by Jo Leigh
IT TOOK LONGER THAN she would have liked to reach the potted palm trees that were clumped near Evan’s table. They’d made it there without attracting any notice from the men at the table, but that was when her luck had run out. The band was playing close by, making it difficult to hear anything.
Evan was the only one she had a full view of through the palm leaves. He looked nervous. She could see Jean Claude and H in profile, and Butch’s back was to her.
She breathed a sigh of relief as the band ended a piece. But Gari showed up just then to serve champagne. He uncorked the bottle, offered it to Jean Claude to taste and then filled four glasses. No one spoke during the ritual, and Jean Claude was the only one who drank champagne. By that time, the band had begun the next song, and the woman drummer took a solo.
As the sound built in speed and volume, it stirred something primitive in her—probably due to the fact that Cole had crouched right behind her. His body was pressed so tightly against hers that she could feel each breath he took in and let out. They hadn’t been this close on the dance floor, and she was powerless to block out the sensations. His chest felt hard against her bare back, and his arms were around her. The sarong wasn’t helping a bit. When she’d dropped to her knees, the slit on the one side had widened, and Cole’s hand was resting on her exposed thigh. She could feel the imprint of each one of his fingers. To say that he was interfering with her concentration was putting it mildly.
The one thing she’d decided was that the four men were not enjoying each other’s company. The Frenchman pushed a folded piece of paper across the table toward Butch.
Just then the drum solo ended, and there was a moment of silence before the crowd broke into applause. None of the men at the table clapped. By the time the clapping died down, Butch and H had risen, turned and walked away.
Evan frowned at Jean Claude. “You’re making a mistake.”
Jean Claude placed his hand over Evan’s. “You’ll see. I’m more experienced at this than you are. He’ll come around when we meet in the morning at nine.”
“How can you know that?”
“I’ve done my homework. Castellano’s an astute businessman. He’s not going to give an inch this early in the game. But in the morning, he’ll make a counteroffer.”
“But we’re running out of time.”
“No, we’re not. Drink your champagne. We’ve come too far not to get the best possible price, and Castellano’s pockets are deep.” He patted Evan’s hand. “In the meantime, we may as well enjoy the amenities of the island. They’re serving a late supper in the dining room in honor of Valentine’s Day. I heard that the menu is exquisite, so I made us a reservation.”
Pepper could see some of the anxiety fade from Evan’s face. “Yes. All right.” It occurred to her that Evan was bowing to his friend’s advice and wishes the same way he’d always bowed to his mother’s.
Cole hunkered even closer, pushing her down as the two men rose and walked away. A few moments ticked by before he rose and helped her up. Then he began to draw her in the opposite direction.
Pepper dug in her heels. “Wait.” She circled around the palms and using only two fingers on the very lip of the champagne glass, she plucked it from the table.
Cole didn’t comment. He merely took her free hand, and drew her with him around the far end of the pool until they reached their table.
“We didn’t learn much, did we?” Pepper asked as she placed the glass on the table and sat back down in her chair.
“Tell me what you noticed,” Cole said.
“Evan is nervous. And the Frenchman is older-looking without the beret. Plus, he seems to be in charge.”
“What else?”
“There’s clearly some kind of negotiation going on between Evan and Jean Claude and Butch. The folded paper might have been a price or a bid on something, and Butch didn’t accept it. But Jean Claude is convinced that Butch will change his mind by morning.” Warming to her theme, she leaned toward him. “Evan is just going along with everything.”
“You think Jean Claude is calling the shots?”
Pepper nodded. “Definitely. And he’s giving off very bad vibes. And…I’m becoming more and more convinced that he has the Monet. Go ahead. Tell me that we don’t have positive proof of that and that Irene could still have it.”
“I could tell you all that, but I think your first scenario is more likely.”
“Yeah. I wish I knew what to do about it.”
“You want to go to Butch and tell him everything?”
She studied him for a moment. “That’s what you’d do. Right?”
He nodded.
She thought for a minute. “No. We have until 9:00 a.m. to warn Butch that he might be purchasing a stolen Monet. I want to give my aunt at least that long to get here.”
“Okay. In the meantime, we have a nice set of Jean Claude’s fingerprints.” He pointed at the glass. “What do you want to bet that Luke will have some luck with them?”
She lifted her hands and displayed her crossed fingers.
“Nice move taking that glass, by the way. And your idea of eavesdropping was productive too.”
She felt a ribbon of warmth move through her, sweet and steady. And she knew that she was blushing again. “Thanks. I can lift the prints if we can get some scotch tape. Lesson number sixteen in PI class. And we can fax them to Luke, right?”
“You’re amazing,” Cole said. “Let’s get right on it because I have other plans for the rest of the evening.”
12
Friday, February 13—11:00 p.m.
“ANGELO HASN’T CHECKED in for over an hour,” Butch said as he joined H at the one-way glass that looked out on the lobby.
“There’s a lot of water between here and Eden Island. You told him not to call until he’d searched every inch of it again,” H said in a mild tone. “Plus, it’s been dark for over an hour. I don’t imagine he’s having an easy time locating that raft.”
Butch ran a hand through his hair. There was nothing to worry about. Angelo had spotted the raft about halfway between the two islands shortly before it had become dark. But before he could get within shouting distance, darkness had fallen. Even with a full moon, Angelo’s job was a tough one. Butch glanced at his watch. “She should be here by now.”
“Relax. The weather is good. And remember, she’s with someone who raced in the America’s Cup.”
Butch grunted. “Yeah. That has me wanting to dance a little jig.”
“Do you want me to tell Ms. Rossi that her aunt has rented a boat and is on her way?”
Butch shook his head. “Yeah. But don’t tell her it’s a raft and we’ve lost track of it. There’s no need to worry her. I’m worrying enough for the whole damn Rossi family.”
As H dialed Cole’s number and delivered the message, Butch pulled out a cigar, but just as he was about to stick it between his teeth, he extended his hand and stared at it. “Dammit. I haven’t been able to enjoy one of these since I learned Renie had booked a room here. And now she’s off in a boat with some sailor she picked up on an island that runs a damn sex camp.”
He waved a hand at the lobby. “This should be a night for celebrating. The main restaurant has been booked for two seatings. The lobby bar is packed. Couples are dancing on the veranda, and the dance floor at the poolside café is full. The weekend is going even better than we’d expected. Finalizing that deal with Evan Atwell will be the icing on the cake. And I’m not enjoying any of it.”
H said nothing.
“Don’t you dare say it.” Butch pointed a finger at him.
“I’m not.”
For a moment the silence stretched.
Finally Butch said, “Okay, I’ll say it. Maybe I was wrong about Renie and me.”
H said nothing.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “When she gets here I’ll tell her, and we’ll settle this thing once and for all.”
H glanced at Butch. “Remember, I have those videotape
s of her TV show in San Francisco—if you’re interested.”
Butch’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“In any negotiation, it’s a good idea to know everything you can about the other party,” H commented.
Butch thought for another minute, then nodded. “Maybe you’re right. Speaking of knowing the other party, have you been able to dig up something on Jean Claude Rambeau?”
H shook his head. “There is no such animal. At least not someone who meets Frenchy’s description.”
“He’s using an alias?”
“That would be my guess,” H said.
“Why?”
“Precisely.”
“Shit. If that’s the case, you might have more luck tracing fingerprints. I should have thought about that sooner. We could have had Gari bring us the glass he used at the pool.”
“I requested Gari to do just that, but Mr. Rambeau was a step ahead of us. The glass wasn’t there when Gari went back to the table. Fortunately, I have the slip of paper he gave you.”
Butch took his cigar out and then shoved it back in his pocket. “Dammit. I haven’t been thinking straight all day. That woman has my brain going into a complete meltdown.”
Just then Butch squinted and moved closer to the glass. Cole Buchanan and Pepper Rossi had just stepped up to the main registration desk.
“They make a nice couple,” H said.
Butch grunted. “Did you run a background check on Buchanan?”
H nodded. “I couldn’t find anything disturbing. He’s ex-CIA. That was pretty easy to access. But there were some files I couldn’t get into.”
Butch turned then to stare at his friend. “Files exist that you couldn’t get into?”
H shrugged. “With some time, I’ll get in, but this is a busy weekend. Classified government files are always a challenge. And I didn’t think it was urgent.”
“She’s Renie’s niece. I wouldn’t want her hurt.”
“Henry is escorting Buchanan and Ms. Rossi into the business office,” H said.
Butch glanced at his watch. “At 11:15 on the eve of Valentine’s Day. What kind of business could be that pressing?”
H punched a number into his cell phone.
While Butch waited for the information, he tried to gather his thoughts and plan his next move. That had been his problem all day. Ever since he’d learned that Renie was coming to his island, he’d been on the defensive. And that had never been his best game. It was high time that he took control.
H repocketed his cell. “They sent a fax. Henry got the number, but he didn’t see the message.”
“No matter,” Butch said as he watched the two young people walk out of the lobby. “It can’t be that important.” Turning to H, he said, “I’ve decided I want to see those tapes.”
H pushed a button on the remote, and on the wall to his left, a curtain pulled back from a large plasma screen. He pressed another button and the screen came to life.
Butch stared at the TV as the credits flashed onto the screen, then the title Are You Safe? But he was only vaguely aware of the words. His attention was completely riveted to the tiny figure, dressed in some kind of black ninja outfit as it rappelled down the side of a hotel. Seconds later, the figure landed on the balcony of one of the rooms and pulled off his mask. Her mask.
Renie. He would have known those eyes anywhere. His Renie was a cat burglar?
COLE LEANED HIS ELBOW on a rock ledge and watched Pepper in the moonlight. Irene was fine and on her way. They’d know soon whether she had the Monet, or whether Evan and his friend had indeed stolen it. And then there’d be the task of recovering it. Somehow, he suspected that part was not going to go smoothly. And he wasn’t sure if he could keep his word to Pepper.
One way or the other, he meant to get the Monet back to Althea Atwell, and Pepper might not like him butting in on her territory.
Always a planner, he’d surprised himself by acting on impulse and bringing her here to the same spot on the beach where they’d made love earlier.
He’d intended to take her back to the cove. He’d even had a basket packed to provide ambience—champagne, a tablecloth, a half-dozen candles, chocolate-covered strawberries, grapes, cheese and some caviar.
But as they’d walked out of the hotel, the lagoon had seemed too far, and their time together was running out. Meanwhile, the beach was deserted.
Glancing around, Cole didn’t regret his impulse. He’d spread a cloth and lit candles in a place where the fall of rocks blocked the wind. The surf was up, the waves tumbling into a lacy white froth as they pushed onto the shore. Other than that, the night was quiet.
Watching Pepper sip champagne in the moonlight, he felt something that he’d felt only twice before in his life. The first time was when he’d settled into the home of the man who’d taught him to sail. Then he’d felt the same thing when Luke had invited him to San Francisco for the summer. He’d been eighteen, a college freshman, and walking into Peter Rossi’s house, he’d felt as if he’d come home.
That he was experiencing a similar emotion on a deserted and moonlit beach had little to do with the setting or even the ambience he’d created and everything to do with the woman who was holding her glass out for more champagne.
He topped off her glass. He’d wanted her from the moment he’d first seen her picture. Since that first kiss in the Atwells’ suite, the desire had only escalated. He was coming to realize that he would always want her like this. Always need her.
The thought, the word, stunned him. He hadn’t allowed himself to need anything or anyone for a very long time. But she’d snuck up on him. Oh, he’d known that he wanted more from her than an island fling and he’d set out to sway her feelings in that direction.
Just what had been his agenda? To extend their affair once they got back to San Francisco. But now he realized that he wanted much more than an affair with Pepper Rossi.
Just what was he going to do about it? A decision would have to be made, but not tonight. Right now, he simply decided to give voice to the thought that had filled his mind all evening. “You’re beautiful.”
Her gaze flew to Cole’s. Her hand trembled, spilling a little champagne, and he saw surprise in her eyes.
He suppressed the little flare of anger. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that before?”
She shook her head. “Why should they? I’m not beautiful. My mother was. Luke looks like her, tall and blond, like the Pendletons. Matt’s inherited the best of both worlds—he’s tall like a Pendleton and dark like the Rossis. And as handsome as sin.”
Cole’s lips curved. “He considers it a curse.”
“Right. Unless he’s dealing with a woman and it gets him what he wants.” She tilted her head to one side. “I envy you.”
“Why?”
“You knew them all those years that I didn’t.”
“I envy you too. They’re your brothers. They’re just my friends.”
“They don’t think of me that way. They think of me as the Pepper Problem.”
He set his glass aside. Why was he surprised that she’d heard the phrase? She was a smart woman. “You’re wrong about the fact that they don’t think about you as their sister. That’s the whole problem. They love you and they want to protect you. That’s what brothers do with sisters. If I had one, that’s exactly what I’d do.”
“They want to put me on a shelf and drag me out for family gatherings. That’s what my grandmother wanted. And she wanted me to marry ‘well’ because my mother hadn’t. She wanted a marriage for me that she could put on display for others to admire. I’m not going to allow my father and my brothers to do what they think is good for me. That’s what Irene did forty years ago. She tried to please her parents, and look where it’s gotten her. She’s stolen a Monet, probably lost it, and she’s on a boat somewhere trying to get to a man who thinks it would be best for her if they never got together.”
“You’re not going to end up like your aunt.”
; “No.” She met his eyes directly. “I’m not.”
“And you’re wrong about your brothers. I’m not saying that they don’t want to put you on a shelf. They’re proud of you and they want to show you off. They feel guilt for the years you’ve lost. But it’s not all they want. More than anything, they want you to be happy. And you’ve got persistence. It won’t be long before they see that you’re turning into a damn good PI.”
Her eyes widened. “You think so?”
“I do.” He set his glass aside. Then he took her glass and set it next to his. “You never give yourself enough credit. I told you I was impressed by what you did tonight when you grabbed that glass. I was a step behind you there.”
Her lips curved in a smile. “The way I recall it, you weren’t anywhere near a step behind me. You were practically glued to my backside. And your hands were just inches from where I wanted them to be. It’s a wonder I could think at all.”
He leaned close and brushed his mouth over hers. “The point is you thought of getting Jean Claude’s fingerprints, and I didn’t. I think you have the makings of that super sleuth you want so much to be.”
She drew back. “I’m never going to be able to handle the gun part.”
“You did an effective job with Castellano and H earlier today. Ideally, a gun should act as a deterrent. You don’t always have to shoot people with it. Besides, no one is perfect at everything.”
“You are.”
He shot her a quick grin. “My curse.” Then his grin faded. “You have other strengths—not the least of which is the lightning-fast way your mind works. Like it did tonight when you decided to grab that glass. You should capitalize on those strengths and forget worrying about what you can’t do. And now…” He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “Why don’t we concentrate on what we both can do well?”
NERVES. Pepper could feel them knotting in her stomach as Cole leaned down to brush his mouth over hers. She tried to will them away. This was what she wanted, what she’d been looking forward to all evening. The dinner, the dancing—that was all a prelude.
