by Sylvie Kurtz
“He found success and great satisfaction in his work.”
“Became his work.”
He raised his head, put a finger under her chin and tilted it up until their gazes met, his so fervent and hot, it took her breath away. “But still something was missing.”
“What?” she croaked, afraid of his answer.
“He didn’t know what it was. It kept itching at him and itching at him that there had to be something more. Then he saw her and he knew. The princess of his dreams. Sketching with a passion that ignited a knowing he needed her to balance his life.”
He frowned, showing her hurt and unguarded candor. All she’d seen six years ago was the unshatterable confidence he’d exuded, the potent attraction of his self-assurance. And needing those things she could not find in herself, she’d yielded to him, opened to him, become much too vulnerable—until the thing that had attracted her to him had made her turn away.
“No, not me,” she said, shaking her head. “You didn’t need me.”
“Yes, you.” He kissed her then, just as he had that first time six years ago, with heat and passion and an uncommon tenderness she could not defend against. She became annealed silver, soft and pliable, ready for him to mold any way he desired.
“The prince loved the princess with all his heart, all his soul,” he whispered in her ear, emotion choking his words. “Whenever he thought of the future, he always saw her in it. They would find a castle of their own, and eventually share it with a few princes and princesses. She was his hope.”
“She didn’t know.” She drew closer, kissed his cheek, his ear, his neck.
“The prince couldn’t understand why the princess would send him away. He thought she shared his dream.”
“She did,” Juliana said, lifting up from his chest, seeking his gaze, scrunching the material of his shirt in her hands. “But she thought the prince couldn’t see past ruling his kingdom and his people.”
The look in his eyes was so sad, her heart gave a lurch.
“The prince had never had to ask for anything before. He didn’t know how to hold his princess. So he let her go, immersed himself in his kingdom. And got lost.”
“Oh, Lucas.” She twined her arms around his neck, and hugged him fiercely, and did what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do, she cried tears of regret.
“I still don’t know how to hold you, Jewel.”
His words fanned across her ear, shaky and raw. You have me, her heart wept. You always did. You always will. But fear was older than love, had the stronger voice. “Could you really stay in one place?”
“Could you ever trust me to?”
A low hum permeated the room through the buzz in her mind. Her thoughts ran in circles, ending where they began.
“I don’t know,” she said because she owed him honesty. She sank against him, felt him withdraw.
As he got up, the mattress creaked. “Try to get some sleep.”
He took his warmth with him. And hers. Loneliness pierced through her, sharp and swift.
“Lucas. Stay.”
He reached for his laptop on the other bed. “I’ll be right here, doing some research.”
She lifted the sheet and invited him in. “No, stay.”
He stood there unmoving, his body lean and taut, the light from the lamp a halo around his head. His fingers curled into fists by his side.
“I want you, Jewel,” he said, his voice smoky with desire. “I want to get lost in you. I want to see you fall apart for me.”
The truth of his words appeared in the warm depth of his eyes, in the guarded tension of his body, in the unmistakable strain of his erection beneath his jeans. And she wanted him, too. Wanted what they’d once shared. “Yes.”
Still he didn’t move.
“I want you today and tomorrow and the day after that. But trust, you’ll have to find on your own.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
For tonight, she would let herself believe in happy endings.
* * *
She was beautiful in the room’s low light. Her skin looked as smooth as marble, but infinitely more warm with its soft golden glow. The wise thing to do would be to walk away, to go out that hotel door, and leave her behind. She was frightened. She was stressed. She needed reassurance, not sex.
But he didn’t. He dropped his laptop on the empty bed, shed his clothes and lay beside her, drawing her pliable body against his, molding her to him. A sigh weaved with satisfaction through his body.
He meant to kiss her forehead, start slow, but found her mouth instead, felt it part beneath his, welcome him, and could not stop himself from deepening the kiss. She tasted of peaches and brandy. She felt warm and yielding. She smelled of roses and jasmine… and home.
How long he’d waited for this, wanted this, dreamed of this.
He wanted her now. Fiercely. Primaly.
Instead, he pulled away. She clung to him, question and emotion swirling in her eyes. Those wonderful eyes that always turned deep, deep blue when her passion ran high. Mood rings, he’d once joked. He could read them as easily now as he had then. So open, she was when aroused. She had loved him; she loved him still. In that moment he understood her fear. Being that open left a lot of room for hurt.
“Juliana,” he started, but wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. “I’ll be there.”
She shook her head. In her eyes, he saw the gleam of uncertainty. “No promises.”
But without promises, how was she to learn to trust? “I’ll be there.”
He kissed her again, sealing his vow. Slowly, gently, tenderly. Sweet sounds purred from low in her throat, fueling his ache to possess her. “I’ll always be there.”
He grabbed the hem of her fleece shirt, yanked it over her head, and discarded it over his shoulder. With equal ease he slipped the fleece pants off. His gaze took in the length of unveiled skin. Her nipples pearled under his scrutiny as if he’d caressed them. He couldn’t pass up the invitation, so he bent and tasted the hard buds, the rich creamy skin surrounding them, and moaned at the rediscovered pleasure.
His hands relearned the hills and valleys of her, his mouth the taste and texture of her. His fingers found the honeyed center of her. Her hot, flowing readiness made him quiver with anticipation.
He stroked her, reveled in the heady soft sounds she made. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, driving him a little closer to madness. His heartbeat drummed hard inside him. Sweat slicked his skin. She touched him where he longed to be touched, and he thought he would shatter from the exquisite torture of her caress.
She was liquefying under him, melting, so responsive. Arms wound around his neck, she kissed him with wild abandon, provoking a primitive answer. One of her legs curled around his, pressing him closer. Her hips rose to meet him, demanding. And when she whispered his name in a raw rasp of need against his ear, he could no longer control his fierce craving. He fit himself to her, thrust deep inside.
She was his, only his.
They found their rhythm. Two lost souls connecting, spiraling into the dark void of pleasure. He was in her. She was in him. They became one with the night and the golden light and the sensual delight.
He was home where he belonged.
When they were spent and she slept peacefully nestled in his arms, he found the calm contentment he’d lost for six years.
Into that space of profound comfort slithered an eel of disquiet. Willy had used Juliana and Briana because he’d somehow known they would have an emotional hold on him. Willy was still calculating, manipulating even though the situation was falling apart around him. And when he was cornered, where would he turn to for leverage? To the one place it would hurt the most.
To hold Juliana, Lucas would have to let her go. She would have to trust his promise.
Cradling her closer, he was suddenly terrified of losing her forever.
Chapter 16
The next morning Luc
as had Juliana call Louis Bickman to have him deliver the replica at the hotel. They sat at the small table, the remnants of breakfast pushed to one side. Thick clouds scudded across the sky, turning the table top into an ever-changing kaleidoscope of sunlight and shadows. He sipped coffee. She carefully cut through the box’s packing tape.
“It’s beautiful,” she said with awe as she took the jewel out of the box, examining every facet of it. “Louis did a wonderful job.”
Lucas took the brooch from her and nodded his approval. “The flaw’s barely visible. Willy will have to look for it. It’ll seem more real, more important.”
“What about the original Nadyenka Sapphire? How will you get it back?”
He handed the brooch back to her, touching her with the barest stroke of flesh on flesh, saw her shiver with pleasure, and smiled a satisfied inward smile. “There are a couple dozen valuable jewels missing from various collections. When we find them, we’ll find the Sapphire, too.”
She cleared her throat, pinned the brooch back in its leather jeweler’s box. “Couldn’t he have sold the jewels to private buyers?”
“Not likely. They would surface. Some wife or girlfriend would insist on wearing her prize in public. Word would get around. No, he keeps them for himself.”
“How can you be sure?”
He shrugged. Some things he just couldn’t explain. He simply knew that when they found the Phantom’s hiding spot, they would unearth enough jewels to fill a pirate’s treasure chest.
“What do we do next?” With care, she rewrapped the packing box.
“We wait for his call.” He drained his coffee, grabbed to the pot to refill his cup, and found the carafe empty. “Then I’m going to call the Boston field office.”
Her gaze snapped up to meet his. She understood enough about his situation to realize doing so would put another notch against him in his file. The worry etching on her face touched him.
“We’re going to get him this time,” he said, wanting to reassure her. “I promise, Jewel. We’re going to get him.”
“Yes, I know you will.” She offered him a weak smile.
Was that the beginning of trust? He looked into his empty cup, toyed with the idea of ordering another pot of coffee, then rejected it. Now came the moment of truth. Dare he shake her fledgling trust? He had no choice.
“I want you to join Briana at the lake house.”
Shaking her head, she got up and paced. “No, I won’t put Briana in any jeopardy until the Phantom is caught. I won’t risk him following me there and using her or me to get to you.”
“We’ll wait until he calls. He’ll be more interested in getting the stone than in tailing you.”
She stopped, gave him an incredulous look, then tread the carpet once more. “You have it all figured out, don’t you?”
He stilled her impatient pacing with a hand on her wrist. Her pulse bumped against the pad of his fingers strong and fast. “I’ve caused one woman’s death already. I won’t be responsible for yours, too.”
She stared at him thunderstruck. “Cindy’s death isn’t your fault.”
“I let Willy trick me into a wild goose chase while he tracked her down and murdered her.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I should have known.” He’d followed the man, been in his thoughts, understood him more than he understood himself, yet he’d missed this important shift in perception. Willy was on a fast downward slide. Everything that stood in his way was in mortal danger.
“You know who he is because you followed that lead.”
“I could have called for backup, but didn’t.” He looked at her straight and true. He’d spilled his feelings to her last night. Now he would give her his fears. “I wanted to protect you from a second interview, so I didn’t call.”
Her mouth parted in realization of what he’d done. After a long, penetrating look, her gaze shifted downward and she capitulated. “Okay, I’ll go.”
“I’ll be there when you get back.”
She nodded, turned away.
“Look at me, Jewel.”
Her eyes swirled with shades of panic and passion. She was afraid of her feelings, of his promise, of an uncertain future. Of more hurt.
“I’m going to make a life with you and with Briana.” He pulled her toward him, drew her into his arms, kissed her parted lips. She was warm, and soft, and though she tried, she could not hide the heated responses he stirred in her. He wanted to take her to bed, make love to her until she believed without reservation. But that would have to wait. He framed her face with both his hands and willed her to understand what she meant to him. “I love you, Jewel.”
Eyes bright with moisture, she moved away from him, packed her overnight bag with her discarded fleece, added a sweater over her long-sleeved T-shirt.
“I’ll rent a car,” she said, holding her bag’s handle with both hands. “Just in case.”
“I’ll call you.”
She nodded, and as she turned away to leave, shades of hope flickered in those blue, blue eyes.
He would not let her down.
* * *
He was too late.
“We did the best we could,” the vet had said when Will had reached the animal hospital yesterday. “She was too far gone.”
Cancer, they’d said. The kindest thing. She was too old to operate.
“Who asked you to euthanatize her?” he’d bellowed. And they’d shown him Cindy’s spidery signature. Of course. The sow.
She’d paid for her betrayal. A life for a life.
Not that it did him any good. Even Cindy’s deserved death wouldn’t bring Bijou back.
With a swipe of his arms, Will shoved everything off the rental’s kitchen counter. Flour, sugar, coffee canisters crashed to the floor, spewing their contents over the paisley tiles.
“It’s all your fault, Vassilovich! You planted those lies into her head. Cruel, she called me. Uncaring. Freedom, she said you offered her. What does she know about freedom? What does she know about feelings? What does she know about anything?”
One by one clean dishes from the drain shattered, punctuating his words.
“I’ll teach you! This time, you’ll understand! We’ll see if you’re so special then!”
When he was through with the counters, he attacked the cabinets, thrashing their contents. Glasses, plates, provisions. They all fell in time to the roar of his rage.
By the time his rage was spent, the cupboard doors stood askew, the shelves empty. The splintered outcome of his temper covered the floor. Sweat streaked down his face. His breath came in heavy pants.
Crunching across the floor, he calmed, ignoring the chaos under his feet.
He’d tried understanding. He’d tried explaining. He’d even tried to give the bastard a gift. A jewel for a jewel. What had he gotten for his efforts? Dense stupidity!
There was only one thing left to do.
Show by example.
He extricated a pet catalog from under a mountain of noodles and dented cans. He leafed through the pages until he found what he wanted. Dialing the number, he felt serene for the first time since he’d come back to find his beloved Bijou gone.
“I’d like to place an order. Item D-6590, the oval headstone, inscribed with ‘Bijou, Beloved Friend.’” He gave the details the operator asked for. “Yes, that’s all. Thank you.”
He punched in another number. “Four o’clock, Special Agent Vassilovich. Your house. Place the Sapphire on your living room coffee table. Stay. We’ll have a nice chat. And please, no tricks. I know them all by now. I assure you, no matter what you do, you can’t win this time.”
Without giving his detested pursuer a chance to reply, Will cut the connection.
From the window came a stream of sunlight. An omen. Today he would triumph. Then a vacation. To the Caribbean, maybe. Golden sun and emerald surf. Or a cruise. Yes, with their balls and shows and rich captive audience, a cruise would be perfect. That was the ticket.
He stroked the fire opal in his pocket, a lover’s caress, felt his strength returning, and smiled.
“You should have just enough time to get your little soldiers in place.” Reaching for his make-up case, Willy sneered. “So predictable!”
Industriously, he created his vision, and as he applied the last touch, deep brown contacts, he nodded with satisfaction.
“Perfect.”
Before he headed out the door, he retrieved the rejected Sapphire from beneath the refrigerator, and scooped up the small brass urn containing Bijou’s remains.
“Don’t worry, old girl. He’ll pay.”
* * *
Juliana batted at tears as she drove to the lake. Her feelings rollercoastered from joy to despair, from hope to bone-shaking fear. She wanted to believe Lucas loved her, wanted to believe he would keep his promise, wanted to believe in the future.
The past had taught her that only she could take care of herself, take charge of her life, direct her future. Love was fragile, easily broken and shattered. Love couldn’t be trusted. It was temporary. And painful. Why then did it have such a strong pull?
She didn’t want him, didn’t want to love Lucas, didn’t want him to have such power over the health of her heart.
Then the lake house loomed on the horizon, memories growing stronger as the stone buildings became clearer, adding complicated, intricate dimensions to her internal turmoil.
When she came to a stop in the driveway, she dropped her head to the steering wheel, closed her eyes, and fought to regain control before she went in to hug her daughter.
Five minutes of listening to the chatter of finches in the oak trees, of feeling the spring breeze rustle the red and yellow tulips in the flower bed, of smelling freshly turned earth had settled her nerves and made her eager to find Briana and take her down to the lake to scout for pretty stones to polish.
She beamed. Briana would love that. Maybe she would make them a picnic lunch. Ham sandwiches, peanut butter cookies, and hot chocolate in a thermos. Just like her mother used to make.
Hiking her purse over her shoulder, she headed for the front door. As she knocked, she laughed. Asking for admittance in a home that had once been hers felt strange. She could still see herself screeching out the front door, her brother bent on revenge at her heels.
