To Tempt a Thief 1 (The Billionaire and the Thief)

by Pierce, Sylvia

  Davidson and the others were convinced it was an inside job, the worst kind. That Ari’s father had double-crossed them with his man, only to have it all go south on him.

  In his life, Ari’s father had been a lot of things. A master thief. A violent drunk. A cheating husband. Even a murderer, at least one time that Ari knew about. But he was a loving father, and unwaveringly loyal to the crew he’d handpicked from the best guys he’d ever worked with. Unwaveringly loyal to Ari. He was not a traitor.

  Unfortunately, no one else agreed.

  “It is,” Ari said now. “It’s totally a priority. I’m just… I wish I could catch a break, you know?” Ari’s vision blurred with unshed tears, but she refused to cry in front of this man. Crying wouldn’t get the job done, and it certainly wouldn’t win her any favors with Davidson. “It’s just a bad luck streak. I’ll break it. I know I will. So whatever you need me for, I’m there.”

  “Good.” He finally released her hand. “I needed to hear that.”

  The two finished their meal in silence, Ari picking at her food while Davidson shoveled it in by the forkful, pausing occasionally to leer at women passing on the sidewalk. After his third martini, Davidson finally wiped his mouth, and then tossed the blue cloth napkin over his plate. “I want you to head over to the JHS. Nose around, see if you can find out anything on our mysterious donor.”

  “Today?”

  “Unless you have something better to do?” Davidson narrowed his eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face like a cancer. “How’s Natasha, by the way? It’s been so long since we’ve all had dinner together. Maybe I’ll call on her for a visit. I think she’d like that.”

  Ari trembled inside. That’s all it took. The hint of a threat, a subtle reminder that Davidson knew exactly what mattered most to Ari—and exactly how to leverage it.

  “JHS, right? Already on my way.” Ari rose from her chair and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for lunch. I’ll call you with an update later.”

  “Do that.” He waited until she’d reached the corner before speaking again, calling her so loudly that everyone else on the sidewalk turned to look. “And Arianne, dear?”

  She turned to face him, forcing a smile despite the bile rising in her throat, the shake in her limbs.

  Davidson held up a to-go container, his grin making her skin crawl. “You forgot Natasha’s baklava. Shall I deliver it to her myself?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  A HARD-ON was the last thing Jared expected to get from his meeting at the JHS, but when he saw the woman standing at the information desk, all bets were off.

  Impossible.

  He’d been obsessing about her all day, and suddenly there she was, leaning against the desk with her beautiful ass calling to him like a beacon. She was dressed casually this time, a V-neck blouse and dark jeans that hugged every delicious curve, but it was definitely her. The chestnut hair, the delicate features, that confident, take-no-prisoners stance. He’d recognize her anywhere.

  But what the bloody hell is she doing?

  Jared never did find out why she’d been snooping around the penthouse last night, and now she was here, snooping around the museum just after his meeting with the curator about the Whitfield.

  It couldn’t have been a coincidence.

  Without making himself known, Jared crept up behind her, eavesdropping on her conversation with the information desk attendant.

  “Let me check,” the attendant said, paging through files on her computer. “Desolate… Desolate Rains. Okay, here it is. Acquisition is still pending, but yes, if all goes smoothly, it will be displayed in our permanent collection later this fall.”

  “Is there any other information you can give me?” his woman asked.

  “It says here that the painting was one of a series looted during the Second World War,” she said. “From—”

  “Poland’s National Art Institute,” the woman said. “Yes, I’m quite familiar with the painting’s history.”

  So was Jared. The Whitfield was long thought destroyed. Since he’d heard a rumor of its reappearance in the States three years ago, Jared had been working closely with the museum to locate it, the promise of his donation years in the making. He doubted the family he’d bought it from had any clue about its history.

  “I’m afraid that’s all the information I have right now,” the attendant said. “But you’re welcome to check back again next month. The curator should have more details about the exhibit by then.”

  “What about the donor?” his woman asked.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. That’s confidential. The donor has asked to remain anonymous.”

  “I might be able to answer your questions,” he said, finally revealing himself. “The donor and I have quite a history together.”

  The smile on his woman’s face as she turned toward him nearly melted his heart. She tried to hide it quickly, to mask her surprise at seeing him, but the damage was done, and the verdict was in.

  She was just as happy to see him as he’d been to see her.

  “Hello, Trouble,” he said.

  “Hi to you, too, Stranger.”

  “Come with me.” He led her into a secluded alcove behind the membership desk, desperate to get her alone. It wasn’t exactly private, but Jared didn’t hesitate to pull her close.

  “Are you following me, love?” He teased her skin with his lips, leaving a trail of light, fluttery kisses along her jawline. She was so warm and soft, every inch of her begging for his touch.

  She smells so fucking good…

  “This is…” She trailed off, her eyelids fluttering closed.

  “One hell of a coincidence?” Jared said. “Also, not too bad for a Monday.”

  She sighed in his arms, but the momentary excitement of their reunion was already fading. He could see it in her eyes, in the determined set of her jaw as she pulled away from his kiss.

  “Okay.” The woman cleared her throat and put a hand on his chest, holding him at arm’s length. “This is really not a good idea.”

  Liar.

  Jared took a step backward, giving her space.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’d planned on donating the Whitfield?” she asked.

  “It was supposed to be anonymous,” Jared said. “Besides, love. You didn’t even want to know my name, remember?”

  “I still don’t. I was just surprised to hear about the donation, especially after what you paid. It seemed like you really wanted the painting.”

  “I did.”

  “Just to give it away?”

  He shrugged. “That painting never should’ve ended up on the private market. It’s a cultural treasure, and it needed to be returned.”

  She considered his words, her brow furrowed.

  “You don’t believe me,” he said.

  “It’s not that. I’m just… surprised.” She adjusted the handbag draped over her shoulder, catching the neckline of her blouse and revealing the lacy edge of a pink bra. “Most guys wouldn’t give up a trophy like that. Especially without taking credit.”

  “Is it so hard to believe that I’m a nice chap?”

  The woman laughed, a sound that Jared wasn’t willing to walk away from again. He wanted to hear it in the morning, coming from his shower. Or his bed. Or the kitchen table. Or the terrace…

  “I don’t know any chaps that nice,” she said.

  He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them again. “Doesn’t mean we don’t exist.”

  “Even though you’re totally staring at my tits?”

  “What can I say? I’m a nice chap who happens to love your tits. Especially with that pink lace number you’ve got going on there.” He traced a line down the center of her breast, her nipple hardening in the wake of his touch.

  The woman smiled again, a look that felt more like an invitation than a goodbye, but then her face darkened, and she pulled her blouse back into place. “I… I should go. It was lovely seeing you again, Stranger.”
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  “Just a moment there, Trouble.” He grabbed her hand, hoping it was enough to keep her here, at least for a few more seconds. “Is that why you’re here? To find out what I did with my painting?”

  “I’d heard a rumor it was being donated. So yes, I came down to confirm.”

  “You came all the way down here,” he said, running his thumb along the palm of her hand, “for something that could’ve been confirmed with a phone call? I don’t think so.”

  A blush crept across the woman’s exposed neck and cheeks, setting her hazel eyes in sharp contrast. “Enlighten me with your theory, then.”

  “I think,” he said, bringing his lips to her ear, “you were hoping to run into me.”

  “Why would I want to run into you?”

  “Unfinished business.”

  When the woman didn’t deny it, Jared released her hand, his fingers moving to her curves, skimming the sides of her firm, beautiful breasts. She let out a soft sigh as his thumbs grazed her nipples, diamond points that rose again at his touch.

  Christ, what he’d give for a closet right now, a stolen moment to finish what they’d started last night. He ached to lick her, to suck her until she moaned for him.

  His cock stiffened at the thought.

  “You sure about that?” Her voice was shaking, her heartbeat ragged behind that thin pink bra.

  “Oh, yes. It keeps you up at night,” he whispered, gently nipping her ear, her neck. “Wondering what might’ve been. What it would’ve felt like with my cock sliding into your sweet pussy, teasing you all night long, hearing you beg for release.”

  The woman swallowed hard, her pulse throbbing. “Is that what keeps you up at night?”

  “Since I met you? Absolutely.”

  But the truth was, it was more than that. Sure, Jared had tried to convince himself it was just the interrupted sex, that maybe if he would’ve fucked her properly last night, he wouldn’t be obsessing about her today.

  But seeing her in the daylight, her bright smile, the heady way she looked at him after he’d whispered those dark, sexy words in her ear… It was more than physical. There was something about this woman that got to him. That made him want to know her. All of her.

  Fuck, she’s right. This is a terrible idea. Walk away, asshole. Just walk away, and forget you ever laid eyes on her.

  “We met less than twenty-four hours ago,” she said.

  “And I haven’t slept a wink. You?”

  She looked up at Jared through long, feathery lashes, her eyes dark with a desire so unchecked it sent an electric jolt straight to his cock.

  “Same,” she whispered. “But I… No. I really should go. I have to meet—”

  “I’m going to ask you a question,” he said, encircling her wrists with his fingers, “the answer to which will determine how the rest of this plays out.”

  Goose bumps rippled along her arms. When she spoke, her voice was tentative, her gaze dreamy and faraway. “Okay.”

  “Do you want me to walk away?” He nodded toward the exit. “If you tell me to do it, I’ll walk out that door and forget we ever met.”

  “But—”

  “It’s a simple question, love. Do you want me to leave?” He cupped her face in his hands, her silky hair tickling his fingers. It was impossible not to remember pulling on that hair while he fucked her mouth last night, sliding into the back of her throat as she sucked him in deep. He’d still tasted her on his skin this morning, on his lips, on his fingers, and all he could think about was seeing her again, stripping her bare, spreading her legs wide, and plundering her pussy with his tongue, stroking her until she collapsed from exhausted pleasure.

  Now, standing so close that his breath stirred her hair, he looked deep into her eyes, whispering one last time against those luscious pink lips. “Yes, or no?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  YES, OR NO? After a picnic dinner of cheese fries and vanilla shakes, Ari lounged on a blanket in Bryant Park with Tasha, alternately watching the movie and wondering if she’d done the right thing.

  In the hours since she’d run into the man at the museum, she’d gone from yes, to no, to hell no, and was currently hovering around “worst mistake of her life” territory. But as much as she hated to admit it, the moment her phone lit up with a text from her newest contact, that “hell no” turned into a “holy orgasmic yes” in a heartbeat.

  STRANGER: Miss me, love?

  ARI: Hmm. I’ve been keeping myself occupied.

  STRANGER: Literally or figuratively?

  ARI: Use your imagination.

  STRANGER: I’m sitting at home doing just that. Where are you?

  ARI: On a date. So go away.

  STRANGER: You’re on a date, but you’re texting me?

  ARI: YOU’RE texting ME.

  STRANGER: And yet…

  ARI: You’re impossible!

  STRANGER: So I’ve been told. I must’ve made quite a second impression if you’re still ignoring your date for me.

  ARI: I’m not ignoring her!

  STRANGER: HER? Now things are getting interesting…

  ARI: OMG, my sister! And before you say another word, I already know she’d think you’re a total creep.

  STRANGER: I’m not interested in your sister, love. But for the record, do YOU think I’m a total creep?

  ARI: Maybe. :-)

  STRANGER: Come on! What kind of creep buys a girl a fancy hot dog on their first date?

  ARI: Seriously? hot dogs are the creepy man’s trademark. And that wasn’t our first date. More like #4.

  STRANGER: I see you’ve given our relationship a lot of thought.

  ARI: You’re the one who called me your wife.

  STRANGER: Married within an hour of meeting. Yet, sadly, a relationship mostly unconsummated. Sounds like a made-for-telly movie.

  ARI: Pro tip, hot stuff. If you want your wife to put out, take her to a hotel. Or on a cruise. I hear the ladies love that shit.

  STRANGER: You’re dreadful!

  ARI: Sooo not what you said last night.

  STRANGER: You’re just lucky I couldn’t find any closets in the museum. Today might’ve turned out a lot differently for both of us.

  ARI: Pretty cocky for a man sitting home alone while his wife’s out on a date.

  STRANGER: :-( At least tell me what you’re wearing, Trouble.

  ARI: You already know what I’m wearing. You saw me wearing it earlier, remember?

  STRANGER: How could I forget? Seeing your ass in those tight jeans distracted me so much I missed my 2:30 meeting. So tell me again.

  ARI: *shrugs*

  STRANGER: Well. You’re not very fun tonight.

  ARI: Really? Even though I’m not wearing panties?

  STRANGER: !

  STRANGER: !!!

  ARI: I bet the rest of the guys here think a girl who goes commando to a movie screening in a public park is LOTS of fun. Maybe I should take a poll?

  STRANGER: Just so we’re clear, I’ll kill the first man who answers that question.

  STRANGER: Wait… does this mean you weren’t wearing panties at the museum?

  STRANGER: Still there?

  ARI: Yes, sorry! Movie. Just got to my favorite part.

  STRANGER: What movie?

  ARI: Sleepless in Seattle. Empire State Building scene. BRB.

  STRANGER: I knew it! You’re a hopeless romantic. A sexy-as-hell, hopeless, panty-less romantic who drives me—

  “You are so busted!” Tasha swiped the phone from Ari’s hand, her eyes glowing with mischief as she scanned the screen.

  “Give it back, Tasha.”

  “Is this Mr. Already Forgotten?”

  “No. It’s just… a guy from work.” Ari reached for the phone, but Tasha wouldn’t relent.

  “I can’t believe I’m watching this romantic-as-hell movie while my sister’s sitting here sexting some internet guy like it’s no big deal.”

  “What? I am not! And he’s not an internet guy. He’s… I told you,
it’s a work thing.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Tasha glanced down at the phone, her expression souring. “Eww, you’re not wearing panties? Ari!”

  An older couple on a blanket in front of them turned around to give Ari the evil eye.

  “Tasha!” Ari whispered. Her cheeks burned, but Tasha only giggled.

  “He thinks you’re romantic,” she whispered. “Obviously he doesn’t know you very well. Oh, he just sent a new one!” Tasha glanced again at the phone, her eyes narrowing as she read the latest message. “What the fuck? Now he just sounds like a psycho.”

  “Give me that.” Ari checked the screen.

  No more games, Arianne. I need you here ASAP. Nonnegotiable. Find a cab—my driver is unavailable.

  It wasn’t her man. It was Davidson.

  “It’s the boss,” Ari said, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice.

  Tasha rolled her eyes. “Great. I already know he’s a psycho.”

  “Don’t say that. I’m lucky to have this job.”

  Everything okay? she texted.

  Be here in 30 minutes, Arianne. We need to talk about your future.

  The skin on Ari’s neck prickled. She’d completely forgotten to report in on her museum findings, and after the lunch meeting disaster, she knew she was on thin ice. There was no telling what he wanted from her now.

  “Isn’t it about time you ditch that gig?” Tasha asked. “You’re super smart, talented. Why stay in a crappy job when you can probably find something awesome?”

  “It pays really well, Tasha. I can’t just walk away.”

  The movie credits were rolling, but the sisters were still drawing nasty looks from everyone around them.

  “So that’s the most important thing?” Tasha asked. “Money?”

  “It is when you don’t have any,” Ari whispered. “And that’s not something I want you to worry about. Ever. Okay?”

  It wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument, and Ari knew it wouldn’t be the last. But for now Tasha dropped it, gathering up their trash and helping Ari fold the blanket.

  “I need to catch a cab,” Ari said. Davidson lived in a massive steel-and-glass tower in the no man’s land between Chinatown and the Financial District, arguably the most inconvenient location in Manhattan. Getting there in thirty minutes was about as likely as finding that awesome new job Tasha thought she deserved, but she had to try.