by Julie Leto
What else would explain why she was suddenly, powerfully attracted to a man she’d become friends with mainly because they didn’t want to sleep together? She blamed the diary, which she’d stayed up very late reading. She blamed her long day at the gallery, surrounded by exquisite art, all with sexual content—and the fact that she used her own sensuality to sell the pieces to the public. Subtle sexiness put people off-kilter. They never knew quite how to react or how to respond, so she retained the upper hand. She’d watched her mother employ the same tactics her entire life—only Pilar used it to trap lovers. Reina chose to put her talents toward advancing her business.
And a tiny part of her wanted to see what would happen if she set her sights on Zane.
Lord, she needed a good night’s rest. The sizzling content of Il Gioielliere’s Diaries had made sleep difficult, even after she’d luxuriated in a hot bath and some solo satisfaction. Maybe what she needed was a break from her immersion in all things sensual and sexual.
Maybe she just needed a man.
One who would help her work off her excessive sexual energy without wanting anything in return. One who would understand that she valued her work and her business above all else, and she didn’t require love or devotion in order to experience a good orgasm.
She glanced back out the window. God, she really was losing it. Still, she sensed something different about Zane, something subtle. As if he had a secret he couldn’t tell her. He was hiding something, but she had no idea what. She briefly entertained the idea that he was reining in his attraction to her, but how could that be? Not wanting each other, not trying to impress or seduce, had become the foundation of their friendship. Zane, the sought-after bachelor, hardly ever met a woman who didn’t want to lure him to her bed. Reina, the aloof seductress, kept men away by presenting herself as more than they could possibly handle. And now, after five years of platonic comfort, had things changed?
The doorbell rang, springing Reina back to the present. She took a deep breath and regained control over her frazzled nerves. She was being ridiculous. She grabbed a tube of her favorite lipstick and swiped on a quick application, willing confidence and control into her expression. Claudio wanted her to reassemble his collection and she wanted the job. If she had to, she’d use every tactic in her sensual arsenal to assure Claudio she could keep the jewels safe. Weird vibes or not, Zane had promised to help her. She believed him, just as she believed that any heightened awareness between her and Zane was just a figment of her oversexed imagination.
REINA HAD CHANGED. Not her clothes, there hadn’t been time. Yet, as Grey entered the house through the back door and heard her voice, then turned the corner in time to watch her pour a glass of merlot for her guest in the front parlor, he instantly recognized a subtle yet glaring alteration in her manner.
Her movements were precise but slow—lazy, as if she were a pampered woman with all the time in the world. Her lashes fluttered over her eyes, which were lowered just enough to be construed as seductive, inviting. When she delivered the wine, her delicate fingers brushed coquettishly against her guest’s deeply tanned hand. She lingered near him until he took his first sip, then rewarded his appreciative hum with a stunning, pleasured grin.
Reina had turned her sensuality to full blast. Grey nearly whistled aloud, marveling at her power to arouse him when she didn’t even know he was there, when he wasn’t even the man she sought to seduce.
Her sexiness dimmed only when she turned her attention to the two incredibly large men who flanked the more cultured gentleman—the one he assumed was Claudio di Amante. Dimmed, but didn’t disappear. Grey knew that would be impossible.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like anything, Mr.—”
Grey figured one was probably named Rocco and the other Tony. Big Tony. Or Guido. From the cut of their suits and the steely glare in their eyes, he guessed these wise guys were products of the good old U.S. of A., despite invariably Italian surnames.
“My associates have another engagement after this,” the older man answered in a thick Italian accent. “They need, how you say, clear heads?”
Reina grinned, her lips curved coyly. “Of course. They can sit down, can’t they?”
Guido and Rocco glanced at each other. The hair along the back of Grey’s neck sprang to attention. Just what had Reina gotten herself into? What had Zane gotten him into? Had he abandoned troubles at the newspaper to take on a problem with the mob?
One goon took a chair near the window, the other near the parlor door. Grey must have groaned louder than he intended, because he caught Reina’s attention. She invited him into the room just as Rocco reached beneath his jacket.
“Claudio di Amante, may I introduce my landlord, Zane Masterson.”
Rocco relaxed. Grey swallowed a huff of relief.
“Zane has agreed to help me insure the safety of your collection while it is in my possession,” Reina explained.
Grey extended his hand as the man rose from his chair. “Signore di Amante.”
“Mr. Masterson.”
Claudio shook his hand with a little more roughness than Grey would have expected from a man of such obvious sophistication. His dark eyes, soft with admiration when he looked at Reina, now hardened and stared. Grey couldn’t remember the last time he’d been sized up so blatantly, but figured the man had good reason.
Either that or he didn’t like his territory intruded upon.
“Reina hasn’t had a chance to tell me much about your collection,” Grey said, hoping to break the tension, “but I’m assuming it’s incredibly valuable.”
“Priceless.” Di Amante sat, then motioned for Grey to do the same. “I’ve brought these treasures all the way from my home in Venice, where they’ve been locked away for several generations. What I have now are loose gems and precious stones and metals that were once the centerpieces of a notorious collection of erotic jewelry created by my ancestor. His name was Gianni di Carlo. In his day, he was known by his profession—a jeweler, il gioielliere. Most said only “il Gio” and everyone knew of whom they spoke.”
Grey noted the pride in di Amante’s voice. The rich history meant a great deal to him, a sentiment Grey could understand, given his legacy from the Herald. He lowered himself into a wing chair across from the Italian.
“But the collection was dismantled?”
Claudio’s nod was sad. “Il Gio created the collection for his mistress. After she died, he took all the pieces apart and locked them away. But his family knew of the affair, and his daughter, who was sympathetic to the mistress, made sure the remnants remained together, handed down from mother to daughter for centuries. My mother had no daughter and I never married, so the legacy fell to me. And now I want Reina to restore the collection to its original state. The jewels themselves are exquisite in quality. The gold as pure as sixteenth-century processes would allow.”
“Sixteenth century?” Grey asked, not realizing the jewels were antique.
Reina placed a filled goblet in Grey’s hand then gracefully arranged herself on an antique settee, her own wine in one hand and enraptured attention on her face. Her eyes glowed with absolute interest. You’d think di Amante was giving her the secret to world peace rather than describing a bunch of old jewelry.
“A legacy from a beloved ancestor. Have you heard of il Gioielliere?” Claudio waited for Grey to nod. He had indeed heard of the man, thanks to an article his book editor had done on the history of the current bestseller, a diary of some sort. Grey hadn’t paid that much attention, except to note that the book had knocked Lane Morrow’s tabloid trash out of the number one spot on the New York Times list.
“The sentimental value alone makes these jewels irreplaceable,” Claudio added.
Grey sipped his wine, relaxing into the chair while he watched the man’s eyes. Something about Claudio di Amante’s expression alerted Grey’s journalistic instincts. The man was holding something back. Keeping something important under wraps—and not just from him, but
from Reina, as well.
“Why don’t your…associates arrange protection for the jewels?” he asked.
Claudio grinned. “These gentleman graciously agreed to oversee the transport of the jewels from my possession to Ms. Price’s talented hands. I cannot impose on them beyond that, I’m afraid. You can handle the task of protecting Ms. Price…and the jewels, si?”
Grey sat up straighter. “Is there any reason to believe these jewels could place Reina in danger?”
“Absolutely not, unless the thief who has targeted her business in recent days strikes yet again and employs more desperate measures, like invading her home.”
Grey watched Reina from the corner of his eye, but she didn’t say a word. He realized then that Reina hadn’t added anything to the conversation so far, hadn’t objected—as many women would—to being discussed as if she wasn’t there. One glance into her eyes told him she was practicing great restraint, carefully observing their exchange as she casually sipped her wine.
What did she see with those large dark eyes?
“That’s why I’m here,” Grey reassured him. “I won’t let anything happen to either Ms. Price or the jewels. I have a close associate in the security business. I’ll have the house wired with state-of-the-art equipment before midnight.”
Claudio sipped and stared, his gaze intense, his expression wary. “Do you believe Mr. Masterson can protect you, Reina? I don’t wish to be the cause of harm to you.”
Reina slid her glass onto a low marble-topped table and brightened her eternally coy smile. “I have absolute confidence in Zane, Claudio. He’s been a good friend to me, a reliable one. I haven’t made many friends since returning to the States, but the ones I’ve made—like Zane—I would trust with my life.”
Shocked, Grey shook off a chill by sipping more wine. He didn’t know what surprised him more—that Reina trusted his brother so implicitly or that she didn’t have dozens of friends and admirers clamoring to lay their lives at her feet. He’d known her for less than an hour and he could easily visualize himself doing all he could to keep her from harm’s way. Just yesterday, he’d thought himself too exhausted to deal with the combined trouble of a beleaguered newspaper, his trashed reputation and his wacko stalker. But a jewel thief? Maybe the mob? For Reina?
No problem.
Claudio, obviously convinced, nodded to Guido. The large man instantly produced a locked, metallic briefcase Grey hadn’t noticed until that very minute. Tapping the side of his watch, Claudio opened a small compartment and slid out a tiny key. He unlocked the case, then, with a glance, dismissed the bodyguards from the room. One went out the front door; the other closed the pocket doors between the parlor and the foyer, likely stationing himself in the hall.
Grey didn’t know if the clandestine actions were meant to impress them or if they were truly necessary, but, either way, he understood that his decision to become his brother had taken on a completely new meaning. He’d expected to slip into Zane’s carefree lifestyle, go to parties, travel, and medicate his smarting ego with fine food and expensive wine.
Now he was responsible for securing and protecting the frickin’ crown jewels of Venice.
So why didn’t that bother him? Instead, he felt a surge of adrenaline unlike anything he’d experienced in years, even when tempting fate and discovery during his escapades with Lane.
Claudio opened the case and removed a worn leather portfolio stuffed with papers. Beneath it, cradled in dark sponge, glimmered an assortment of diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds, opals, some elongated lapis lazuli, and a tiny vial filled with freshwater pearls—and a whole bunch of rare gems Grey couldn’t begin to identify.
Reina silently gained permission to touch the gems by looking at Claudio with intense longing. Grey shifted in his chair, his sex stirred by the powerful desire shining in her obsidian eyes. He wouldn’t mind her throwing that expression his way sometime soon, and not because he was holding some damned diamond.
She didn’t reach for the diamond, but instead lifted a fiery orange stone nearly the size of her palm. She carelessly tossed aside the shade of a nearby lamp and held the facets to the bulb. Flames seemed to leap from the stone and dance on the skin.
“My God,” Reina said.
“Exquisite, yes?” Claudio asked, easing up behind her. “Look at the facets. Il Gio cut each one himself.”
Reina’s breath had caught, but slowly, with a sensual hiss, she relaxed her lungs. “And the designs. You’ve brought them all?”
“Absolutely,” Claudio said. “The originals are in the portfolio, though copies do exist in a bank vault in Italy. Still, I’m giving my life to you, Reina. My legacy.”
She spun to face Claudio, and Grey watched blatant fear creep into her previously enamored expression. He didn’t know all the details, but he didn’t have to be an observant journalist to recognize that the value of this collection went well beyond the financial, for both Claudio and Reina.
“You should find another artist,” Reina said, her voice rife with regret.
Claudio’s smile was kind. “For this collection, there is no other artist.”
Grey wondered about Claudio’s logic, but filed those questions away for later. “Does anyone know the jewels are here?”
Reina shook her head. “I’ve told no one.”
“No one at the studio?” Grey asked.
“Absolutely not,” she insisted. “Judi and the artists whose work I show know that Claudio came to see me yesterday, but when he left, I told them all that I turned down his commission because of the security problems.”
“What about me?” Grey asked. “Why do they think I came to the studio today?”
Reina grinned. “I may have mentioned that the plumbing in the upstairs bathroom had backed up.”
“And you, Claudio?” For the moment, Grey trusted that no one at Reina’s studio was suspicious, but he wondered how much time her lies had bought. “Your associates out there undoubtedly know what they’ve brought.”
He shook his head. “My associates are friends of a friend, a trusted acquaintance who has now repaid an old debt. They have no interest in my business here. I’m confident that as soon as they leave, I will be instantly forgotten.”
Grey nodded, assuming there was more to that story but believing Claudio’s confidence. Fencing stolen jewelry was a specialized field of thievery and not every crime organization dabbled in it.
“When will they leave?” Grey asked.
“As soon as your security is implemented.”
Grey retrieved his cell phone from his pocket. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take care of the details. Reina?”
She’d knelt down on the floor, curling her legs beneath her as she traded the large orange-red stone for a handful of pearls she’d arranged in her palm. She glanced up, claimed to be fine, and then went back to her focused examination.
Her eyes had glittered with raw emotion: awe. Not the kind of awe that sprang from greed—he’d seen that look on lots of women’s faces over the years. Her wonder sprang from reverence, the kind only a true artist would feel for their medium.
The kind a lover would express for the body of their mate.
Grey shook away the thought and retreated to the kitchen to call No Chances Protection, a security firm owned and operated by Brandon Chance, an old friend Grey knew he could trust. Trust. An interesting concept, Grey mused while he waited for the after-hours switchboard to transfer him to Brandon’s cell phone.
So, Reina trusted his seemingly untrustworthy brother with her life. And, apparently, with Claudio’s priceless jewels. With any other woman, he might have simply assumed she was a foolish twit blinded by his brother’s charm into assigning him more credit than he deserved. With Reina, he couldn’t easily dismiss her estimation of Zane’s reliability. In the depths of those sensual black eyes, he sensed a wisdom beyond her years, an air of experience only slightly tinged with jade. He had seen the way she’d watched Claudio, had sensed
that she’d scrutinized him while Grey had been questioning di Amante about Reina’s safety. She took the time to see things, listen to details others didn’t bother with.
And now Grey realized he hadn’t ever really bothered to know his brother very well. He loved Zane unconditionally, but since they’d spent the better part of their lives trying to prove to the world how different the identical Masterson twins truly were, he’d missed the opportunity to truly become close to his brother. And vice versa.
“Brandon Chance,” the voice on the other end announced.
“Brandon, Zane Masterson. How’s it going?”
“Zane? I’ve been expecting a call from your brother. Is this about the newspaper?”
Grey flinched. Maybe, before now, he should have called his old friend Brandon, a former Army hotshot now scoring big in the game of personal protection, but he hadn’t felt personally at risk, so he’d put that plan on hold. He had assumed he could handle the mishaps and mysteries plaguing the paper’s operation on his own. By the time things got out of control, he’d decided to bring Zane into the mix instead. He’d wanted escape more than anything else. Only a switch with his brother could give him that.
A switch he intended to keep secret from everyone, even an old buddy.
“Newspaper? Nah, that’s Grey’s territory,” he said, reminding himself to mimic Zane’s easygoing voice. “I’ve got a tenant, Garden District, who needs security in her house. Top of the line. Installed tonight.”
Grey heard Brandon shift his phone. “Give me the specs and the address. I can be there in an hour.”
REINA LEANED HEAVILY against the front door, her forehead hot against the cool stained glass, her heartbeat regulating with arduous slowness. She wasn’t sure if Claudio’s departure had made her feel better or worse. She had the jewels. Representatives from the local Cosa Nostra remained outside her house, protecting her and the precious gems until Zane and his friend took over. But she was also alone with Zane in the house, yet again experiencing the sharp edge of her heightened libido.
