Love Unlocked

by Libby Waterford

  His thoughts went to Eve, and how he’d started to get his hand back, slowly but steadily, in the days since she’d come into his life. Some long dormant sense in him was slowly waking. He could smell the paint, see the palette, envision the portrait coming alive under his brush. That was the strangest thing of all. He’d never imagined himself as a portrait painter. He was an abstract artist, pure and simple. His technique was free and open, suited to the large scale, colorful abstracts he specialized in. He could imagine painting Eve in tight, controlled strokes so he could have a better shot at capturing the essence of her on canvas. Something told him he could do it, if he let himself.

  It had been terrifying to think he might never paint again, but he’d tried to come to terms with it. With the sense of a beginning out there, he was even more petrified. Yet, the more he thought about delving into a new artistic mode, the more excited he became. Stephanie would have loved it. He could paint her, too, from memory and photographs. It might be liberating to try his hand at capturing the innate goodness that his sister had embodied.

  These thoughts kept him busy as he strolled down the aisles of auction items. There were the usual suspects—spa packages, dinners at fancy restaurants, surfing lessons. That one might be fun. He’d surfed a lot in his youth, but went out only occasionally lately. Did Eve surf? He wondered what she’d look like in a wetsuit, or preferably with him slowly taking the wetsuit off of her….

  “Oh my god, Hudson Cleary, the last person I expected to see!”

  He swiveled his head in the direction of the woman’s voice. When he saw her, he placed that southern purr instantly.

  “Katrina,” he said, mustering up a smile. “How are you?”

  “I’m divine! The question is, how are you?”

  The accent matched Katrina Van Holt’s looks. She was honey blonde, with curves hugged by a shimmery red dress, lips and talons painted to match. She’d been dating his agent when he lived in New York.

  “I’m still kicking,” he said noncommittally. Katrina was known for sharing every tidbit of news that came her way. It wouldn’t do to have anything about his life making the rounds of the art circuit.

  “I can see that,” she said, sweeping an appreciative glance down his body. “I didn’t know you were such a big supporter of the museum.”

  “I didn’t know you were gracing the west coast with your presence.”

  “New York is tired. A girl needs sunshine and palm trees for a change. I’m living in L.A. What about you?”

  He sidestepped the direct question with one of his own. “So I guess you and old Stewart weren’t meant to be.”

  “Oh honey, I’m surprised you haven’t heard. Stewart eloped with some twenty-two-year-old gallery assistant last year. That’s when I decided a change of scene would do me good.”

  Hudson winced. His agent had never had good taste in women, but they’d been close once and it pained him to think he’d been so out of touch.

  “Ah, I must have missed the announcement,” he said, taking a step back.

  Katrina moved in closer. The ballroom was crowded, but not so crowded that the “accidental” bump of her breasts against his arm could be chalked up to pushing and shoving. “Well, I’m sure I could catch you right up on everything that’s been going on. Want to get out of here and buy me a drink?”

  He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do less. He still had Eve’s subtle perfume in his nose, and was on a mission to see her fulfill her end of their bargain. To do that, they had to get through this ridiculous trial by fire. He had other things on his mind than a gossipy flirt from his past.

  As if by instinct, he turned his head to see Eve coming back into the room. She was searching the crowd, looking for him. He hoped she’d gotten what she needed so they could get the hell out of here.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to make sure I get in my bid for the trip to Paris,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as rude as he felt like being.

  Katrina puckered her mouth into a pout and gave him a smacking kiss on the lips. She pressed a rectangle of cardboard into his hand. “Here’s my card. Call me.”

  He mumbled goodbye and practically ran in the opposite direction. Eve was no longer by the doorway. She was gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Objectively, Hudson was an extremely attractive man. Women like the blonde poured into the shimmery red cocktail dress would always find a way to cross paths with him if they wanted a piece of him for themselves. Hudson clearly knew the Barbie doll, or else she wouldn’t have had to witness them kissing full on the mouth. But she wasn’t jealous—all right, she wasn’t very jealous—and that bothered her. She knew Hudson well enough by now that she could tell he wasn’t into the blonde and that he had in no way invited the kiss. Even though there had been nothing stated about their relationship, even though they both might deny they even had a relationship, she trusted Hudson not to screw around with another woman while he was with her. She trusted him, period. It was a struggle to keep from falling in love with him every second that she spent with him. That scared her more than anything else that had happened in the last week. Being with him meant she might be able to share some of her burden, to heal some of her old wounds. Even though she’d come to Chelsea for a fresh start, she’d done so more to heal the past than pretend it had never happened.

  Now that she trusted Hudson with her life, was she brave enough to extend that trust to her heart?

  She shook off the notion. Not the time for introspection. She had to act. She’d get this job finished, then examine what could be salvaged of her mess of a life.

  While figuring out the layout of this wing of the mansion, she’d started formulating a plan. It would be fairly simple. She might not even need Hudson when she returned later that night to steal the painting.

  They should take their leave of the party and make their preparations for the final stage of this escapade.

  She tracked him down by the dance floor, where he was scanning the room. He broke into a smile when he spotted her. Warmth blossomed in her belly, and she smiled back despite her tension. She pushed the feeling away to savor later.

  “Hey,” he said, his eyes glinting at her approach.

  Her skin tingled as he ran his gaze up and down her body. He’d commented favorably upon her ensemble back at the hotel, but with two glasses of champagne under his belt, his perusal was more intense, more purposeful. She knew what he was thinking, having seen him in action.

  “Have I told you that you look stunning tonight?” he said in his sexy growl.

  “No. But earlier, you said I looked beautiful.”

  “You’re stunningly beautiful.”

  Eve tried not to be embarrassed about the heat creeping over her cheeks. She was a grown woman; she could take praise from anyone. From Hudson, though, the compliment was more like a come on.

  He placed one large, warm hand over her hip and drew her in closer. The warmth of the flush on her cheeks deepened and seemed to spread over her entire body.

  “I love this dress.” He fingered the soft midnight blue fabric, a couple of fingers straying distractingly close to her ass.

  “Thanks.” The word came out breathy and needy. Heat radiated from her core, and even though there were probably a hundred people in their immediate vicinity, the way Hudson was looking at her made her feel like they were the only two people in the cavernous room.

  They stood there for a long minute, his hand branding her hip, her skin burning up from his touch. There was something she was supposed to tell him, something they were supposed to do. It took the emcee’s voice announcing the close of the silent auction for her to clear her head and remember they were not on a date, and they had more pressing agenda items than staring into each other’s eyes.

  She stepped back. “I need to talk to you. I think I know what we’re going to do.”

  “Dance with me,” he said as the band started playing a familiar love song.

  “Hudson
, we’ve got to talk,” she said, but she didn’t pull away from the pressure of his hand on her.

  “So let’s talk and dance. You can do two things at the same time, right?” He encircled her with his arms before she could respond.

  Several other couples swirled around them, but there was plenty of room between them and the others. No danger of being overheard. Still, Eve allowed herself a few moments of swaying to the music, her frame enveloped in Hudson’s strong, capable arms. She let herself enjoy the casual but confident way he moved her around the floor before she gathered her thoughts and got him up to speed.

  “I think I’ve found a good way in and out. Getting the video cameras offline is no problem, but once I do, the clock will be ticking, so everything has to run smoothly. I don’t think they’ll have actual security inside the room. They might have a patrol. I’ll deal with that if I have to. Once I’m inside, and the cameras are offline, it will take me about a minute to get the painting and get back outside. I was thinking you could drive me here and have the car waiting. We’ll be gone before they even realize the painting is missing.”

  Hudson was silent. She swallowed. He probably thought she was insane.

  “It sounds dangerous, Eve.”

  “I’ve faced worse.”

  His face took on a stern expression and he tightened his grip on her. “I’m not going to think about that right now.”

  Since she understood the sentiment, she nodded. She tucked her head against his chest, sure that anyone watching them would see her feelings for this man in her body language, but not caring anymore. He held her closer, and started humming along to the music.

  “This will be over soon,” she said, as if to convince herself. “And then we’ll need to talk, for real.”

  “Yes.”

  He seemed to hold her even tighter. She didn’t want the song to end. While they were swaying to the music, she could pretend that all they had to worry about was being sober enough to drive back to their hotel.

  “So let’s get it over with,” he said, his voice no longer dreamy.

  She was jarred out of her reverie. “What do you mean?”

  “The painting. Let’s take it now.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “There’s no time like the present.” He’d stopped leading her to the rhythm of the music.

  “I’ve heard that, but one doesn’t pull off something like this on the spur of the moment.”

  “Why not? We’ve got the element of surprise.”

  “Once the painting is found missing, we will have a very short window in which to get the hell out of here, and people have seen us. I didn’t really count on you being recognized. We need to have plausible deniability. If we have alibis, without physical evidence, then we’re home free.”

  “Then I’ll be your alibi. You can get the painting, the same way you planned as before, but you’re already inside. When they start announcing the silent auction winners, everyone will be here in the ballroom. There won’t be any witnesses.”

  “How exactly will you be my alibi?”

  “Follow my lead,” he said, and then he kissed her.

  His lips tasted dry like champagne. She was unprepared for the sheer physicality of the kiss, and she stumbled backward as Hudson’s tongue, salty with the tang of caviar, drove into her mouth. His hands cupped her ass and squeezed her close to him. He moaned loudly. The first few seconds of shock gave way to a primitive heat and then to understanding. She leaned forward into him, matching his moan with one of her own. She could feel heads turning their way, and she reminded herself there was no need to be embarrassed. She had done crazier things in her line of work.

  They clung to each other, hands roving, and then Hudson nipped her neck with his teeth. She gasped and cried out, “You animal, can’t you wait until we get home?”

  “I can’t wait a second longer,” he replied, his voice loud enough for the couples nearest them to hear clearly, his words slightly slurred.

  She giggled. “Baby, we’re in public!”

  “Then let’s go somewhere private,” he returned, and manhandled her in the direction of the bathrooms. They pawed at each other with enough conspicuousness that they’d be remembered, with disgust by some, with admiration by others.

  Hudson yanked her into the bathroom as they heard over the sound system that the auction results were about to be announced. The hallway outside was deserted, but he made a show of grunts and rustles for verisimilitude.

  While he kept up the sound effects, Eve checked her bag to make sure she had all the necessary equipment, including her lock picks and her wireless jammer. She’d packed a revolver in there, too, but she hoped she wouldn’t need to use it.

  “Give me your jacket,” she whispered, and Hudson shrugged out of it, giving her a chance to ogle his muscles as they rippled underneath his fine white dress shirt. “If everything goes according to plan, I’ll stow the painting in the car and meet you back here.”

  “How long do you think it will take?”

  “Five, six minutes?” Eve guessed. “If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, then things have gone south. You rejoin the party, and I’ll make my own way back to the hotel.”

  “I think I can keep up the charade for that long.”

  “I should hope so. I’m not that easy.”

  He smiled at her, then let out a moan as she opened the door a crack. The hallway was empty.

  “Eve,” he said, as she prepared to slip out. “Be careful.”

  “I will,” she said, and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

  He let out a loud sigh of ecstasy.

  “Save some of that for me later.” She shut the door.

  The corridors were empty, but she still trod carefully. She put her hair up into a quick twist and donned Hudson’s jacket. Hopefully, if anyone saw her, they wouldn’t immediately recognize her as his date. Everyone was in the ballroom, listening to the winners of the auction items and awaiting a speech from the host. She found the hallway she’d scouted earlier and pulled her picks from her purse.

  She’d thought Hudson was crazy when he suggested they take the painting right then, but the opportunity was tempting, and the desire to have this all behind them too great. The adrenaline would see her through and she didn’t think she’d be much better prepared several hours from then.

  Hudson surprised her. He couldn’t approve of what she was going to do, and she couldn’t fault him. Yet, once he’d agreed to help, he was completely committed. He did things like that. All the way. Whether helping her commit theft, giving up his calling to atone for some imagined sin, or making love to her, he was an all or nothing kind of guy.

  She counted the doorways and came to the one she thought was right. It took her twenty nerve-racking seconds to pick the lock, but it finally snicked open. No one had come down the hall, and she didn’t see any camera in this area. She had no way of knowing if the door she’d opened was wired to a security system, but she’d be tampering with the video feed momentarily anyway, which would alert the guards something was wrong.

  Before she opened the door, she prayed there would be no one taking the opportunity for a quiet moment with the Mondrian. Then she switched on the wireless jammer, which would disrupt the camera feed to the central security area.

  There was no going back. She either left with the painting or in handcuffs—and John would pay the price.

  She took a deep breath and swung the door open.

  ***

  Hudson was sweating through his fine linen shirt. He’d never been this nervous in his life, not even right before the opening of his first solo gallery show.

  He felt like a fool each time he let out a fake moan of ecstasy. Bathroom sex had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that he was enacting it, alone, it seemed silly and way too easy to get caught.

  What if Eve didn’t come back and someone saw him come out of the bathroom alone? His mortification wouldn’t be half as bad as his worry over Eve. She was ou
t there by herself doing God knows what to appease some crazy art thief.

  Eve was an art thief, too, he reminded himself. She’d done things that were immoral, illegal. He saw past that to the vulnerable woman she was underneath. She was trying to get away, trying to start over. She was doing this to save John from Deacon. Hudson could only hope that if—no, when—they got the painting, Deacon would be satisfied and let them all go their separate ways.

  Then Eve would be truly free to start her life over, if that’s what she wanted. He wondered if there would be a place for him in it.

  His life had been on hold ever since Stephanie died. It had seemed like the only thing to do at the time was to sequester himself, to try to make up for the fact that he wasn’t there for her when she really needed him, never mind that she hadn’t told him he was needed.

  The painter’s block was but one symptom of a larger issue. He’d been avoiding his real life, hiding in Chelsea, putting off his career and the idea of settling down with a wife, maybe starting on the family he always assumed he’d have one day. He was thirty-four years old, and not a kid anymore. Maybe he’d used Stephanie’s death as an excuse to hold onto his youth for a little bit longer.

  He knew what she’d say to that. She would have cuffed him on the shoulder and demanded to know when he’d be making some more nieces and nephews for her to spoil.

  Eve had shown him that life was meant to be truly lived. She might have an unorthodox way of fully living, but he couldn’t argue that what they were doing right then didn’t make him feel alive. Seeing her in action, in sexy cat thief mode, was beyond hot. He’d had trouble focusing on the tasks at hand tonight when her luscious body was right in front of him and the need to finally have her grew out of control.

  She turned up his thermostat until his blood ran like lava through his veins.

  He moaned again. This line of thinking was getting him back into character.

  ***

  Eve held her breath, peering into the chamber that held the painting. A middle-aged man was walking away from the wall on which the Mondrian was hung. The guard’s back was to her, his head facing the main door that connected this space to the ballroom. Otherwise, the room was empty.