A Dangerously Sexy Christmas

by Stefanie London

  “That box had my chunky necklaces in it.” She picked up a necklace that looked like a rope made from plaited strands of jewels in gold, blue and white. “None of them are missing.”

  “Did you make all of these?” he asked as she laid the necklaces reverently in the box.

  “Yeah, the one with the red crystals and pink pearls was the first piece of jewelry I ever made.” She glanced up. “Are you impressed?”

  He nodded. “You’ve obviously got a lot of talent.”

  “Thanks.” She picked up a long gold chain. On it was a pendant of light blue stone that had fine lines of white and a deeper blue running through it. “This is blue lace agate. Some people believe that stones have special properties. Agate has been used since Babylonian times in amulets to protect and heal the wearer.”

  Max raised a brow. It sounded like a load of hocus-pocus to him, but he needed Rose to keep giving him information so he didn’t want to belittle the idea.

  He peered at the pendent. “Special properties? What exactly is this one supposed to do?”

  “Increase tranquility and communication. The stone was given to me by a lady who was into crystal healing. She thought I had a hard time connecting and communicating with others.” A shadow passed over her face. “It hasn’t helped much.”

  “Then why do you still have it?”

  She stared at him for a moment, before shrugging. “I like the color of the stone. It’s pretty.”

  Holding the necklace by its chain, she carefully placed it in the box to ensure the chain didn’t knot and closed the lid. A stand that looked like an upright tree branch held several smaller necklaces and bracelets.

  “Is anything missing so far?”

  “Not that I can tell.” She bent and picked up a few items that had fallen on to the floor. “I have a lot of jewelry, but I know every single piece. I can’t figure out what they were searching for.”

  A melody chimed as she opened the music box, the ballerina figure turning in a slow circle. Rose sorted the earrings into pairs and placed them in the compartments of the box.

  “Is anything here worth a lot of money?”

  “That depends on what you think a lot of money is.” She lifted a strand of pearls from the jewelry stand, her thumb tracing the delicate gold clasp. “The pearls are probably worth the most. They’re Mikimoto cultured pearls, vintage, and in good condition. My mother wore them on her wedding day. They’d probably fetch a few thousand, but you’d need to ask an antique dealer that specializes in jewelry.”

  “Like your father?”

  Rose nodded, her eyes blank, her fingers playing over the pearls one by one as if she was counting them. “Yeah, he’d probably know. He gave her the necklace as a wedding gift.”

  At the mention of her father, Rose seemed to withdraw. “I’m surprised the intruder chose to leave all this jewelry behind.”

  “Maybe it’s because we caught the guy in the act?” she mused.

  “Still, jewelry and small electronics are always the targeted items in a robbery, aside from cash. They’re easy to transport and pawn.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense that he would leave them.”

  She hung the pearls back on the stand and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “I don’t know what else to tell you. I have no idea what they’re looking for.”

  There was a waver in her voice, a hint of fear that she was trying to hide. Her eyes were locked onto something invisible, her lips pressed together.

  “After we finish cleaning up here we’ll sit down and I’ll run you through that questionnaire.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, fighting the urge to pull her into a more comforting embrace. “We’ll figure this out.”

  “I want to believe you,” she said, shaking her head. “But I don’t even know where to start.”

  “That’s my job. You just need to give me the information I ask for.”

  “That sounds one-sided. You’re going to know everything about me, and I know nothing about you. You didn’t answer any of my serious questions yesterday.” The color returned to her cheeks and her voice steadied. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “You seemed to already have me figured out. What was it you called me? A beefed-up GI Joe wannabe, I think.”

  Her eyes widened and she laughed. “I may have said that.”

  “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but that was a first.”

  “Did I hurt your feelings?” she asked softly, her yellow-green eyes studying him intently.

  “Takes a lot more than name-calling to hurt me, Rose.”

  “To be fair, you haven’t given me much else to go on. All I know is that you poach your eggs and you play cards, but you don’t gamble.” She threw her hands up in the air. “It doesn’t exactly make for an exciting personal profile.”

  “I also told you I enjoy running,” he said, holding back a smile.

  She rolled her eyes. “Lame.”

  He sighed. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

  She interlaced her fingers and thought for a moment. “What did you want to be when you were little?”

  “A policeman,” he said, keeping his expression neutral. He could say one thing about Rose Lawson, the girl was very good at zeroing in on a guy’s weak spot. “Or a knight.”

  She laughed, walking over to the closet and replacing all the boxes of shoes that had been pulled out and opened. “You like the idea of saving damsels in distress, do you?”

  “I like the idea of being able to protect people who can’t always protect themselves.”

  She frowned. “Am I in that category? Because I’m not waiting to be rescued. I’ll tell you that now.”

  “I’m quite sure you’d give any bad guy a run for his money. But I’m trained in protection. I’ve honed my skills for years.” He raked a hand over his hair, aware he was walking a fine line with Rose.

  She valued her independence. That much was clear. But he needed her to trust him. He couldn’t protect her unless she accepted his presence.

  “So you believe you’ll do a better job protecting me than I’d do protecting myself?” Her chin tilted up, challenging him.

  “In this case, yes. But that’s because it’s what I do, not because I think you’re weak. Which, by the way, I don’t.”

  A reluctant smile passed over her lips. “You could run for office with that political correctness.”

  He raised a brow. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be.” Mischief sparkled in her eyes as she stood and shut the closet door. “Come on. I think we’ve earned ourselves some lunch. If you’re going to grill me it may as well be over a coffee.”

  5

  LESS THAN HALF an hour later, Rose had whipped up two omelets and a salad. Much to her surprise, Max readily offered to help in the kitchen, dicing vegetables and washing utensils. While she firmly believed women weren’t the only ones who should work in the kitchen, she’d grown up in a house where her mother had been expected to do everything remotely domestic. She respected Max for chipping in when he hadn’t been hired to be her sous chef.

  “I still maintain that it’s not fair you get to ask me all these questions and you tell me nothing.” She cut into the omelet, her stomach growling at the sight of the cheese oozing out. “How about if I ask you a question every time you ask me one?”

  “We’ll be here for days.” Max shook his head and forked spinach leaves into his mouth.

  “Two of your questions for one of mine?” she bargained.

  “Shouldn’t it be enough that I’m good at my job?”

  “If you’re going to be staying here, I want to know who you are. I wouldn’t let a stranger stay on my couch.” She speared another piece of omelet.

  “This is diffe
rent. I’m glad you’re being careful, but I’m not just some guy off the street,” he said. “I ran you through my credentials yesterday and talked you through the company’s purpose. They did a full background check before hiring me.”

  “Big whoop.”

  “Big whoop?” He blinked. “You’re incredibly stubborn, you realize that, right?”

  “Yup.” She cocked her head and watched as he hoovered down the last of his meal. “Though something tells me you like a girl who’s a bit of a challenge.”

  “I wish I didn’t,” he muttered, pushing his plate aside and reaching for the blank notepad.

  “Paper and pen? How vintage.” She grinned when he rolled his eyes. “You’re showing your age there.”

  “I remember things better when I write them down.” He shot her a look of pure smoke, those dark eyes of his locking onto her. “Just how old do you think I am?”

  Being truthful, she’d put him at early to midthirties; he had a few lines around the corners of his eyes and a seriousness that only came with experience and disappointment. But the desire to tease him overruled her desire to be right.

  “No more than forty,” she said with an innocent smile.

  “I’m thirty-three.” He looked mildly offended. “Thankfully I don’t have to guess your age.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Who told you my age?”

  “We always gather basic information before we accept a client.” He tapped the end of his pen against the notepad. “No siblings, right?”

  She shook her head. It seemed Max could switch to business mode just like that. Rose picked at the remains of her omelet. She wouldn’t be able to eat another bite now that it was time for him to dig into her private life.

  “Can you think of anyone at all who might want to target you?”

  “No.”

  “Not a single person?”

  She hated his blank expression. Sure, the poker face would be part of his job—a necessary skill to ensure he kept the upper hand. But that didn’t mean she had to like it.

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure what you want me to say. I certainly haven’t pissed anyone off enough for them to break into my house.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “Let’s run through all the people you’ve been in contact with since you moved back.”

  “Well...” She drummed her fingers against the table top. “There’s my boss at the jewelry store. My dad. That’s pretty much it.”

  “How is it possible that you’ve been living here for a month and you haven’t made any personal connections?” He furrowed his dark brows. “You haven’t made friends with a neighbor or chatted to someone in the street? Gone for coffee with anyone?”

  Her cheeks flamed. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Working part time?”

  Was he seriously suspicious of her? She shoved her plate away in disgust at his insinuation that she was hiding information from him. “I have client commissions, too,” she said stiffly. “I’ve had things to do, like...moving in here.”

  Okay, that was a stretch. She’d moved to New York with nothing more than two suitcases of clothing. Her jewelry-making supplies had been shipped over ahead of her, and she’d secured the apartment before she’d officially moved. Plus, she’d rented it fully furnished.

  Why hadn’t she made friends?

  Her gut churned with humiliation. Perhaps the crazy gemstone lady was right...she did have a hard time connecting and communicating with people.

  “Why do you think you prefer to be alone?”

  Rose crossed her arms over her chest. “Who are you, Dr. Phil?”

  “If you won’t answer the question, I’ll just have to poke around in your personal life more.” He sounded as though she should know this already.

  “I am answering your questions.” She huffed. “Look, things are weird with my dad. I have a job that keeps me busy. I don’t want any more people in my life. They just...bring drama. It’s easier to keep to myself.”

  Talk about the most painful confession ever.

  He nodded. “I get that. So you have no idea what the thieves are looking for?”

  “None at all.”

  He nodded, his eyes scanning the mostly blank page of his notebook. “Have you noticed any strange activity at the shop?”

  She scanned her memory, but no event seemed out of place. In fact, until the break-in she’d been living in ignorant bliss. Lonely bliss, admittedly. She’d made a few sales on her own jewelry pieces and garnered a commission from a wealthy socialite. The owner of the store had been singing her praises.

  “I know I’m not being helpful, but there’s nothing I can recall that seems off. We haven’t had any crazy customers or disturbing activity other than the break-in itself.”

  The muscles worked in his hand and forearm as he clenched and unclenched his fist as if squeezing an imaginary stress ball.

  “Okay, this is getting us nowhere. Tell me how you came to work at the jewelry store.”

  “I wanted to get a job to support myself, but one that also would allow me to build my business. One of the designers I worked with in London gave me the store owner’s details. I went into the store to introduce myself and she hired me on the spot.”

  “How did this contact know her?”

  “Um... I’m not exactly sure. He did some work in New York for a bit, so I assume she’s a business connection.”

  “You didn’t ask him how he knew this woman?”

  She took a deep breath and crossed her arms. “Why would I grill him when he’d handed me the exact opportunity I needed? I was more interested in being able to pay my rent than delving into their relationship.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m not trying to insinuate you brought this on yourself, but I have to explore every angle...and we don’t have many at the moment.” He paused, his pen scratching against the notepad. “Would someone try to get to your father through you?”

  The question took her by surprise. Sure Nigel Lawson wouldn’t win Father of the Year, but she couldn’t imagine people coming after her because of him. He’d been a bad husband, but he hadn’t bothered to marry again after her mother divorced him, so it wasn’t as if there were any jilted exes to worry about.

  “He’s an antique dealer. It’s not exactly a dangerous profession.”

  “You mentioned that you and your mother left with only a few suitcases when you moved to London. Why was that?” He was watching her intently.

  “We hadn’t planned to leave. It just happened one night.” She swallowed, fighting back the memory of her crying as her mother threw clothes into a suitcase.

  “Did she ever explain why she decided to move you all the way to England?”

  “My father cheated on her...a lot. I think she’d had enough. They fought all the time, and he’d disappear for days without notice.”

  Max nodded, the cool professionalism replaced with something even more awful: pity. She didn’t want him to feel sorry for her. She’d gotten through her sucky childhood by promising herself she’d never turn into her mother.

  Time to even the playing field of this conversation.

  “Now you need to tell me something screwed up about your childhood,” Rose said, collecting the plates from the table and scraping the leftovers into a bin. “Don’t leave me hanging out here thinking I’m the only one whose parents sucked.”

  He stepped down from the stool and shrugged. “I had a pretty happy childhood. My parents were great, very supportive. My dad was a cop and he was great at his job. My younger brother is at law school now. We’re pretty close.”

  “That did not help me even a little bit.” She leaned against the kitchen counter and shook her head.

  “I inherited my boring, serious ways from my father.” He brought the empty water glasses over t
o the dishwasher and placed them on the top rack, smiling down at her. “My brother was always the charming character, and I was the big brother stick in the mud.”

  “Okay, I feel a little bit better now.” Her lips twitched. “Why are you here if your life was so perfect back home?”

  He stiffened. “What about your ex-boyfriends? Would any of them have reason to follow you here?”

  Oh, so they were playing that game again? He could ask her anything, but he’d shut her down the minute she turned the spotlight on him. She’d get him back for that later.

  “Relationships aren’t really my thing.” She shrugged. “I had boyfriends but none of them were serious, no rings or promises. I made it clear when I dated them that I wasn’t into that.”

  “Did any of them get angry or push the subject?”

  “Not really. I guess you could say I chose them because I knew they didn’t want the whole white-picket-fence thing.”

  “You don’t believe in love?” He hovered close to her, and the scent of clean male skin suddenly enveloped her.

  “It’s not that I don’t believe in it, but love isn’t this perfect, all-encompassing thing people make it out to be. I’m quite happy to focus on the more carnal aspects of love.”

  Images from last night danced in her head, and her mind gravitated to the distraction like a fly to honey. Love might be off her list, but sex certainly wasn’t. She could understand it, control it. And sex with a guy as hot and as skilled as Max... Well, that was the cherry on top of an already tasty sundae.

  It had nothing to do with the fact that he made her feel safe and wanted. Nothing at all...

  “I remember what happened the last time you looked at me like that,” Max said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  “Like what?” She stepped closer.

  “Like I’m about to get eaten up.”

  She raised her hands to his chest, smoothing the fabric of his T-shirt up and down. Touching the hard ridges of muscle made her blood hum.

  Darkness flared in his eyes as he caught her wrists in his hands. “We’re supposed to be working,” he said, staring at her pointedly.