Her jaw seemed to tighten, but she managed a crisp nod. “I will acknowledge he has diamonds. I’m not Cleopatra, Queen of Denial.”
“Good. Because it looks like we might have competition in finding them. To figure out who is after the diamonds, we need to figure out who knows about them and why this person would steal from Eli. And unfortunately, Mr. Smith seems to be after not only the diamonds, but also onto you. This person knew you had a diamond, a very expensive diamond. I’ll say it again—you’re not safe here. So I don’t give a crap if you trust me or not. You’re going to stay with me.”
She eyed him quizzically, staring at him on the other side of her hotel bed, the same bed they’d broken in last night and again this morning, the same one where she’d been ready to frisk him. “With you? In your room? Like we’re lovers on a vacation?”
He laughed, and the sound turned into a scoff. “You can have your own separate bed, Ma,” he said, affecting an old man’s voice. “Would that make you feel better?”
She answered by rolling her eyes. Despite the tension that ran thick between them, he got a kick out of ribbing her still. “Thanks, Pa. Hope you enjoy your twin bed, too, for your old aches and pains.”
“I will. And I won’t let some hot, young, whippersnapper foxy lady stay someplace that got robbed.” He dropped the teasing tone and locked eyes with her. “No matter how you slice it, someone was in your room last night and took a ten-thousand-dollar jewel. I want you by my side. I will keep you safe. I’m good at it. It’s what I do.”
The rough edges around her melted away, and she smiled sweetly. “Thank you for saying that. Especially since I know you’re still mad at me over my terrible blindfolding skills.”
“They were pretty bad,” he said, then walked around the bed and dropped a hand to her shoulder. “Say you’ll stay with me.”
“I’m leaving for a tour in three days.”
“Then that gives us seventy-two hours to figure this out.”
Her lips quirked up. “What if Mr. Smith is onto us? Is it bad if we’re seen together?”
“My gut tells me Mr. Smith is angling for Eli, and that’s why diamonds that Eli gave his fiancée and his stepdaughter were stolen. Someone is after the diamonds, and that someone knows you had one and Isla had one. We just need to keep being stealthy, but we’ve always had to be stealthy. Now, we need to work together to stay ahead of Mr. Smith.”
She stepped closer. “It really wasn’t you who did it?”
He moved in closer, his chest to hers, breathing in her sexy scent. Minutes ago, he’d been ready for her to run her hands all over him. He’d wanted it. He still did. That was the rub. “It wasn’t me. Because if it were me, I wouldn’t be back. If I were stealing your diamond, I wouldn’t be here with you now. I wouldn’t invite you to my room. I wouldn’t need you to solve this case. I’d leave. I’d walk away from you and I’d get the hell out of town with a bird in the hand. But I like you, even though I’m mad at you, and that’s why I want you to stay with me. This isn’t just about us finding diamonds. It’s about us making sure those fingers don’t get pointed at us. So let’s solve this bitch of a case together.”
He held out a hand to seal the deal.
She took it and shook. “This is the craziest trip ever to the Cayman Islands.”
“I agree.” He dipped a hand into his shorts pocket. “Oh, I did steal something.” He took the small honey jar from his pocket. “I saw it on a room service tray on my way out this morning and I grabbed it to give to you. As a silly little gift, since you love the hotel’s weirdly amazing honey. I’m pretty sure you felt it when you were patting me down.”
“I did.”
“What did you think it was?”
“Well, I didn’t think it was that!”
He laughed. “Now we’re getting somewhere. But you did think it was the jewels for a minute, right?” he asked, eyeing her with a c’mon-admit-it stare.
She shrugged her admission.
“Let’s put it this way,” she said, wrapping her hands around his fingers on the jar. “I’m glad to know the jar doesn’t have honey-coated diamonds in it.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
He dropped her suitcase on the tiled floor. A fan circled lazily overhead, stirring the gauzy white curtains that hung by the sliding glass doors. He grabbed her hand, pulled her to the open deck. The sun was still high in the sky and his room had a stunning view of the endless blue water. He also had a clear view of how to resolve this turmoil still roiling in his chest.
On the one hand, he was grateful she came with him to his hotel, and he was thrilled to see her out of harm’s way. On the other hand, he wanted her to know the truth of who he was. No more lies. No more doubts. They’d had it out, for all intents and purposes, in her room, as the rush of anger coupled with the urgent need to get her safe ruled the moment. Now, it was time to let go of the defensiveness and try to understand each other. If they were working together—and hell, that sure seemed to be the plan—they had to be on the same side.
Otherwise, he’d walk away. But the thought of leaving her made his gut clench.
He had to try to talk to her about some of the harder topics. If not, this would be Rosalinda and the Medici job all over again.
“Just look,” he said, gesturing to the vast sea.
She gazed toward the water. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It is. And I’m showing you to make a point.”
“Over the view?” She parked her hands on the railing.
He turned to her and met her eyes. “Yes. I’m showing you this because it’s beautiful. Because you love the water. Because you are an outdoor girl through and through. Because I know these things about you,” he said, taking her hands and clasping them in his. He squeezed. “I know already that the water calms you. I know the sunshine is like some kind of magic to you. And I know you love your mother with a fierceness that can move mountains. You’re like this warrior princess who’d go to battle for her, and even though I’ve never met her, I can picture her. I imagine she is the gentlest, kindest person in the world who wouldn’t hurt a fly, and you fight for her. Not because she’s the kind of woman who won’t fight for herself, but rather because she chooses not to. Am I right?”
Steph drew in a deep breath and nodded. A warm breeze blew by, stirring up the ends of her pretty blonde hair. “Yes. You’re right.” Her voice was soft.
As the waves lapped the shore in the distance, and boaters skipped over the blue waters, he grasped her arms. “But what do you know about me?”
She opened her lips but didn’t speak.
“Steph,” he said, fixing her with a sharp gaze, and then asked again, needing to set her straight, desperate to avoid another on-the-job mistake. “What do you know about me?”
“That you like ice cream?” She said it like a question, her expression confused.
He nodded, a sliver of a smile appearing briefly. “That’s a good start. What else?”
“That you like to tell jokes?” she asked, squinting as the sun shone brightly overhead.
“Keep going.”
“That you’re motivated by your family,” she said with more confidence now in her tone.
“Good. Keep going.”
“That you do what you do because of them. To take care of your little sister and brother, and your big sister’s kid.”
“I do.”
“And that you hate when bastards get away with anything.”
He tapped his finger to his nose. Bingo. “Know what else?”
“What?”
A knot of discomfort clogged his throat. He pushed past it, speaking plainly, honestly. “I went out with a woman who nearly cost me a job. Who tried to steal the artifact we’d teamed up to find,” he said, the memory blasting through him of how foolish he’d felt when Rosalinda stole it from him. “I trusted her. I thought she cared about me. She only cared about the prize.”
“I don’t even want the prize,” Steph said, raising he
r chin, meeting his gaze. “I’m not after money. I’m after the truth.”
“But it seemed this morning that you were playing me,” he said, his tone turning rougher. “That when you saw me at the café, you were all sexy snuggly because you thought I’d run. And outside the gallery, you were pretending to get cozy when you put your hands in my shorts, but you were only searching for stones even after I told you there weren’t any.”
“I was,” she said through gritted teeth. Her expression was one of frustration and embarrassment.
“Don’t fuck with my feelings. You know I want you. You know I like you. Just don’t fuck with me,” he said, yanking her close to him.
“I’m not. I won’t. I’m sorry,” she said, her tone full of contrition.
That knot unwound, and he nodded. “So tell me the truth. Do I seem like the type of guy who’d screw you over?”
She sighed, but smiled softly. “No. You don’t seem like that kind of guy.”
He raised a hand and brushed the back of his fingertips against her cheek. Her skin was so soft. She smelled so good. “You tell me what kind of guy you think I am.”
She leaned into his hand on her cheek. “A good guy,” she whispered, her voice breathy as her eyes never strayed from his.
He nodded, glad that she’d said it. That he hadn’t put those words in her mouth. “I am. I am a good guy,” he repeated.
“You are. You really are,” she said, angling her hips, her body seeking out contact. He tugged her against him so the only thing she felt was how damn hard he was.
This woman drove him wild. She was a pistol, a fiery, sexy, determined, tenacious woman who made him crazy, and who he wanted fiercely at the same damn time. “Do you want to try that whole thing again? Like you were doing in your room. Take off my shirt, and strip off my shorts, and pull off my boxers?”
Her lips quirked up. “I didn’t get to the boxers.”
“I know,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Damn shame. Because I like it when you touch me. I like it when you take my clothes off and run your hands all over me. Do you like it when I do that to you?”
She nodded. “So much. So incredibly much,” she said, her voice breathy.
He backed her up against the railing, pressing his pelvis to her and caging her in with his arms. “Are you sure?”
He ground his hips against her, letting her feel the full length of his arousal.
Her breath came fast. “So sure,” she said, wrapping her arms around his lower back and tugging him close. “I want to finish what we were starting in the room.”
He laughed loudly and deeply. “Oh Steph. We barely got started. We hardly got started at all.”
She grabbed his shirt. “Can we please just fuck it out now?”
He cracked up at her question, at the sexy desperation in her voice. “Fuck it out?”
She nodded. “Yes. Your anger. Our mistrust. My doubt. Can we just once and for all fuck it out and let it go?”
He clasped her cheeks in his hands. “I can’t think of a damn thing I’d rather do now than fuck it out. Besides, it’s impossible for me to think straight and properly plan the next phase of Project Diamond unless you put your hands on the railing, bend over, and raise your skirt for me.”
Her eyes lit up, sparkling with a naughty kind of excitement. “Then please allow me to help you think straight.”
He laced a hand through her hair, yanked her close, and planted a hot, searing kiss on her delicious lips. She melted under his touch, and he loved it. Loved the way she responded.
As he kissed her, he lowered a hand to her leg and inched his fingers up the warm skin of her thighs, quickly finding what he wanted—the wet scrap of fabric between her legs. She was so damn turned on, just like he was. He groaned as he kissed her, his bones vibrating with lust as he ran his fingers against the evidence of her desire. He tugged off her underwear, broke the kiss, and spun her around.
Covering her back with his chest, he wrapped her hair in his hand and tugged gently. She gasped and arched her ass higher. Yup. That was his answer. She liked a little rough play. He brought his mouth to her ear. “Do you like it hard? Do you like it rough? Do you like it angry?”
She turned her head to look at him. “With you, so far I like everything.”
He grasped her chin and held her gaze, staring at her. “Good. Stay here.”
He headed inside, grabbed a condom, and returned to the gorgeous sight on his balcony—Steph, with her sundress bunched up above her hips, her panties on the ground, and her lovely, delicious body ready for him.
“Take off your shirt,” she said, her voice all dreamy sexy.
He grabbed the hem and yanked it off. “Why did you want it off?” he asked playfully.
“Because you’re hot. I like looking at you.”
“But you’re going to be looking at the ocean.”
“I like feeling you, then. That OK?”
He unzipped his shorts, let them fall to the floor, and stepped out of them. “You like feeling me. Hmm. Why’s that?”
“Because your body is insane, and I love the way it fits me.”
“It?” he asked, with an arch of the brow as he tugged off his briefs. “It?”
“It. You. Your body. You’re so hot. Looking at you turns me on,” she said, her eyes on him as he rolled on the condom. He was so damn ready. Needed this so badly. He’d wanted her since this morning. Mostly, he wanted to get rid of all the frustration stemming from their cat-and-mouse games. No better way than the physical. It was the one thing that didn’t lie. It was a language comprised only of truth. There was no doubt to the way she glistened for him. To how hot she was. To the lift in her hips, the look in her eyes, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed hard.
There was nothing but truth to the way he ached to fill her.
He positioned himself at her slick entrance, and in one delicious thrust, he pushed inside her. All the way. They moaned in unison. He snaked an arm around her chest, sliding his hand between her breasts and up to her neck. Then he pumped.
Like that, with a rough, hard rhythm, he showed her the truth.
“This, Steph. This isn’t a lie,” he said in a growl, in her ear.
“I know,” she said, gasping as he drove into her.
“This is the truth. The way we fit like this.”
“I know. Oh God, I know,” she said, her voice rising as he moved in her.
It was the purity of the connection. It was what brought them together in the first place. Here and now, on this balcony, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, with all the tourists below who had no clue diamonds were being stolen across the land, and hearts were being toyed with, and heists were plotted and replotted, he proved the one thing he could.
That this connection between them was real. It was honest.
It might not last. It might have an expiration date. But for now, as he thrust into her, this was as true as the sun blazing overhead. It was as real as the waves crashing onto the shore.
She rose up on her toes, bowed her back, and gripped the railing. He brought his hands to her hips, dug his thumbs into her bones, and took her hard. She panted, and moaned, and cried his name. Soon her cries were coming faster, and he was sure someone else in the hotel might hear, but there was no way he could care. Not as she clenched around him, rocked her hips, and whispered that she was coming.
She shuddered several times as he drove into her. He followed her there, his own orgasm tearing through him, blasting into every corner of his body. He found his release as pleasure whipped through his body, and the world winked on and off as he came.
Then he grabbed her hair and tugged it.
She yelped, a playful, satisfied sound.
“I guess you like having your hair pulled,” he growled in her ear.
“I do,” she said as he pulled out of her.
He disposed of the condom, then scooped her into his lap on a deck chair, and he held her. “I’m sorry someone broke into your room,
” he said softly, then kissed her cheek.
“Me, too.”
“You’re safe with me. Know that, Steph. Just know that.”
“I do know that. And I do know you, and I like you.”
“Same here,” he said, then wrapped his arms around her.
He liked this contact, too, far too much for his own good.
CHAPTER NINE
They showered, and he washed her hair, then soaped her body. She savored every second of it as he moved his hands from her breasts, to her belly, down her legs. She was slippery and wet, and he couldn’t take his hands off her.
She liked it that way. She loved the attention. She was damn glad they’d moved past her doubts over him. Sure, she might be facing a whole new spate of them when it came to the case, but she was facing them head-on with him—a partner and a temporary lover. He excelled at both roles, she was learning.
“I’m hardly dirty,” she said as he spent more time than needed washing her calves.
“I know, but I can’t seem to stop touching you. Your fault for being so sexy,” he said, then he stood and dropped a kiss on her nose. She smiled and sighed happily.
She wasn’t wild about fighting, but a misunderstanding that led to hard, hot make-up sex and a tender moment in the shower was A-OK in her book. She grabbed the bar of soap and returned the shower favor, washing his arms, flat belly, and back. She shampooed his hair, too, loving the way the wet strands felt in her hands. She leaned his head back under the spray and rinsed the shampoo. Soon, they stepped out of the shower and toweled off.
Her stomach growled.
He arched an eyebrow in question.
“I think I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since we had eggs for breakfast many moons ago. Want to take me on a date, roomie?” she asked with a coquettish jut of her shoulder, as if she were reeling him back in.
He shook his head, bemused as he finger-combed his hair. “You crack me up. You go from thinking I stole from you to wanting me to take you out for food?”
“I do,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows as she met his gaze in the mirror.
The Sapphire Heist (A Jewel Novel Book 2) Page 5
