by Julie Leto
Her tired sigh broke his thoughts. He doused the lamp and pulled her into his arms.
For a long moment, silence ruled. But Grey knew from her quick breathing that she hadn’t fallen asleep.
“You don’t have to do this,” she finally said.
“Do what?”
“Hold me until I fall asleep. Pretend we’re sharing some tender emotional moment. I’m not one of those women.”
Her bold statement shouldn’t have surprised him, but did.
“What kind of woman is that?”
“The kind that assigns something deeper to sexual satisfaction. You’re an incredible lover, Grey, but I won’t be falling in love with you.”
He didn’t know whether to be insulted, relieved or impressed. Reina Price loved presenting herself as cosmopolitan and cavalier about love and lovers, but he wondered how deeply the attitude truly ran. After all, he presented a similar face to the world, when he knew, deep down, that he wanted a soul mate as much as any man who’d finally acknowledged his loneliness.
“You’re so sure about that?” he asked.
“Of course. I don’t intend to fall in love with anyone.”
“Ever?”
Her shoulder tucked beneath his, he felt her shrug. “Oh, I never say never. Maybe someday, when I finally figure out what I want from a marriage. It’s not as if I’m overly familiar with the institution.”
“Your mother never married?”
He knew Pilar Price was notorious for her affairs, but didn’t know any of the details. Even before his debacle with Lane, he left the entertainment section to the editors who seemed more inclined to follow the latest gossip.
“No. She told me once she’d proposed to a man a long time ago, but he turned her down, so she’s done the same to every man who had the courage to ask her since.”
“And you want to be like your mother?”
That sent her sitting upright. “Bite your tongue! I love my mother, but she’s the last woman on earth I want to emulate.”
He remained lying beside her, but cradled his hands behind his head. “Then why are you?”
“Why am I what?”
“Emulating her? You have this exotic, mysterious persona. You take lovers, but don’t want to fall in love. What part of this doesn’t sound like Pilar?”
Moonlight spilled in a silver stream through her window, lighting her face just enough so he could see the indignant purse of her lips.
“The part where I take lovers to satisfy my sexual needs, not my financial ones. The part where I control my own career, my own art, not where I flit from Svengali to Svengali until I’ve amassed enough fame to call my own shots. The part where…”
As her volume rose, so did Grey’s remorse. He certainly hadn’t meant to make her angry. In a quick movement masked by the darkness, he tugged her back into his arms. She struggled, but stopped once he said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For speaking about topics I obviously know nothing about. I’m a newspaperman. I should know better.”
She remained quiet, but her cheek quivered against his chest.
“Am I forgiven?”
“You aren’t the first man to make such an assumption about me, Grey,” she admitted, a familiar sound of practiced boredom lacing her whisper. “I doubt you’ll be the last.”
Grey cursed, but before he could come up with a way to turn the conversation to something less charged, she’d fallen asleep. Exhaustion muddled his brain. He yawned, and the sensation of her warm body lax against his lulled him to close his eyes. Yet, as the scent of jasmine and expensive French perfume teased his nostrils, he couldn’t help entertaining a few questions. Did he want to prove her wrong about him somehow, or should he remain focused on the plan he’d formulated back at the gallery that afternoon, about having a quick discreet affair with Reina and nothing more? For all he knew, his stupid choice of postcoital conversation had taken the decision from him.
“Then again,” he murmured, his tone smug as her hand slipped sleepily over his cock, “maybe not.”
8
REINA SHOVED HER FISTS onto her hips and surveyed her handiwork, ignoring the grimy feel of the dust clinging to her skin, hair and clothes. Once she showered, the last speck of centuries-old dust and dirt in the hidden room would be gone for good. An air filter hummed in the corner of the room. The wood floors gleamed like polished amber. The vacuum cleaner, cord wrapped around the handle and the bag changed for the second time, sat propped between the inner panel and the outer room until she could return it to the hall closet. She glanced at her watch. For a relatively inexperienced housekeeper, she’d managed to clean the room by eleven o’clock, only two hours after waking from the most restful sleep she’d enjoyed in years.
Yet the minute her brain had attempted to figure out the reasons for her deep, invigorating rest, she’d sprung into action, not wanting to think about Grey Masterson or his inventive lovemaking. Instead, she’d dug out last season’s workout wear, twisted her hair into a haphazard ponytail and tried to remember where the woman who cleaned her house twice a week kept the dust rags and brooms.
“Wow, for a debutante, you sure know your way around a can of Pledge,” Grey said, squeezing past the vacuum cleaner with a cup of coffee in his hand.
She wiped her hands on her nylon shorts before accepting the china. “I was never a debutante,” she countered, inhaling an invigorating whiff of coffee and chicory before taking a cautious sip. A little too much sugar and milk for her taste, but she appreciated the sentiment. “And what’s a can of Pledge?”
His grin told her he didn’t buy her ignorance of cleaning products for a minute. So she watched a little television every now and again. So she often worked out creative blocks by grabbing a rag and helping polish the silverware her mother had given her—remnants of an affair with a British financier. Big deal.
“Oh, I forgot,” he said. “You’re a lady of leisure.”
She couldn’t contain a derisive snort. “Oh, yes. A lady of leisure with work to do. How soon until I can start working on the collection?”
He slung his hands into the pockets of his jeans, the denim cut loose but still highlighting his sinfully muscled legs. Of course, it didn’t help that Reina couldn’t dim the clear, crisp picture of Grey stalking her around her bed last night in pure naked magnificence. She took a longer sip of coffee, wincing when her tongue sizzled from too much heat.
“I can move your worktable and the air conditioner up here as soon as we’re done, and you’ll be good to go by this afternoon.”
“Done? With what? The room is spotless.”
Reina took a deep breath, and willed herself to be patient. She wanted to work now. Engross herself in the jewels and designs. Anything to keep her mind off the probing look in Grey’s devilish blue eyes.
He nodded. “Wasn’t talking about that. Have to show you how the security system works. Also, I’ve been over the police reports from your robberies and have some questions.”
“Can’t the questions wait?”
“If I wait, how am I going to occupy my time all day while you work?” He stepped toward her, his eyes glinting with wicked intentions. Though not as lopsided as Zane’s grin, Grey’s smile managed to charm her just the same.
“You could go out,” she suggested.
“And leave you and the collection alone and unprotected all day?”
“We have the security system,” she reminded him.
“Yes, but what’ll you do if someone tries to break in and you’re here all alone?” He closed the distance between them with two long strides and Reina fought her instinct to back away. Damn, but the man had breached her defenses. She struggled to regain her composure, praying he wouldn’t notice how she shook. “I suppose you could seduce the hapless devil into leaving you alone—” he touched her chin with a crooked finger and she met his stare boldly “—but what if your thief is a woman? You’ll be defenseless.”
She r
olled her eyes, but didn’t bother attempting to argue with his cool, accurate assessment. Her sexuality was indeed a tool, reminding her for the second time in two days that she was more like her mother than she had ever planned to become.
“We have no evidence that someone will try to break in.” She rooted her feet, determined to stand her ground. Still, her lips thrummed, sparked with awareness when his knuckle skimmed across them.
“As far as I can see from those police reports, we have no proof that they won’t, either, since we have no idea who ‘they’ are. Of course, I might change my mind after you answer some questions. The sooner I catch your thief, the sooner you get your house back to yourself, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I don’t mind you staying here,” she lied, counteracting her instinct to shift from foot to foot by swallowing the last of her coffee. Her action broke the magnetic force humming between them, so she immediately turned and set the cup on a windowsill, then began collecting the wayward cloths and paper towels she’d left scattered around the room. “I appreciate your help protecting the collection. I just thought you might want some time to really be Zane, like you wanted. Get out there and enjoy life. That is why you switched places with him, isn’t it?”
Grey’s expression resembled a scowl, but since Reina strongly suspected that a genuine Grey Masterson scowl was most likely a look she wouldn’t have any doubt about, she figured his deep furrowed brow and tightly drawn lips meant something more than anger. She wasn’t certain she wanted to know precisely what, though she suspected he was simply considering all angles of her assumption before formulating his response. She’d already learned that Grey’s intelligence and creativity were tools he used carefully, just as she used her sexuality. And with equal skill.
In fact, the man wielded his sexuality rather adeptly as well. She was going to have to match him wit for wit to come out of this affair unscathed.
Finally his stoic look disappeared, replaced by a relaxed expression that would have made Zane proud. “I’m enjoying myself right here. Aren’t you?”
“The sex was great, if that’s what you mean.”
His shrug was noncommittal. “The sex could continue to be great, if that’s what you want.”
He took the collection of rags from her, slapped them into a bucket and dropped them at her feet. His cologne, powered by the base essence of ginger, teased her nostrils and threw her mind right back into the bed in the other room. She’d slept in the man’s arms all night. She couldn’t remember the last lover she’d allowed to remain in her private sanctuary until dawn. Only Grey hadn’t stayed until dawn, had he? The minute his warmth and his scent had disappeared from her bed, she’d woken to watch him slip back into his room. Still exhausted, she’d rolled over and drifted back to sleep, comforted by the fact that Grey enchanted her dreams with his puzzling, potent warmth.
How she could ever have mistaken this man for his brother was a mystery she might never solve. Zane’s aftershave, while equally pricey, leaned toward citrus essentials, the results sporty and crisp. Grey, on the other hand, enhanced his natural male musk with more striking extracts. Asian spices. Earthy oils. Mixtures she couldn’t easily dissect, just like the man who wore them.
Despite her vast experience with the male species, Reina couldn’t figure Grey out. He wanted freedom so desperately he’d switched places with his brother and abandoned his beloved business. And yet instead of losing himself in Zane’s favorite parties and spontaneous excursions to exotic places, Grey remained with her, trapped in the house, intent on solving the robberies at her gallery. And most perplexing of all, though he’d been publicly burned and humiliated by a woman who had outed his unique sexual preferences, he didn’t shy away from diving straight into an affair with her.
She wasn’t certain that expending the energy to figure out what exactly made the man tick would be either wise or worth her time. What if she liked what she discovered and wanted more of him?
Or worse, what if she didn’t like what lingered beneath his mystifying charm, but lost her heart to him in the process of discovering the truth?
She destroyed that disturbing scenario by asking the obvious. “What woman doesn’t want great sex?”
Grey’s laughter echoed across the empty room. “Believe me, I could come up with a significant list in a relatively short span of time.”
Reina found that very hard to believe. Except for Judi, her assistant, who’d had too many tragic relationships in her short lifetime, all the women Reina knew constantly prowled for capable lovers. Her best friend, Chantal. Her mother. Heck, even her mother’s maid, Dahlia, kept her eyes peeled. Reina would be an idiot to dismiss Grey so soon just because she entertained some silly suspicion that he was the type of man she could fall in love with.
“Well, I won’t be on that list, I can assure you.” With nothing more to do in the secret room, she crossed through the tiny closet into her bedroom, dragging the vacuum behind her.
“I didn’t think you would be.”
Reina took one look at her bed, the bed they’d shared, and turned to face him. If she wanted to accomplish anything with the collection today she had to get the man out of her bedroom.
“So, why don’t we look over the security system and those police reports?” she suggested, knowing Grey had spread his paperwork across her dining room table downstairs.
“Would you like to shower first? Change? I’ll reheat some of the gumbo from last night and we can eat and talk.”
Reina smoothed her hands down her shorts. Oh, great. The man was considerate, too. How the heck was she going to fight this one? “Sounds like a plan. Can you take this?” She rolled the vacuum over to the door, making it clear she wasn’t removing one stitch of clothing until he was out of the room. “It goes in the closet at the end of the hall.”
Grey’s eyes flashed with understanding. “Of course.” He grabbed the handle and rolled away. He turned just as she was pushing the door closed behind him. “You don’t have to lock that, you know. I won’t come in unless I’m invited.”
She won her battle against scowling and managed a half-amused smile. “Of course, you won’t. You seem to be the perfect gentleman, Mr. Masterson.”
He leaned slightly forward, the movement arresting her heartbeat, and she realized that she secretly feared—hoped—he might break his word. “Depends on your definition of ‘perfect’ and ‘gentleman.”’
After a quick visual sweep of her, his eyes glowing with unchained lust and admiration, he let out a whistle and disappeared down the hallway. Reina shut the door soundlessly, then leaned against the cool wood and released a sigh. She knew exactly how she’d define both words. Question was, would Grey Masterson fit her classifications as truly as she suspected, or was he, once again, just playing a role?
Heaven help her, but she couldn’t wait to find out.
GREY WATCHED the caller ID flash on the phone beside Reina’s worktable. He’d already dismantled the lighting and magnification instruments and was working on the wide, flat surface when the phone trilled. In the old house, he could hear the water from Reina’s shower trickling through the pipes. According to the LCD display, the caller was her mother. He wondered how Pilar would react to Zane answering her daughter’s phone. In the what-the-hell spirit of his twin, he picked up the receiver and greeted the caller.
“Zane Masterson, what are you doing answering my daughter’s phone?”
From her tone, Grey couldn’t decide if Pilar was angry, annoyed or simply surprised.
“Saying hello. How’d you know it was me?”
She sighed as if bored. “Where’s Reina?”
“In the shower.”
“Alone? You must be losing your touch.”
Grey paused. Okay, he wasn’t touching this one, but damned if Pilar’s comment didn’t imply that she knew Zane a bit more intimately than as her daughter’s landlord and friend. Of course, his brother’s reputation was almost as widely known and accepte
d as Pilar’s. Though Zane’s tastes normally ran toward younger women, not older ones.
He answered her bait with a loud sniffing noise. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
Pilar hummed her skepticism but changed the subject. “Why isn’t Reina at the gallery? I’ve never known her to miss a day, not even for someone as charming as you.”
“Oh, come on. No one is as charming as me.”
“May I speak with her, please?”
He heard the water stop and glanced toward the stairwell. He had the perfect excuse to dash up the stairs and deliver the cordless receiver. The thought of catching Reina in the act of drying off, maybe even helping her, urged him to step out of the workshop. But doing so with her mother on the phone was a little too kinky, even for him.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
“I’m calling to remind her about the reception at the Eastman Gallery tonight. Seven o’clock.”
Grey forced himself to remember. He was certain the newspaper would be covering the gathering, but as a patron of the museum, he knew he would have received a personal invitation. He’d looked over his calendar carefully before switching places with Zane and he didn’t remember seeing a notation. Of course, the get-together could be a private affair, one he’d know nothing about.
“The Eastman Gallery? I’ve been meaning to check that out.”
“By all means, come along. I’m sure Reina would be delighted to have an escort. These events can be tiring.”
“Then why go?”
Pilar laughed, the sound so practiced and perfected—at once feminine and sexy—Grey pulled the receiver away from his ear, marveling at the level of manipulation Reina’s mother had achieved. If not for his experiences with Lane, he might not have been so acutely aware of counterfeit responses. He might have fallen hook, line and sinker for Pilar’s seductive ploy.
“Why, indeed? Yes, you must come. You’ll be a refreshing change.”
She disconnected the call, leaving Grey without a valid excuse for interrupting Reina’s shower. He returned to the solarium workshop and completed his dismantling of her equipment, stacking the pieces beside the stairs. He’d just set the gumbo in the microwave when Reina entered the kitchen, her hair twined into a damp braid, her face scrubbed free of smudges and dusted with a light powder, her lips gleaming with that burgundy gloss he’d admitted last night drove him wild.
