In Hot Pursuit

by Joanne Rock

  “I’m ready.” She held her arms out at her sides, offering herself—her body—to him.

  Had he really talked himself into being noble? Had he honestly thought that even if he walked away from his career field, he shouldn’t be with her because she deserved somebody highbrow and sophisticated, someone who moved in the same world she did?

  Because right about now, with her teasing eyes glancing up and down his body, all that noble thinking sounded like bullshit to him. Thank God, Duke had drawn the curtain between the driver’s seat and the cargo area.

  Josh threw the map onto the narrow counter full of computer equipment and tugged her hands back down into her lap. He leaned forward into her personal space, nose to nose with her. “Do you have any idea what you are doing?”

  The question worked on several levels, and right now, he didn’t really care which version she answered.

  Something dark and maybe even a little dangerous glittered in her eyes. “Offering up my services, Josh. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  His sexually skewed vision cleared for just a moment—long enough to take in the defiant tilt of her chin, the purposeful pout of her lips. “You’re playing me like a damn harp today, aren’t you.”

  Her breathing was quick, shallow. Josh watched her chest rise and fall with each little pant.

  “Only if you’re going to try and pretend you don’t want me.”

  He released her wrists before he had a chance to do something stupid…like draw her to the van floor and relive their wrestling match. “It’s not that I’m pretending, Lexi. I’m just playing by your rules—all or nothing, right?”

  “Oh, please. I said ‘all or nothing,’ and yet I’m settling for a pretty damn painful gray area by making out with you in a cloakroom or by running to your side today to help you out. You can at least do me the courtesy of acting like you know I exist and that we’ve shared more than a cup of coffee together. You got it?”

  Hell, yes, he got it. In his quest to be noble, he’d forgotten a basic rule of play when it came to this woman. Lexi hates to be ignored.

  He brushed a hand along the side of her cheek, allowing his fingertips to graze her smooth skin, his knuckles to dip into the dark curls framing her face.

  Her eyelashes fluttered for a split second, tempting him to give her more attention than she was ready to handle right now—but this wasn’t the time. Nor was it the place. Besides, no matter what she said about hating to be ignored, Josh knew she wouldn’t settle for anything but everything from him.

  She opened her eyes and pinned him with her gaze as they rolled closer to Simone’s Long Island mansion. “So who’s going to put their hands down my blouse to attach the microphone? You or me?”

  IN THE LOGICAL RECESSES of her mind, Lexi thought she should probably be at least a little scared as she walked up the steps to Simone’s for her first undercover operation. But frustration fueled her steps as she trekked across the brick walkway, her breath fanning out in white puffs through the cool fall air.

  Despite her best effort at sensual enticement, Josh had made her do her own microphone installation, staunchly refusing to put his hands anywhere near her bare skin. Damn the man.

  His reluctance would have made the Lexi of a month ago believe she had all the allure of a houseplant. Not anymore. If nothing else, her relationship with Josh had given her a confidence in herself she’d searched for through self-defense classes, outrageous clothes and outspoken opinions.

  Although those things had bolstered her after a lifetime of being ignored by her busy parents, they hadn’t come close to assuaging her pride the way Josh’s hungry gaze had.

  Too bad he wasn’t willing to act on that hunger anymore. He’d turned his back in the van when she’d executed the perfect shimmy out of her silk blouse, all the while barking out instructions for what to ask Simone during their discussion this afternoon. She was thankful that Duke had remained safely on the other side of the curtain during their discussion. By now, however, Josh’s partner would be with him in the back of the van, listening to her wire transmission.

  Lexi pressed the doorbell and waited impatiently for James to answer the summons. She would ask all the right questions, elicit the answers Josh needed and then retreat to her own corner after this round. Josh might be willing to risk his neck for her fish or her parakeet, but he didn’t seem to want to put his heart on the line for her.

  The leaded glass front door swung open. “Good afternoon, Alexandra,” James greeted her, his butler delivery as flawless as ever. “You’re looking lovely today.”

  Lexi edged past him into the foyer, hoping for James’s sake that the Bertrands weren’t involved in anything illegal. She twirled on her heel, however, forcing herself to act the same as usual. “I’m wearing vintage Marc Jacobs, Jeeves. What else do you expect?”

  “Vintage Marc Jacobs? In my day, my dear, we called that wearing a lot of leg.” The sly old devil winked at her, although his precise elocution never wavered. “Shall I see if the lady of the house is home?”

  “Simone and Anton both, please,” Lexi requested, idly wondering what Josh and Duke thought of her performance so far. She knew they were listening outside in the surveillance vehicle; they’d triple-checked her tiny sound system before she’d entered the house.

  James skipped the bow he normally made to more formal guests, but he still added a butler-ish “If you would care for a seat in the parlor?” before he disappeared upstairs.

  He left Lexi to make her way into the front room and to wonder if Josh was already plotting his return to his quiet, anonymous life. With a quiet, easy-to-manage woman. Lexi had no idea what sort of woman he normally dated, but she had the feeling she herself was the anomaly.

  “I bet your usual one-night stand wouldn’t put herself on the line for your damn job,” she muttered to herself and any stubborn men listening to her via the microphone. She wandered into the parlor to wait.

  The room was mercifully devoid of silver statues, decorated French country style with everything in shades of cream and white. Gold picture frames and gold tassels on the white throw pillows grounded the room. As with Simone’s clothing designs, her mish-mash of decorating schemes proved she had a great eye for design—she just didn’t always know how to use it.

  Simone glided into the room first, wearing a burgundy satin smoking jacket Lexi would have killed for. Of course, Simone was actually smoking in it, so she trailed a cloud in her wake and tickled Lexi’s nose with fumes.

  “Gawd, Simone, how does James put up with you and your vices?” Lexi fanned the air with an architecture magazine she’d picked up from the sofa table.

  Simone flung herself onto the sofa and propped her feet on a matching white ottoman. “He usually ices me into compliance by blasting the air conditioner, but I think he feels sorry for me today because I have a hangover.” She took one last long drag on the cigarette, then stubbed it out in a crystal bowl that had no business being used as an ashtray. “So to what do I owe the pleasure? Have you decided to retract all your nasty statements about my designs?”

  Lexi tried to see past the woman’s biting tone, wondering if there could be anything to Josh’s insistence that Simone secretly envied her.

  Hard to believe, judging by the designer’s smug expression.

  “Not exactly.” Lexi stalled, revamping her approach to this discussion in light of the fact that Anton hadn’t entered the parlor yet. Josh was most interested in confirming that Anton ran Simone’s business—a fact that apparently wasn’t supported in any legal or tax documents. “After our chat last night, I thought I’d come by and see some of your new designs. Is the jacket yours?”

  Lexi plunked down on the couch beside her and fingered the silk of the smoking jacket.

  “You like it?” Simone looked stunned, as if she’d swallowed a horse.

  “I love it.” Which was the honest truth, but Lexi still felt guilty for engaging in this conversation when she had ulterior motives of infor
mation gathering.

  Simone jumped off the couch as if her hangover was a long-forgotten memory. Pulling a thick sketch pad out of the bookcase lining one white wall, she kept up a running monologue. “I’ve got a ton of new stuff in here, but I’m only producing about half this fall. I never thought you’d really give me a fair shake, Lex. I mean, you’ve always been so bitchy to me—no offense.”

  Lexi fought the urge to quibble about who had been bitchy all these years. After all, Lexi hadn’t been the one cutting off the hair on all of Simone’s Barbie dolls or stealing Simone’s homework assignments for French class.

  Instead, as Simone shoved her design book in Lexi’s lap, she seized on a piece of information she thought Josh might be able to use. “You’re only producing half of these?”

  Anton chose that moment to join them, clearing his throat in the doorway. “Well, if this isn’t an unusual sight. I never thought I would see Snow White and the Wicked Queen sitting down over a sketch pad together.”

  He wore a taupe suit that might have been Hugo Boss, but it had seen better days. In fact, his whole ensemble looked like he’d slept in it. A teenage boy trailed in Anton’s wake wearing beat-up jeans and a jacket with high-tech designer sneakers that might have been just lifted out of the box.

  “Hi, Anton.” Lexi smiled at Simone’s brother. “Who’s your friend?”

  Anton pulled on his shirt cuffs and straightened his tie. “This is Brad. We’re going to play tennis.”

  The boy didn’t look like Anton’s usual tennis partners, but that was hardly her business. Before she could give it any more thought, Simone nudged her and pointed to a purple smoking jacket on the first page of her book.

  The design on paper was more contrived than the slouch version Simone wore, but Lexi was too aware of her mission now to concentrate on the designs. “It’s gorgeous, Simone, but why aren’t you producing all these?”

  “Because Anton is very stingy,” Simone supplied, flipping forward a few pages in the book. “He said there was no point in making them all, since you would pan them, anyway. Apparently, we lose money whenever you gripe about my clothes in your column.”

  As much as it grated, Lexi decided to play stupid for purposes of the surveillance tape. “We? I thought Simone Bertrand Designs was your company, Simone.”

  Simone frowned.

  Anton lit a cigarette from the pack Simone had left lying on the sofa table. An intriguing move on his part, considering Lexi had never seen him smoke.

  “It is Simone’s company, Lex,” he answered smoothly. “But as her brother, I try to give her advice on how to conduct the business soundly.”

  “Oh, please.” Simone snorted. “You mean, you choose which checks to write for me. I could have had a good year in the magazines if Lexi liked my things and said so in her column, Anton. You should have let me trust my instincts and produce all the designs.”

  Anton strode over to Lexi and slammed the book shut in her lap. Lexi noticed the boy—Brad—jumped at the sound.

  “We wouldn’t have had enough money to finance them all, anyway, Simone.” He smiled as he said it, but the words were edged with anger, frustration.

  Or was Lexi just being paranoid?

  Either way, her work here seemed to be done. She’d wrested an admission that Anton was writing the checks for Simone’s business. Maybe now Josh could get his warrant to follow up on the arson and smuggling investigations.

  Lexi set the design book aside and rose from the couch. “We can always talk about this over lunch next week, Simone. Or else just make sure to invite me to your show—”

  “No!” Simone grabbed Lexi by the arm. “Now is a fine time.” She reached for her sketches, glaring at her brother. “Anton and Brad are on their way to play tennis anyway, right?”

  Anton paced and smoked, not answering for a moment.

  Lexi held her breath, hoping like hell he would just leave.

  Finally, he nodded.

  Lexi sighed in relief as quietly as she could.

  But after he ground out his cigarette in the crystal dish, he headed right toward her.

  Once again, Lexi tensed.

  Anton stopped a few inches in front of her and held his cheek out for her to kiss.

  The age-old hello and goodbye gesture of the design world suddenly turned her stomach. Still, if it signaled the man’s exit…

  Lexi had leaned forward to kiss the air beside his jaw when he grabbed with both hands and turned his lips to hers to kiss her full on the mouth.

  In the back of her mind, she registered Simone’s squeal of disgust at Anton’s breach of etiquette as Lexi pushed at Anton’s shoulders. Too late, she realized she should have protected her body instead of shoving at his. He groped her right through her silk shell until his hand landed on—

  “A wire.” He broke off the kiss and ripped the small microphone from its nestling place between her breasts.

  She stared at the little piece of electronic equipment for one horrified moment. Lexi wobbled as she spun on her heel to run, cursing Manolo Blahniks for the first time in her life.

  “Not so fast.” Anton grabbed her before she could go anywhere, producing a sleek black gun from his waistband. He pulled Lexi back to his chest, tucking the gun up under her rib cage for good measure. “I’ve been safeguarding your scrawny butt from Simone since you were ten. You can damn well pay me back with a little protection today, Alexandra.”

  15

  JOSH EXPLODED through the van door as soon as the tap went dead. He charged across the lawn into the bushes just below the Bertrands’ parlor window.

  He cursed Anton Bertrand, but not nearly as much as he cursed himself for putting Lexi in danger.

  How the hell had a simple dig for information escalated into a hostage situation in the course of five seconds? From the muffled sounds on the other end of the surveillance tape, Josh hadn’t been able to tell what had happened in the few moments Anton was supposedly saying his goodbyes. But after hearing Simone’s cry, Lexi’s muffled yell and the recording turn to static, Josh hadn’t waited around to discuss the implications of the sounds.

  Lexi was in trouble. Big, no-holds-barred, damn trouble. All because of Josh’s impatience with his drug case and his stupid-ass decision to capitalize on Lexi’s relationship with the Bertrands to gather more information.

  As the sound of static had filled the van, Josh had burst out of the vehicle to sprint across the lawn, Duke on his heels. Duke had taken one side of the house, and Josh had taken the other; presumably, Otis would be calling for backup.

  Now Josh eased himself up to the windowsill and peered inside, grateful he’d studied the floor plan of the home.

  He was just in time to see Anton Bertrand hustle his sister and Lexi out of the room through a narrow archway in the back, while some kid Josh didn’t recognize locked the front door to the parlor behind them.

  The teen’s patched jeans and threadbare shirt paired with two-hundred-dollar sneakers reminded Josh of another kid he’d tangled with in the course of his drug case. A juvenile offender who hadn’t blinked at shooting a cop—and who’d wound up dead.

  Josh willed the kid to hurry, because as soon as Gangster Junior was out of the room, Josh would be through the window to follow Lexi.

  Seconds dragged on in slow motion until the teen’s sneakers sped off under the archway. Josh poised his gun, ready to punch his way through the glass—until the locked parlor door opened from the hallway. He cursed the delay, wondering who the hell else could be in the house for him to have to take on….

  Jeeves.

  Josh banged on the window as the Bertrand butler was reaching for the telephone. He trusted Lexi’s instincts that the man wouldn’t be involved in the family’s shady dealings.

  Besides, he needed all the help he could get.

  James moved across the parlor like a rookie showing off his most impressive moves. The old guy pried the window open and shoved a floor lamp out of Josh’s way.

&n
bsp; “I was just about to call the police. He’s got Alexandra—”

  Josh hauled himself into the house and pushed past the butler. “Where?” He was already headed toward the archway in the back of the room.

  James shadowed him, keeping pace step for step. “My guess is the wine cellar. Two rights and a left, then down the stairs.”

  “Got it.” Josh started running before the words left his mouth. “Let my partner in,” he shouted over his shoulder. “And then you’d better make tracks out of the house.”

  Even from three rooms away, he could hear the old man’s answer, “Like hell.”

  Shit. The last thing Josh needed was for another civilian to get mixed up in his hostage situation, although he had to admire a man who looked out for Lexi. Hell, the old-timer could probably take care of her better than Josh did. Surely Mr. Manners never would have allowed Lexi to involve herself in a high-stakes smuggling case.

  Two rights and a left later, Josh tore down the stairs to an arched wooden door with a sophisticated locking mechanism. He stared at the computerized keypad, wondering if he should risk wasting more time with an effort to jam the code and open the lock, or if he should follow his impatient trigger finger and simply start shooting at the security device.

  Frustration coiled inside him along with a healthy dose of fear. Fear for Lexi. Fear that he wouldn’t play something out right and she’d wind up getting hurt because of him.

  Still, logic won out. Josh ran a series of quick tests on the keypad and succeeded in jamming the mechanism. He slipped inside the door without a sound, but from the depths of the darkened cellar, Anton’s voice halted him.

  “Every step you take puts the glamour queen a little more at risk, Winger.”

  Josh couldn’t see three feet in front of him in the shadowed cellar, but he could hear a woman crying. The sound wrenched his gut, reminding him how selfish he’d been to involve Lexi in this mess.