by Cari Quinn
He eased back, though his fingers weren’t exactly gentle on my hips. “What do you mean, why? I saw it in the gallery and I wanted it. I wanted a piece of the past to remind me—”
He stopped himself for some reason. The easy smile was gone now. I curled my fingers into his shoulder. “Remind you of what?”
“Remind me that I had to work hard to get out of my shithole life. That as beautiful as glass work was, I had to find my own way.”
And it was my work that would do that? I didn’t know how that made me feel. “Phil never paid me for that work.”
“Makes you wonder what else she’s been up to.”
“How many more artists were never paid?”
Blake’s shrewd eyes bore into mine. “We might just have the missing puzzle piece to link these accounts.”
“Could she be using the gallery to…” I wiggled my fingers. The word was right there, but it sounded like it should be part of some Tuesday night procedural, not my life. “It sounds so unbelievable.”
“To launder money? It’s a time-honored tradition.”
How many other artists had been duped? Believing they’d never sold a piece only to have Phil use them to move money around.
Art was subjective. A stupid little bust could go for tens of thousands of dollars just because a curator said so. I needed to get into the computers.
There was a wealth of information that could be found if I could just get my hands on one of the iPads in the gallery.
“Christmas.” I slapped Blake’s arm. “Christmas!”
“Pardon?” Blake’s eyebrows snapped together. “It’s nearly four in the morning, Ms. Copeland. I can’t begin to follow the trail from laundering to Christmas at this hour.”
I inched back and rolled off the bed to the drawers on my side. I fished through the mail I kept in there and spotted the white and red envelope. I waved it at him. “Lady’s Cove Gallery is having its annual Christmas party for patrons and artists. That would be me and you, pal.”
“Again…you’re going to need to connect the dots.”
I crawled across his lake-sized bed and knelt in front of him. “Sorry. My inner dialogue is not playing nice with my mouth.”
“I don’t even have a response to that.”
“Phil’s entire network is based on an iPad network. If I could just smuggle one of those suckers out maybe Jack and Lucy could do that hoodoo stuff and find a connection.”
His brow smoothed, then beetled again. “It’s too dangerous.”
“This is the least dangerous move we’ve got, Blake. The party is Friday night. We go, we schmooze, we dance a little. I have this amazing red wool cape that has pockets that could fit a small child. Or in this case, an iPad.”
“And there’s no security built into them? I find that hard to believe.”
“I can’t tell you how many times I brought one of them home to work on files. The network isn’t really in Phil’s purview. She’s the schmooze, and I was the one who kept all the behind the scenes mechanics working.”
My fault.
Oh, God.
My butt lowered to cover my feet. “I should have seen it.”
He cupped my face, bringing me back up onto my knees. “No.”
I curled my fingers around his wrist. I wanted to believe him, but my head had been firmly in the sand on way too many different issues.
“You would have seen pieces sold, but did you really have anything to do with the accounting?”
“No. In fact, she made sure to have a separate person who took care of the books.”
“You couldn’t have known. That’s why she and Annabelle got away with this for as long as they did.”
I leaned into his hand. “Why would my grandmother have been in on this? That’s what I don’t understand. They barely tolerated each other.”
“Annabelle had a flair for the dramatic. Don’t you think this kind of thing would have been perfect for her? At least in the beginning. A way to be involved in all the gossip.”
There had to be more to it, and I didn’t doubt he was still sugarcoating. That was just Blake’s way of protecting me, and much as I railed against it, I knew deep down he cared.
Perhaps I mattered to him just as much as he mattered to me.
My eyes misted. “You knew her pretty well.”
He leaned in and kissed me softly. “I did. Enough to know how she could have gotten trapped in something like this.”
“Because she didn’t think it through,” I said sadly.
“The danger would have been addictive. Add in the fact that she knew my father and it makes me think he might have had something to do with it. He was a charming man. Just connected enough to be thrilling.”
He did know Annabelle too well. “It’s still wrong.”
“And why I’ve been killing myself to figure out the how and who. Something had to have happened to make your grandmother compile all this detailed information. A reason why she would have been so afraid for your life.”
A flash of my grandmother’s body sprawled across the carpet made my eyes burn again. He let me go and stood to flip the bedclothes back. I crossed my arms over my middle at the loss of his warmth.
“And now we have a way inside.”
I rolled back on my side and slid under the covers, suddenly cold. “We’ll need to talk to Jack tomorrow.”
Blake’s jaw flexed as he slid in beside me. “We both have to be up in a few hours.” He reached for the lamp, throwing the room into shadow.
“What is it about you and Jack lately?”
“It’s late, Grace.”
“Then hurry up and tell me why you get so spastic when I bring up Jack.”
“I do not get spastic.”
It was dark so he could see me roll my eyes. Seriously, rolling them hard. As if I couldn’t see what was going on between them more than half the time. “He’s my friend too, you know.”
“I’m well aware.”
I slammed my head into my pillow. “You’re ridiculous.”
He reached across the bed and pulled me against him, my back to his front. There were many a morning we ended up in this position, but it was rare for him to instigate it when we were actually awake. I curled my fingers around his forearm and smoothed my way up and down the sinewy length of muscles.
He didn’t say anything for so long that I was afraid he may have fallen asleep. “It may sound ridiculous, but I don’t trust anyone with you.”
I turned my face to him in the dark. “Not even Jack?”
“No one.”
I curled into him and pushed my cheek into the pillow. “You’re right, it sounds ridiculous.”
“I’d rather sound paranoid than lose you.”
Not much I could say to that. Especially when all the things inside me that could flutter went a little mad with stupid girly vibrations. Damn him.
“We have two days to get ready for the party. I suggest we sleep and get to planning tomorrow.”
He sounded so calm and so Blake. Part of me wanted to turn around and shake him. Maybe even slug him for good measure, but I had to admit I was tired. The adrenaline I’d been feeding off was fading.
Tomorrow was soon enough to figure out the best way to fix things.
Fourteen
Grace
I hung up the phone and spun around in Blake’s comfortable-enough-to-sleep in chair. In fact, the urge to do just that was overwhelming. Sleep had been a commodity that neither of us could afford. Between getting clients settled before everyone disappeared for the holiday and finalizing bonuses for the end of the year I’d lost track of time.
Blake hid in his workshop to pick apart the endless tangle of data from my grandmother. If we had a fleet of forensic accountants it would still take weeks. I didn’t know what he thought he was going to accomplish, but the man was worse than a terrier with a porterhouse steak.
“Ms. Copeland.”
I looked up from my boss’s desk. Actually, it was pr
etty much mine at the moment. More and more I’d been hiding inside Blake’s inner sanctum to get things done. I fumbled out of his chair. “Hi. Um, sorry. Was I supposed to meet you?” I looked down at my watch. God, how was it six already?
He closed the door and crossed the room to hang two garment bags.
“Oh, shit. It’s Friday.”
“It most certainly is.”
I crossed to him and opened the smaller bag. A garnet red dress that I’d never seen before was inside. I blinked up at him. “What’s this?”
“I realized this morning we didn’t have anything ready for you to wear at this party.”
“I have dresses,” I sputtered.
“Of course you do, but I doubt you had time to get one dry cleaned or pressed for our outing.”
No, but I could have made do. I was almost sure of it.
Blake came up behind me and reached around to pull out the dress. “It’s just easier.”
A little black bag was tied to the hanger. I unhooked it and peeked inside. Lingerie—high end stuff. How the hell had he managed to get LaPerla on such short notice?
“Since I’m your assistant, who did you have doing the shopping, buddy?”
“I have quite capable fingers and contacts, Ms. Copeland.”
I tossed the silk bag on his desk. We so weren’t going there with the fingers.
He gathered both garment bags and the small bag of unmentionables as he crossed to his secret room. He leaned into an almost imperceptible panel and suddenly the door slid open.
So that was how it worked.
“How very Bond of you, Blake.”
“The room has a shower and a bed. It’s very handy when I have to work late at night. I seem to remember mentioning it to you prior to our night of being locked into the vestibule.”
I sailed in after him. “I remember.”
The room was small, but small in the way that an apartment is in New York City. Another secret room.
The view from the room was incredible. The infinity edge from his office space ran in here as well. An unparalleled view of Boston Harbor stretched out before us. White twinkle lights had been added to the arbors along the inlet.
Various boats were decked out for Christmas as well. We were experiencing a ridiculously warm winter and people seemed to be combating that by increasing their decorations.
I actually didn’t mind. It was my first Christmas without my grandmother and it helped to see that life was going on, even if my own felt like it had been in stasis and fast forward at the same time.
I pressed my fingertips to the window and let myself soak in the cheer. A little bit of normalcy in my less than ideal world.
Blake came up behind me. “Are you all right?”
I reached behind me with my other hand to link our fingers. “We’ve been so busy and focused I didn’t have time to realize this would be my first Christmas alone.”
“You’re not alone.” His voice was low and barely above a whisper.
“No. I didn’t know this was how my year would end up when I walked into this office a few months ago.”
He brushed his lips over my temple. “You’re a miracle I never thought I’d be worthy of. I still don’t.”
My fingertips went white as I pressed them harder into the glass. What the hell could I say when he came up with stuff like that? Just when I was prepared to write him off as the least romantic soul on the planet, he came back with a comment like that.
His fingertips slipped across the band of my skirt to just above my navel. “Late at night, I’d look out on this waterway.”
“King of his castle style?”
“I never looked at it that way.”
My breath hitched when his fingers coasted lower over the silk of my blouse to the edge of my panties. “You should have.”
“By the time I had a view to be proud of, I was more alone than I’d ever been in my life. Until you.”
My skirt loosened and pooled around my ankles.
“Now, I have this view and finally someone to share it with.”
My pulse shot up. “Aren’t there cameras all over?”
“Not here. This is my one sanctuary.”
He undid the buttons of my blouse until that too hit the floor in a pile. A flood of goosebumps washed over my skin. I was in wool socks under my knee-high boots. I’d dressed in the dark and was pretty sure my bra and panties were the oldest in my stash.
I was a fail at this being a girlfriend thing. A truly sexy moment and he was getting rainbow boy short panties and a utilitarian bra. Oh yeah, all of the perfection here.
“Christ, you are beautiful.”
“You caught the mismatch college level outfit I’ve got going on right?”
I could feel the smile as he dropped a kiss on my nape. “I never got to have college aged Grace.” He cupped the cotton bra, dragging it over my breasts until my nipples were uncovered. He tweaked them lightly as the bra strap rode up my back. “Is this what you did in the dorms?”
I groaned. “I wasn’t much for hookups in school.”
“Good. Because the idea that anyone else has touched this perfect skin drives me mad. You were made for me. You fill my hands perfectly.” He cupped my breasts and rolled my nipples with just enough pressure to make me gasp. He brushed his wool clad erection across my ass. “Your pussy clasps my cock as if every inch was created to take only me.”
I let out a shaky breath and was actually thankful for the cotton panties at the moment. Because if he kept talking like that I was going to need a towel and a mop.
Just when I thought I had a handle on him, he threw me a curve ball. But then I didn’t have time to think about anything. His mouth and lips danced up my neck as he dispensed with my bra. Instead of taking off my panties, he simply moved them aside.
I went up on my toes as he tunneled two fingers inside of me. I tipped forward and my stomach plummeted at the view. Just air, water, and Blake curling his fingers across my g-spot was not how I’d seen this day going.
He blew me past foreplay into orgasm so fast that I had trouble hanging on. My lungs felt more like bellows as he ripped me from one peak to another. I didn’t know if it was from his words, or his touch, or the view.
I didn’t care.
I just let myself ride the careening train of pleasure. He replaced his fingers with his cock and my nerve endings went from burn to full on conflagration.
His breath on my neck, his hands on the glass beside mine, and the bay around us was enough to make my heart burst, but when he covered my hands and thrust inside me again and again, I careened into a tailspin of lust and love so confusing I could have been on a tilt-a-whirl.
I screamed out my release and sagged as he groaned into my neck. Just my name.
Simply my name in that ragged voice that I lived to hear.
Longing, pleasure, and pain that echoed my own.
Blake slowly moved back and the loss of our connection had me sagging against the window. Instead of leaving me alone, he swung me up into his arms.
The shower stall was little more than a closet, but he washed me thoroughly and snapped a towel out from a thin cupboard beside the stall.
He dried me off and left me with my clothes to get dressed.
I was actually thankful that he’d left me in peace. I needed a second after our little interlude.
We’d been so busy all week that he hadn’t touched me since the night in the atrium. That had been just as intense. I was pretty sure our batting average was in the minus column for actually making love in a bed.
I didn’t have much choice in hairstyles for the evening, so I clipped most of it back and let the curls go where they may down my back. I unearthed the stockings and scraps of lace he called panties and a bra. When I got a good look at the dress I realized why they were so sparse.
It was a simple dress on the hanger, but when I stepped into it, I realized that the lace bralette might be too much. The bodice of the dress hugged
me and a fine cord of silver criss crossed over the center panel over my chest. It wasn’t quite see-through, but it was damn close.
It reminded me of dresses from medieval times with a bit more sex appeal.
“Are you ready?”
I turned around and my breath caught. The last time I’d seen Blake in a tux he’d been saving me from drowning in a cove. The fine black material was cut for his body only. No off the rack for this man.
Sweet Jesus.
Impeccably cut with a classic one button style, the tux was enough to make my tongue get trapped at the roof of my mouth. “Wow.”
“I believe that should be my line, Ms. Copeland. You’re stunning.”
I looked down at the garnet fire of the material as it swished around my calves in a deceptively modest style. Garnets winked at his wrists as he shot his cuffs out. “I hoped to leave people with this as their memory of us, not sneaking away to procure an iPad for nefarious reasons.”
I grinned up at him. “Are you sure you haven’t been watching Bond flicks?”
“Quite sure.” He set a simple clutch on the couch. “I found this.”
“You found a clutch that’s the same size as a tablet?”
He shrugged. “Have credit card will find in the city. It was made to hold an iPad.”
I frowned at the stiffness of the clutch. “What’s in there?”
“Open it.”
I slid out the padded envelope with a frown. Inside was a beveled piece of Carson glass. Alone it was stunning, but the intricate etching at the center stole my breath. I’d seen plenty of monograms in my life, but nothing like this.
“It’s like the glass we used for Jimmy Calagnino.”
I lightly traced the lines of Phil’s initials. “She doesn’t deserve this.”
“No, but I figure it manufactures a way for us to distract her with a gift. It would call to her sense of vanity.”
“It does. And you’re right.”
“I had my people make it.”
I held it up to the window and shook my head at the ghostly blue hue of the etching. “When this is over we’re going to discuss the artistry angle that you’re missing in most of your jobs.”
“My company does just fine as it is, Ms. Copeland.”
