No eye contact. No visible sign of any awareness. If Benedict had made her, he was exceptionally good at hiding it. But that didn’t really come as any surprise to Lindy. No man could elude capture for so many years without being good.
Damn good.
This time her target led her to a traditional co-op building overlooking Central Park, the sort of place Lindy knew consisted of upscale apartments with large rooms, high ceilings and thick walls that cost more than her accumulated salary since the day she’d signed on with Secret Intelligence.
She recognized this particular building as the prewar variety, showplace of the wealthiest New York society families, modernized with a thrust of tall windows that revealed the lobby chandelier and the stairwell rising to several upper stories.
Joshua Benedict handed a card to the white-gloved doorman then swept inside as if he were the crown prince expected for tea, leaving her to bimble about on the street while he conducted business where she couldn’t see him.
Sometimes she hated surveillance.
Today was one of those times. She needed to find a less conspicuous place to ride out her watch. She couldn’t be sure whether he’d led her here intentionally. He would know that any interested parties could easily find out the names of the building residents.
In fact, the job would only take about two minutes of uninterrupted satellite uplink on her notebook. But Lindy stuck to her spot. If her target reappeared on the stairwell, he just might cut that time in half by showing her what floor he went to…
Luck was hers.
He took the stairs two at a time, not at a bound but with the fluid strides of a strong, long-legged man. Since he didn’t use the lift, she knew he only headed up a few flights, so, slipping the binoculars up her nose, she enjoyed the show.
Those lead-paned glass windows showcased the man as if he’d posed for a bloody portrait—and quite the dishy one at that. Zooming in closer, she admired the way his thighs played against his slacks with his movements, how the fabric pulled enough to give her a clear shot of his backside.
Mmm-mmm. Joshua Benedict’s profile had missed the part about him having the nicest bum she’d seen in forever, the kind that made a gal think about smoothing her hands over it. Lindy might have laughed at her own unexpected reaction to a target, but her instincts chose that exact moment to go live.
She spun around just as a no-nonsense voice barked, “Excuse me, miss.”
Not at all used to being taken by surprise, Lindy schooled her expression and stared at the uniformed security guard who frowned down at her from his superior vantage.
“Hullo, Constable,” she said cheerily, letting a bit of her British accent leak out.
She slipped off the sunglasses—the magnification made the man look like the worst sort of Picasso—and maintained eye contact. “Lovely spring afty, don’t you think?”
The man’s gaze didn’t waver, which suggested he wasn’t going to fall easy victim to her charm. Good for him.
“Not interested in the weather this afternoon. I’m interested in why you’re loitering.”
“Loitering?” She gave a sparkly laugh and toyed with the idea of admitting she’d been staring at a man’s bum.
A definite first in her experience.
But as the security guard looked all tetchy and by the book—relatively new to his job, she guessed—Lindy opted for a more conservative approach.
“Actually, I’m here on business.” She patted her carryall. “I’m with Hampstead, Heath and Associates. We’re based out of London with offices all over Europe and Asia. We’re scouting a North American site. Of course, the CEO will need housing if we open a location here. That’s where I come in—I’m checking out the neighborhood.” She tossed a glance back at the building, and the guard followed her gaze, clearly wavering.
“Do you have identification?”
“Of course. If you’ll let me go into my bag, Constable, I’ll give you my card. And my passport if you need it.”
The man inclined his head then stepped back to give her space. She produced a passport and business card that supported her claim and stood quietly while he inspected her credentials.
Americans were hyper-security conscious nowadays and rightly so, but that this guard would catch her with her binoculars snagged on a pretty sight and her usually sharp senses blinded to her surroundings was just plain unlucky.
Lindy was a stellar field agent, which was precisely why she’d been assigned this case. But she hadn’t done much more than surveillance yet, and for things to go pear-shaped so early on…she hoped this didn’t foreshadow what lay ahead.
“All right.” The guard gave a curt nod. “What else do you need before you can move on?”
“Nothing really. I’ve already researched the demographics on this and the other buildings we’re considering. The big boys will let me know which leasing agencies to make contact with, but I’ll be sure to tell them this co-op has the best security of the bunch.”
That earned a smile. “Well then, good day, miss.”
It was an obvious effort to move her along, so Lindy returned his smile, hiked her carryall higher on her shoulder and shoved off with a bright, “You have a good one, too.”
She could feel the guard’s gaze follow her down the street, where she rounded the first corner and ducked inside a conveniently located subway station to regroup.
Lindy had to act fast because she had no intention of losing sight of her target now. She had to return to that co-op without drawing the security guard’s attention again. No problem. Lindy liked challenges.
She hoped Joshua Benedict proved to be one.
JOSHUA NOTICED the woman as soon as she entered the gallery. Amid the attendees of the Classical Greek Antiquities exhibit opening, she somehow managed to look…fresh—no easy job in this human sea of designer labels, artful grooming and cosmetically-enhanced perfection.
Curious, he studied her from his position near a marble diorama of the Graces, where he sipped Moët and chatted with the exhibit’s benefactress, Lily Covington.
Perhaps Lily chatting with him better described what took place, as the society matron hadn’t stopped to draw air in a while. But Joshua didn’t mind participating in any conversation that left him free to observe this beauty who paused to admire an oil painting of Artemus with a quiver of arrows.
Maybe it was her flawless skin, touched with only the barest color to enhance a mouth designed to kiss. She wore a chiffon gown to distinguish her from the crowd of the flashy sequins and beads that defined American haute couture, the filmy off-white gown clinging to her body with classic lines hinting at all the long curves below.
She was subtle seduction as opposed to bold temptation, a woman who made him imagine two bodies close in the darkness and the sound of breathless sighs. Soft brown hair fringed around her face and neck, sexy for the way it framed her features. His gaze followed the graceful lines of her throat, and the pulse beating there, another place ripe for kissing.
He would have noticed this woman even if the gala kicking off this new exhibit hadn’t been a bore. But he couldn’t fault his hostess. As a member of the Covington family—one of the mainstays on the New York society scene since somewhere around the mid-nineteenth century—Lily had perfected hosting philanthropic events into an art form.
Select members of the Westbrook Philharmonic filled the gallery with music. Le Kevin, hailed as Manhattan’s latest culinary genius, catered the event with a menu of shellfish flown in from Maine and delicate hand-pressed pasta that melted on the tongue. Champagne flowed.
But not even Moët could wash away the taste of the business that had brought him to New York.
No, he assumed all responsibility for his current mood.
Forcing a smile, Joshua mouthed all the polite responses to Lily’s comments about the Graces under discussion while covertly checking out the lady in white, as he christened her.
The sight of her, at least, improved his mood.
This woman struck him as having much beneath her surface that she didn’t bother to hide. It was only a sense he got from watching her, but he didn’t question his perception. He was an exceptional judge of character.
A skill that always served him well.
Putting that skill to work now, he sliced his gaze across the crowd, passing over several potential prospects to mark the wife of a state senator who’d captured his party’s interest.
“I see Carolyn Vandeveer came in from Washington to attend tonight,” he said.
“She and the senator are wooing support for their upcoming presidential bid.” Lily’s tone remained unimpressed.
But Joshua knew his hostess would credit the senator’s wife with the appropriate attention. Lily respected the status of her social standing, and presidential hopefuls were only a small percentage among those who sought favor from the Covington family.
So Joshua maneuvered Lily away from the Graces with questions about another artifact and steered her in Mrs. Vandeveer’s direction. He needed to get about the business that had brought him to this museum. Only then would he be free to enjoy the night ahead.
To make the lady in white’s acquaintance.
Hooking up Lily and the senator’s wife over an urn, he participated in their conversation for a respectable few beats then begged his excuses and headed across the gallery.
Resisting the urge to glance at the lady in white, who’d been drawn into conversation with Jeffrey Baldwin of the Boston metals conglomerate—a slick bastard who never missed a trick—Joshua nodded to an usher and stepped into the hall.
While turning, he pitched a nickel behind him with a surreptitious motion, and the tinkle of the coin hitting the floor resounded exactly where he’d meant it to—inside the gallery. When the usher turned around, Joshua vanished down the hall that led to the restrooms.
Chattering voices over the smooth strains of classical music soon faded, yielding to the muted silence of an after-hours museum. Glancing at his watch, he pushed open the restroom door and entered a foyer decorated in the fashion of a gentleman’s drawing room. Joshua peered around the corner to confirm he was alone then retrieved his cell phone from a jacket pocket. He depressed a series of numbers.
The ring tone sounded only once before a gravel-voiced man picked up and asked, “You’re on schedule?”
“Yes. What about you?”
“No problems.”
“Good. Three minutes.”
Joshua severed the connection, depressed another button to activate the vibrating ringer and swapped the phone for a pair of black gloves. After donning them, he withdrew a small electronic device from his pocket and cracked the restroom door again. He glanced into the hallway to find it empty, although voices carried from the nearby ladies’ room.
Moving quickly past, Joshua raised the digital imaging device above his head and paused long enough to capture a shot of the dim hall leading to a stairwell exit.
The security monitor was positioned in the upper south corner of the ceiling, and he stopped directly beneath the camera to remain out of range.
It was a trick to balance with a foot on the narrow baseboard and the other bracing the wall, but even at six foot two, he couldn’t easily make the stretch to the ceiling. Slipping the captured image in front of the camera lens with a practiced move, he pressed down to activate the adhesive and secure the device to the crown molding.
And shut down the live feed. Until he removed the device, the security monitors on the basement level would show only the captured image of the empty hall, leaving him free to move to the stairway without detection.
He hoped this device was an unnecessary precaution. He’d arranged for tonight’s contact to bypass this security zone. But Joshua didn’t trust his fate to any man, and the idea of a camera documenting his travels into places that would raise questions wasn’t a risk he would take.
He trusted his fate to no one.
Not that tonight’s business associate presented a significant risk. This career police officer had more to lose than Joshua. In fact, until their business, this officer had been an upstanding citizen with an exemplary career record.
Unfortunately, no man was perfect, and Joshua had built a career out of uncovering other men’s imperfections.
Shaking off the thought, he moved quietly toward the exit at the end of the hall and slid through the doorway as he heard the ladies’-room door hiss open.
The third-floor stairwell was empty, but he waited until footsteps echoed below before beginning his descent. Joshua couldn’t remember exactly when he’d gotten so cautious, but cautious he’d become. Pausing in the shadows, he waited for his contact to appear for a visual verification.
There he was.
Dressed for tonight’s stint as a rent-a-cop, the man’s neatly pressed NYPD uniform fit snugly on his thick shoulders and barrel chest.
“Any problems?” Joshua descended the last few steps.
The officer shook his head. “We’re covered. I disarmed the sector. You brought the reports?”
Joshua ignored the question. “Let’s see the amulet.”
The man reached inside his pocket and withdrew a box.
Joshua had seen an auction-house photo of the White Star while researching this job. He’d thought the ivory amulet plain for Henri, who usually had an eye for more spectacular pieces. But the allure was the amulet’s legend, which prophesied love for the pure of heart and a cursed future for all else.
Joshua didn’t believe in curses, or in any luck except what he made for himself, but as he weighed the amulet in his palm, the ivory felt warm, somehow alive. He wondered if he imagined the sensation or if the police officer had noticed, too.
This NYPD veteran had bought his way out of an indiscretion on the vice squad about three years back. Joshua had uncovered this indiscretion and blackmailed the man into removing the amulet from the precinct property room. Then he’d arranged for immediate delivery. So far everything had gone according to plan. Not that he thought the officer would have had second thoughts about keeping the amulet.
The officer’s one indiscretion in an otherwise exemplary career hadn’t been hard to figure out—a substantial drug bust had gone down around the time the officer had been sending his twin daughters off to college: one at Yale, the other at Vassar.
Joshua suspected that facing Ivy League financial commitments on a policeman’s salary would have the noblest of men thinking twice about taking the high road when a windfall of drugs had fallen into his path.
That’s what had made this officer invaluable. He wasn’t a criminal, but a good guy who’d made a mistake. That distinction meant he could be manipulated.
But the officer’s luck wasn’t all bad. Joshua played fair. One unsupervised visit to a precinct property room, a stolen amulet and a meet on a museum stairwell, and the officer could go back to his wife and second mortgage with no one the wiser.
As Joshua turned the amulet over, he knew he’d chosen his target well—the officer was more interested in covering up a mistake than profiting by it.
Setting the White Star back inside the box, Joshua extracted a sheaf of papers from his inside jacket pocket. He waited while the officer skimmed the documents before asking, “You’re satisfied?”
“If I could trust I won’t see copies of these again.”
“I’m not interested in you, and the people I represent don’t know who you are. Those documents are payment for services rendered. No more or less.”
The man inclined his head in grudging acceptance. Joshua knew the officer didn’t believe him and wondered if it mattered.
Guilt only plagued men capable of feeling it.
Without a backward glance, Joshua took the stairs two at a time and paused with his ear to the door, listening for sounds from the restrooms, hearing no
thing. He cracked the door and peered down the hallway in both directions to find it empty.
Edging the door wider, he slipped through then eased the door shut behind him. It wasn’t until he’d taken a step into the hall that he heard a soft laugh.
Spinning toward the sound, he watched the lady in white emerge from another doorway.
She was smiling.
2
“WELL HELLO, beautiful,” Joshua said coolly, no trace of surprise in his voice. “Lose your way?”
She shook her head, a sultry move that drew his gaze to her pouty mouth, the impudent tilt of her chin. Though the dim light cast her in shadow, he could see humor flash in her gaze. “I wanted to catch you coming out of the loo.”
British, Joshua thought, which could explain why he’d picked her out of an American crowd. But nationality didn’t explain why she was waiting behind the exit door when the restrooms were down the hall. His instincts went wild. He wasn’t used to being caught by surprise.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked.
Whatever else this encounter might prove to be, it was a pleasure. Just seeing this woman up close meant admiring the way she leaned back against the wall, that dress hugging her curves with delectable precision. A long slit left her leg exposed from the knee, and he glanced down the length of shapely calf and ankle to a sandal that showcased a delicate foot.
“It seemed a crime to admire a sculpture of Eros when I was starved for good company.” She exhaled a sigh that managed to shoot his already-rushing adrenaline into the red zone.
“Old Jeff wasn’t filling the bill?”
“So you noticed me? I’d hoped you did, but to answer your question…no. Mr. Corporate Yank didn’t impress me nearly as much as he seemed to impress himself with his assets and company’s ranking on the stock exchange.”
Joshua laughed, deciding right then and there he wanted to continue this conversation. Unfortunately, he wasn’t free just yet. He would have to extricate himself from this lovely lady to remove the digital imaging device.
Into Temptation Page 2
