving upward. Erin spread her legs and felt him touch her, gently sinking his fingers into her wetness. She shivered with anticipation. Her body shook as his thumb massaged her sweet spot. She climaxed. Tristan’s lips replaced his fingers. Erin arched her hips when his tongue entered her velvety softness. He moved over her and slid his hard dick into her, riding her slowly at first, before slamming her body with force as he brought her pleasure to an all-time high.
Wide awake now, Erin breathed heavy and rubbed her moist sweet spot. Hell, the dream had awakened her from a deep sleep, increasing her need for him. This had become a habit of late. This dream had taken things a step further. Erin had to catch this billionaire – if only for a full night of sexual pleasure – before she went crazy. Otherwise, she’d never get him out of her mind or her system.
