Played

by Barbara Freethy

  He blew out an amazed breath. “That’s a hell of a secret.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “So Isabella was married to Vittorio--”

  “When she slept with my father,” Christina finished bitterly. “That’s right, J.T. I’m the daughter of a thief and an adulteress. Maybe I could put that on the résumé for my next job, whatever that is, since I doubt anyone in the art world will ever hire me again. Who could blame them? I have such an incredible pedigree.”

  He frowned. “Okay, slow down. Back up. How did they even meet each other?”

  Christina turned and looked out at the river. “Maria said they met in the library. My father swept Isabella off her feet. It was a summer thing. Apparently Isabella wasn’t happy with her husband, so she and my father had an affair. Then my dad went back to the States and Isabella discovered she was pregnant. I have no idea how I came to grow up with my father instead of her -- I assume she didn’t want me. I guess that part of the story that my father told me was true. My mother didn’t want me.”

  J.T. moved in behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. “You don’t know that,” he murmured.

  “I know enough. My father is a liar and a cheat. He has no morals. My mother is -- was -- apparently the same way. And look at me....” She turned in his arms to face him. “I’ve spent my whole life covering up and protecting my father. Why? Why did I do that? How could I be so blind? The evidence was right there in front of me. He’s a...jerk.”

  J.T. let out a sigh, knowing there was probably nothing he could say that would make her feel better, but he found himself wanting to try. “Your father loved you. You told me about the great times you had -- that it was just the two of you. He wasn’t lying and cheating the whole time, Christina.”

  “Yes, he was. He was stealing when I was a little girl. He called them games. He said we were playing, but I know now that I was probably just his cover story. No one would ever suspect a man and his little daughter of being thieves.”

  It disturbed him to hear the disillusionment in her voice. Christina wasn’t a cynic. She wasn’t hard and bitter. She was passionate, romantic, generous, and hopeful. Since he’d first met her she’d never given up believing that somehow everything would work out. That she’d find a way to make it right. But now she was completely defeated. She’d lost her spirit. She’d lost herself. He rubbed her shoulders. Her muscles were so tight he could feel the hard knots.

  “I should turn myself in,” Christina said. “Call it quits. If they find my father and arrest him, whatever, I don’t care.”

  “Of course you care. And you’re not guilty of anything.”

  “Aren’t I? I knew there was something wrong with the diamond, and I didn’t do anything to stop Barclay’s from trying to sell it. I knew my father was in town, and I hid it from everyone, including you.”

  “Okay, knock it off. I know you’re hurt and furious, and you want to blow everything and everyone off, but I’m not going to let you throw your life away just like that.”

  “I’m tired,” she said, with a dispirited shake of her head. “I don’t know where my father is. I don’t know how to find him. It’s probably too late anyway.”

  “We have to try. Evan is still out there, and he’ll use you to get to your father whether you think your father will come running to your aid or not. We have to finish this. We can’t stop now. Come on, babe, we’re a team. Don’t quit on me.”

  She gazed into his eyes. “You can go on without me. You can do it by yourself.”

  A week ago he would have agreed with her. In fact, a week ago he would have preferred to be on his own. But somewhere along the way things had changed. He couldn’t let her go, not now, anyway. “We’re in this together,” he said firmly. “We’re partners. Where I go, you go. Got it?”

  “I don’t know,” she murmured.

  “Sure you do.”

  “You’re a stubborn man, you know that?” she said with annoyance.

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  “Don’t you worry that we’re too involved, that there’s a conflict of interest?” she asked, her gaze locking with his. “I know you’re already in hot water because of me. It’s only going to get worse the longer we stay together.”

  She was absolutely right. Even if he brought in Evan, even if he got the diamond back and cleared Christina’s name, there would be a price to pay, but it was too late anyway. Whatever happened with his job, he could handle it -- as long as he stopped Evan. That was the most important thing of all.

  “I’ll worry about that later,” he told her. “Let’s get some food. I think we’ll both feel better after we eat. You wanted to see some of Florence. Here’s your chance. We’ll get ourselves an authentic Florentine dinner and regroup. What do you say?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on. I know you must be hungry.”

  “I guess -- a little.”

  He kissed the frown off her mouth. “Trust me, Christina. At least about dinner.”

  “I do. I do trust you,” she said, meeting his gaze. “You’re the only one I trust. Don’t let me down.”

  “I won’t,” he said, knowing he would do everything he could to keep that promise.

  * * *

  Christina hadn’t thought she’d be able to eat a bite. The tension of the day had put a knot in her throat the size of a golf ball, but the festive atmosphere of the restaurant helped her to relax. J.T. had outdone himself with the ordering, and when the tagliolini in a delicate creamy lemon sauce arrived, Christina’s mouth began to water and her stomach grumbled that it was about time she ate something. The mixed fried vegetables were equally delicious, and the Chianti slid down her throat far too easily. The idea of getting too drunk to think seemed appealing, but she’d never been much of a drinker, and one glass of wine was already making her head spin, which made her realize the last thing she needed was more head spinning.

  As she finished eating, she glanced over at J.T., noting the smile playing across his lips, the knowing gleam in his eyes. “You’re looking awfully satisfied with yourself.”

  “I am satisfied,” he replied.

  “You were right about the food. I needed a good meal.”

  “That’s not why I’m satisfied.”

  “Then what is making you smile?”

  “You. You’re back. And I’m very happy to see you.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “You were like a zombie before. You almost got yourself killed, running into the street that way. You scared the crap out of me.”

  The worry in his brown eyes, the fact that he’d admitted he was scared, touched her deeply. “I’m sorry. I was in shock.”

  “I know. But next time run to me, not away from me.”

  “I haven’t had anyone to run to in a long time. I’m not sure I know how to do that. And frankly, I’m a little surprised you’d suggest it. You don’t seem the type to want anyone to cling to you.”

  “I want to keep you safe. It’s my job,” he added.

  “Sure, your job, right. That’s all it is, isn’t it?” She searched his eyes, wishing she could read his expression better, but he was very good at hiding his feelings.

  “Let’s not do this,” he said. “There’s too much going on to get into...”

  “Into us?” she queried when he didn’t finish his sentence.

  “Yeah,” he said, lifting his glass to his lips. He took his time drinking the wine. He was probably hoping she’d change the subject.

  “I’m not asking you for anything,” she told him.

  “I know.”

  “Okay, good.” She played with her fork, frustrated and restless with the conversation she wanted to have but couldn’t because J.T. had thrown up a big wall. Not that talking about what was happening between them was going to help matters; it would probably just complicate everything. He was right about that.

  She was a little afraid to know what he was thinking, because she was falling for
him. And she was worried that he didn’t feel the same way, that it was just an adrenaline-charged fling for him. To be fair, it had started out that way for her, too. Physical attraction, chemistry, danger -- boom, they’d fallen into bed without deeper emotions, but now the deeper emotions were there, too, not to mention the chemistry, and despite her earlier venting about the damn stupidity of love, she suspected she was experiencing that very emotion.

  “Do you want dessert?” J.T. asked casually, oblivious to her turbulent thoughts.

  “No,” she said shortly. “I’m done.” She took her napkin and threw it on the table.

  “Now you’re mad,” he said with a sigh. “I should have seen that coming. Whenever a woman wants to talk, it’s never a good thing.”

  She frowned at him, not liking the cynical generalization. “Don’t compare me to other women.”

  “Look, Christina, we’re in the middle of a...a mess. It’s not a good time to dissect what’s going on between us.”

  “So you’re happy to just have sex and not ask questions. Gee, I should have seen that coming,” she said with sarcasm, repeating his earlier words.

  “You’re pissed off at your father. Don’t take it out on me.”

  “This has nothing to do with my father.”

  “It has everything to do with your dad, and you know it. Why don’t you figure out your feelings about him before you come after me?”

  She wanted to argue that he was completely wrong, but in all honesty she couldn’t. She was confused about her parents. She was tired of being in relationships that didn’t quite make sense, that didn’t follow the rules. She’d grown up with a man she couldn’t really count on. And it scared her that she was falling in love with the same kind of man. Not that J.T. was a thief, but he was a loner, an agent, a guy who lived on the road. Did she really want that?

  “I need more wine,” she said with a sigh.

  “No, you don’t. You need to let things simmer. You don’t have to answer everything tonight.”

  “This from the man who doesn’t want to answer anything.”

  “You want an answer -- I’ll give you one,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I like you. I like sleeping with you. I like making love to you. Do I have any idea where this going or where I want it to go? No. I’m lousy at relationships. Everyone I’ve ever loved has been disappointed in me. I’ve already failed at one marriage. I don’t know if I want to try it again. I’ve never been a good loser.”

  She was so startled by his bluntness she wasn’t quite sure how to react. “That was more than one answer,” she said finally.

  “Can we change the subject now?”

  “I think that would be a good idea,” she said, drawing a deep breath. She needed time to think about what he’d just said.

  J.T. waved the waiter over and handed him his credit card.

  While they were waiting for the bill, she said, “You never told me what happened with you and Vittorio. Did he know I was in the house? Did he ask you about me?”

  “No, we didn’t talk about you or Isabella. But Vittorio did tell me that the diamond is cursed and he sent it to you on purpose.”

  “Why? He wanted to curse me, too?”

  “He thinks you have de Médici blood in you, and if you touched the stone it would take the curse away. Then you would sell it for him, and he’d get lots of curse-free cash. To hell with whoever bought the cursed stone. That wouldn’t be his problem.”

  “Why would he think that I have de Médici blood? The Albertis are not descended from...” She paused. “Oh. I get it. He was talking about Isabella’s bloodline, wasn’t he?”

  “Now that I know your relationship to Isabella, that makes sense,” J.T. agreed.

  “What else did he say about the curse?”

  “Nothing. Just that Catherine de Médici put some hex on the stone.”

  “So Catherine de Médici is the key -- where the diamond came from, maybe where it belongs,” she mused. “That’s it. That’s the clue. My dad wants to give the diamond back to Catherine.”

  “And how would he do that? Hasn’t she been dead for several hundred years? Is your father into grave digging?”

  She frowned. “Not that I know of, but I’m not sure I could discount it. However, I think it’s more likely that the stone belongs somewhere else or with someone else. At least we can narrow our search to Catherine. Maybe I can find more information about the diamond in one of the libraries here. They could have old letters, texts. If the diamond came down through my mother’s family, then that would explain why my father thinks Vittorio stole the diamond.”

  “Vittorio was married to your mother. That’s hardly theft.”

  “True, but that wouldn’t matter to my father if he believed the stone belonged somewhere else. You said Vittorio sent me the stone to get rid of the curse. That’s why he picked Barclay’s, and why the Kensingtons insisted that I wear it at the party,” she said, putting more pieces of the puzzle together. “Vittorio had asked that it be displayed on a live model -- on me. What did he think -- that I had some magic power over the diamond?” Even as she asked the question, she remembered the strange, tingly sensation that had run through her body when the stone had touched her skin.

  “I don’t know. I also wonder how he could be certain that you didn’t know about your mother or the diamond or the curse. Your father could have told you all of it at any time.”

  “You’re right,” she murmured. Had the men made some sort of pact? Her stomach turned over at the thought. What right had either of them to keep her from knowing the truth about her birth?

  “And what about Vittorio’s sons?” J.T. asked. “Why couldn’t they get rid of the curse? They have Isabella’s blood in their veins as well.”

  “Maybe it’s a female thing; the diamond has to be passed down through the women.”

  J.T. raised an eyebrow at that. “Sounds like a lot of hocus-pocus to me. Do you really believe in curses?”

  “I’m not a disbeliever,” she prevaricated. “I’ve studied many legendary jewels. There have been unexplainable incidents. I keep an open mind. At any rate, we need to go back to the Benedetti house. I bet Maria knows more about the diamond, the curse, and my mother. She said she’d been with Isabella since she was a baby. And she’s been with Vittorio ever since my mother died. If anyone knows the secrets in that house, it’s Maria.”

  “We’ll go tomorrow.”

  “Not tonight? I thought you were a man on a mission.”

  “A tired man,” he admitted with a small smile. “And I’d like to take a few minutes to think, put together a plan of attack.”

  “You’re right. It’s been a long couple of days.” She paused as music began to play and couples made their way to the nearby dance floor. The music was soft and inviting, romantic. She couldn’t stop the impulsive question that sprang from her lips. “Would you like to dance?”

  J.T. couldn’t have looked more shocked if she’d asked him to jump off a cliff. “Dance?” he sputtered. “I don’t know how to dance.”

  “It’s not the tango. You put your arms around me and we sway a little.”

  “I’ll step on your feet.”

  “I’ll take the risk.”

  “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes, please.” The look of discomfort on his face made her laugh. But she knew how to get him in the right frame of mind. She leaned forward and said quietly, “Just think of it as foreplay.”

  “Now you’re talking. I will get credit for this later on, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  * * *

  It turned out that he didn’t want the credit, even though she was willing to give it to him. Making love to Christina was not something to be rushed. When they got back to the hotel, J.T. took his time undressing her, slowing down her hands when she reached for him with an eagerness that made him smile. He liked that she didn’t play hard-to-get, that there weren’t any games between them. He hadn’t been able to give
her the answers she wanted at the restaurant. He hadn’t been able to tell her with words what she meant to him, but tonight he could show her.

  He pulled her shirt over her head and undid the front clasp of her bra, slowly pulling it apart, taking a moment to savor the sight of her beautiful breasts. He skimmed the tips with his palms, feeling her shudder with pleasure. Then he ran his hands down her stomach. He unsnapped her jeans, slid down the zipper, and slipped his hands inside, his fingers tracing the shape of her buttocks as he helped her off with her pants. He loved the feel of her ass, so soft, so round, so perfect for his hands, for his body. He grabbed the strap of her thong underwear and sent the tiny scrap of material to the floor. Sliding his fingers into the nest of curls at her thighs, he explored the tender folds, loving the way she whispered his name and moved into him, rubbing her breasts against his chest, her hips into his rapidly hardening groin.

  He kissed her on the mouth as he explored her with his fingers. Her tongue danced with his, demanding that he go deeper in every way. He could feel the tension growing in her body. He wanted to draw it out, to torture her -- to make each moment count, each kiss, each caress. He increased the pressure with his fingers, at the same time dropping his mouth to her breast, encircling the nipple with his tongue, teasing and tugging until she came apart in his arms, crying out his name.

  She reached for the hem of his shirt, ruthlessly tugging it over his head, her hands once again urgent, needy. This time he didn’t try to stop her, didn’t try to slow her down or prevent her from touching him, cupping him, stroking him.

  He didn’t know how they made it to the bed, how he had enough of a brain left to reach for a condom, or enough patience to let Christina roll it on to him as she pressed him back against the bed and straddled his legs, sinking down on him with a sigh of pure pleasure.

  If he’d known a dance could lead to this, he would have started dancing a long time ago.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Christina was sitting on the bed, wearing only a robe, when J.T. came out of the bathroom the next morning with a short towel wrapped around his hips. The smattering of fine, dark hair on his chest was still damp from his shower. Beads of water clung to his face. He was a handsome man, and incredibly sexy. Christina couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she thought about the night they’d shared. Her body felt deliciously tired, sore, satisfied.