by AJ Matthews
“I’ll have to find a place of my own in the fall—something bigger than Mrs. Jones’s studio where I stayed last year—”
“Don’t go starting with that again. Your mother and brothers can all stay at the shack. Plenty of room. We’ll double up and—”
“Now don’t you go starting that again.”
“Let’s not have this discussion in the street.”
She pushed past him, inside. The whoosh of cold air was a relief, but not as much as ending that line of discussion. Dane had until September to convince her to stay with him. He had until September to make sure he wanted her to stay with him.
Emma assaulted them, sweeping Shana into a French hug and kiss—distant and for show—and they disappeared into the recesses of the shop. Dane wandered in the direction of the dressing room to have a seat and watch his favorite show—Shana parading for him in sexy dresses—when he bumped into a petite, dark-haired woman.
He was not a klutz and not unaware of his surroundings, which meant that the woman had purposely taken him by surprise and run into him with a goal in mind. She looked up and he saw brown eyes swimming in mirth.
With a flirty French accent, she said, “I was wondering when I might run into you.”
Chapter Three
Dane nodded. “I don’t know you, but you bring to mind the only French person I know.”
“Let me guess. Jean Luc Ruse?”
Dane didn’t even bother with a nod. Deep down he wasn’t surprised. Jean Luc had been part nemesis and part ally the previous summer when he ran a scam surfing competition as a front for a Brazilian human trafficking operation. Jean Luc had cooperated with the Brazilians under duress and had helped him and Shana tag the notorious Tavares brothers. It seemed a lifetime ago—his first case with Shana—but now seeing this young lady, who was obviously related, it got his heart rate up a beat with some kind of excitement.
“He sends his regards.”
“And you are?”
“Angelique Dubois.”
From the corner of his eye he saw Shana emerge from the dressing room. He stifled a wolf whistle. But his pounding heartbeat gained speed and his nerves went to full alert from his chest down to his toes and especially certain parts in between. The turquoise dress shimmered like the sun reflecting off the ocean, but as he turned his full attention to her, his eyes were naturally drawn to the places the gown didn’t cover. The plunging halter front might have reached her naval and the slit up her right leg went far too high for panties. She swirled in a circle on her way to him and he saw that there was no back to her gown—only Shana’s golden, glistening skin. She stopped in between him and Angelique, making a circle and looked at the young woman, towering over her.
“Are you related to Jean Luc Ruse?” Shana asked.
“I am his niece.”
Dane laughed. “That’s what they all say.”
“No, I see what you think, but I am his niece. Really. Vérité.” She put out her hand, a delicate porcelain perfect hand tipped in frivolous pink polished nails. He took it and squelched his urge to kiss it. He gave a light squeeze and she caressed his hand as he let go.
Shana watched and felt hot and bothered by this smooth, dark-haired, dark-eyed, pale-skinned petite beauty. Shana felt like a giant next to her. A clumsy giant. But she was not.
Shana said, “Don’t pay attention to Dane. The family resemblance is obvious.” She smiled and hoped it looked friendlier than she felt. “I’m Shana George.”
“I knew you must be. Uncle speaks fondly of you.”
“Are you in the family business?”
Angelique was not taken aback, but laughed a graceful musical laugh and shook her head and said, “Non, non.” Her French accent was annoying but Shana could see it might charm a weak-minded man. She glanced at Dane.
It was a good thing he was not weak minded. Of course, he did have other weaknesses that Shana should be more concerned about.
“Nice to have met you, Ms. Dubois. We have some shopping to do.” Shana looped her arm through Dane’s.
Before she could draw him away he said, “What’s wrong with the dress you have on? Why don’t we buy that one and be done with it?”
Resisting her temptation to punch him in the ribs—and if she were honest, her temptation to take his face in her hands and devour his lips—she gave a small shake to her head.
“He is right. That dress becomes you.” Angelique smiled in such a sincere way that it made Shana feel mean.
Angelique said to Dane, “I’m glad to have met you. I hope we meet again during my stay.”
“How long will that be?” Dane asked.
“We’ll see...” Angelique glided toward the door with a wave and a mysteriously provocative look. Shana didn’t trust her no matter how sincere she might sound. Angelique was cut from the same cloth as Jean Luc.
“Let her go. We’ll look into her later,” she said. She knew Dane would want to follow the woman. He had to be suspicious too. Waving her hand in the direction of some silky, expensive-looking dresses that looked like they were made more for someone like Frenchie than Shana, she said, “I’m sure Mr. Gable wouldn’t mind if I purchased a second dress as a backup.”
Shana was proud of her athletic strong body. She had a generous share of curves along with the muscle. She looked toward another rack with a hot pink tube dress made of Lycra and something more expensive, if the price tag was any indication.
“’I’ll try on that one.” She reached for the one in her size and eyed it skeptically.
Dane growled in a voice for her ears only. “Damn. I should take you shopping more often. I can’t wait for you to try that on. Of course, I’m not so sure you ought to wear it in public—especially not on assignment. I’d be too distracted.”
“I’m sure you could keep your eyes off me and on your work.”
“That’s not the problem. The problem is I’d have to fight the men off you. You will definitely need protection if you wear that dress out.”
“Lucky thing I for you I know how to take care of myself.”
He smiled and nodded.
She took the dress off the rack and purposefully sashayed back into the dressing room. Emma came over and offered Dane a drink.
“Something cold. Lots of ice.”
Shana heard Dane before she closed the dressing room door and didn’t feel guilty about being so girlish.
“Yes, of course. This heat wave has been terrible,” Emma said.
It wasn’t the heat wave Dane needed cooling off from, but he didn’t bother explaining.
Later that evening Cap, Shana and Dane sat on the cement patio out in back of the beach shack. Three tall glasses of cold beer sat on the metal table. Cap sat back, relaxed. Shana sat, leaning forward on her elbows and Dane stood. He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. It still felt like someone had put the entire island of Martha’s Vineyard inside a giant sauna and cranked up the heat. He picked up his glass and took a long swallow, then touched the frosty glass to his cheek.
“Acer looked at the security schematics at the Gables’ place and confirmed my evaluation. I checked with the neighbors and they all have the same system. It’s state of the art. It would need to be disabled from the inside. The safe was top notch and would take some time and skill to crack, but he figured it could be done.”
There’s no way we’d have missed the thief on the surveillance videos if they’d been outside intruders.”
“I reviewed the surveillance videos,” Shana said. “Everything from early afternoon—well before the parties started—until the next morning for each of the three homes. Nothing. The thefts were inside jobs.”
“Of course they could have disabled one of the cameras and then fixed it again on their way out, but they’d have to know where the cameras were and that would take some doing without close inspection,” Dane said.
“You checked the cameras at the neighbors’ too?” Cap said.
“We’re very thorough
.” Shana said.
“I could have saved you the trouble—we already looked at their systems and checked all the videos.”
“Sure, but you weren’t getting paid two hundred bucks an hour,” Shana said. She winked. Cap laughed.
“We didn’t get to the good part yet,” Shana said.
“Don’t jump to a quick conclusion, girlie—if you do that you’ll cut your opportunity for more fees,” Dane said. “And you might miss catching the real thief.”
“Dane is kidding, but I’m not when I say we already have a suspect and you’ll never guess who it is.”
“Angelique Dubois—niece of Jean Luc Ruse,” Cap said.
Shana stared at him, mute. “You knew she was here?” She sounded like she was accusing him of being a baby murderer.
“I suspect Cap didn’t know long before we found out. Which was exactly when she wanted us to know.”
“We finished up interviewing guests from the last soirée today and she was one of the last. The detective who interviewed her popped into my office just before I came over to give me a message from her—from Jean Luc, actually. Apparently he says hello,” Cap said.
“She’s a piece of work. She probably figured if she pretended to know you the detective questioning her would get distracted from his task,” Shana said. She stood and started pacing around like a restless tiger. Normally Dane enjoyed her restless tiger mood, but this time he didn’t think he was the one making her restless.
“What’s bothering you?” Cap asked.
“She’s arrogant.” Shana stopped her pacing and picked up her glass of beer. “It’s that obnoxious brand of elitist arrogance that I especially hate. She’s a flaunter.” She knocked back half the glass.
Dane didn’t know if he wanted her to chug the whole thing down so he could convince her to work out her agitation on him, or to grab the drink away from her and make her calm down. Either way, it was a challenge not to be distracted by the trickles of perspiration sliding down her neck over her collarbone and disappearing into the shadowy dip between her breasts and beneath her tank top.
“You think Dubois is your thief?” Cap said. He sounded skeptical.
“You don’t think it’s coincidence that she shows up—with her grand hello from Jean Luc—and we just happen to have a rash of jewel thefts at the same time?” Shana said.
Dane said. “The safe was top notch and would take some time and skill to crack, but I figure it could be done if you were a guest wandering upstairs—or maybe a security guard.”
“So we agree—she looks good for an inside job.”
“Possibly,” Dane said.
“I think we have our prime suspect,” Shana said.
Dane held his patience and repeated himself. “Don’t jump to conclusions because you might miss something.”
Cap said, “She could have a partner.”
“Like that,” Dane said.
Shana shot a look at him and smiled.
“What?” he said.
“I knew you’d see it my way.”
“I didn’t say it was Angelique parading around as a guest and sneaking up to the safe—it could just as easily be someone from the catering staff or more likely the security staff. Like Cap said—we need to look for a partner.”
“We haven’t completed our background checks on all the staff for the last three parties—they used almost the identical list of employees—but I’ll let you know if I spot anything,” Cap said.
“Why are you skeptical?” Shana asked Cap.
“I’m suspicious of the obvious. Angelique is worse than obvious—”
“Like I said—she’s a flaunter,” Shana said. “She’s taunting us. It’s like she has some kind of grudge. She probably also has an ace up her sleeve. Jean Luc must have told her something to make her hate us—and to give her an advantage.”
“Or he told her something to make her relish the challenge,” Dane said.
“So you do think it’s her,” Shana said. She folded her arms across her chest, hiding the trickle of sweat and the rest of what was distracting him.
“I’m not as certain as you. I’m with Cap. Hard to believe she’d be that obvious—knowing her motive would be key. We need to know more about her. Get her story.”
“I agree—there’s something missing,” Shana said.
“I enjoy a taunt as much as the next guy—probably more,” said Dane, “But if Angelique Dubois is the thief and she is putting herself purposely in our path to stick her tongue out at us, so to speak, then she’s either crazy, or she has some kind of serious agenda.”
“Or both,” Shana said. She unfolded her arms and leaned down to pick up her half empty glass. “It was no coincidence that she showed up at the dress shop. Jean Luc knew that dress shop.”
Dane stepped closer. She said under her breath, “Stop staring. Even if I were in the mood, and even if you were the last man on earth, it’s far too hot.”
Dane flashed a glance at Cap to see if he’d heard her. Probably not.
“What the hell?” Dane breathed close to her ear, taking in her scent intensified by the heat.
“You heard me.” She said this out loud so that Cap heard her. He’d witnessed the exchange anyway. He was shaking his head.
“Did I miss something?” Cap said. He stood. “I’m not staying around to watch you two and your endless sparring.”
“Don’t leave yet,” Shana said.
“Let the man go. Maybe I’ll go too.” He left the words I know when I’m not wanted unspoken.
“Don’t pretend to be hurt,” she said.
He didn’t move. He downed the rest of his beer. He didn’t get it. He’d thought they were on good terms. His heart thudded hard and slow as if his blood were made of molasses. He pushed his hand through his hair. His palms were sweaty. Probably from the heavy heat. Looking toward the harbor, he thought of jumping in for a swim. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“I’ll call you if I come up with anything—you do the same.” Cap saluted and disappeared around the corner of the house.
Shana stood with her empty glass in hand. He reached out and grabbed her hand and yanked her with him across the short expanse of grass to the pier.
“What are you doing? You planning to throw me in?” She stumbled along, not exactly resisting, not going easy either.
“Don’t tempt me. I just want to put my feet in the water and cool off and—” He stopped. He didn’t know what. He wanted to talk? Not really. He wanted her to talk, to tell him what was wrong—to tell him she was his for as long as he wanted with no strings? Not damn likely. Her arm was hot and slimy with sweat where he’d grabbed her. Her skin felt like it did after a bout of lovemaking. It had been too long and he’d thought that might change now. Wrong.
They stopped at the end of the narrow wood pier and he sat, pulling her down with him. Twilight was falling and the mosquitoes were out, but Dane didn’t care. The house was too hot and stifling.
“Okay—we’re here—what do you want, Dane?” she sighed heavily as if breathing were hard. As if everything was difficult and she was weary.
A hot burst suddenly shot through in his chest like electric paddles that stimulated his heart to a racing beat from the mild trot where it had been. She was tired of him.
“You want to leave, Shana?” He asked against his own will, sounding calm. He stopped breathing and watched her.
“Do I—I don’t know. I never know. My mother, my brothers...” She stopped talking and looked out at the water. It was just as well. He wouldn’t hear whatever she said now because his blood pulsed so loudly, pounding at his temples. He breathed in deep. The sea air was still and heavy. It didn’t have the usual calming effect. Or maybe he was too far gone.
“I wish this weather would break,” she said.
“You’re making no sense.”
She shrugged. Not a good sign. There should be a spark of anger at his insult.
He lifted himself off the edge of the pier,
pulled his shirt over his head, emptied his pockets and dove into the water.
What the hell was he doing? What the hell was she doing? Shana scrambled to her feet and stepped back from the edge of the dock as if the water might suck her in after him. Was it her fault he jumped into the harbor? More likely it was the heat.
She needed to make a decision about Dane—before her mother and brother came for their visit. Before she was lost forever to a self-destructive commitment. She needed to move out into a real place of her own and get some distance from him. She couldn’t make a decision about him when she was with him all the time, enticing her with his scent and his power and his charm and his boldness.
He belonged with someone like Angelique Dubois. Someone who enjoyed taunting and playing games with people. Shana didn’t like that.
Or did she? What was it that kept her here?
She watched the water. He’d been under for almost five minutes already. She heard him splash to the surface and turned. He was to the left and walking toward the stone wall at the shoreline along his property. She walked off the pier to join him as he stepped over the short wall and onto the grass. Night was falling fast now. Her heartbeat picked up as if the darkness signified danger. But it was her approach to Dane that signified danger.
She reached him where he lay in the grass, wet and glistening under the twinkling stars and harbor lights. She stopped and he grabbed onto her ankle. She knew what he would do next and she let him. She went down gracefully, considering, and ended up half lying across his chest, propped on her elbows.
“What do you want, Shana? What if you could have anything in the world? What would your life be?”
She tried to laugh his question off, tried to think of it as silly, but her heart beat faster against her ribs and against his. There was no way to hide her agitation from him.
“I never pegged you for the fanciful type—”
“Answer me.”
“There is no answer. Why don’t you answer it—what would your perfect life be?”
He stared at her. His eyelashes glistened with water, his stare intense. She had a heartbreaking glimpse inside his battered soul. She closed her eyes. She didn’t expect him to answer—that was her point. That was the message in his eyes. There was no answer to such a question. But he spoke and caused a stutter to her heart and she opened her eyes again as if he had commanded her.
