He peeked in the partially open door. Mia was dancing. She was graceful and beautiful as she twirled and leapt across the room. He leaned against the doorjamb to watch. When the music ended he clapped, and she jumped.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I reached over and your side of the bed was cold. You’re an amazing dancer.”
“I’m an adequate dancer.” She dabbed a towel on her forehead.
“You must dance often if you have your own studio.”
“Not as much as I’d like. I hate working out, but I love to dance. It’s also what I do when I need to sort my thoughts.”
He wanted to pry and ask what had drawn her to dance this morning. She had plenty of reason between her father and the forgeries, but he wanted to make sure she didn’t have doubts about them. “Everything okay?”
She nodded. “Is that coffee I smell?”
“I started a pot.” As she walked by, he touched her arm. “You can talk to me if you want. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
She paused and for a brief moment, he thought she was going to tell him what was going on. Instead, she said, “Right now coffee’s on my mind.”
He followed her to the kitchen. “Can I make you breakfast?”
“You cook?”
“Another requirement when you live in a houseful of kids. I’m no gourmet, but I can hold my own.” Without waiting for a response from her, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out ingredients for omelets. Before he had the chance to rummage through her cabinets to find a bowl, whisk, and sauté pan, she had the items on the counter.
Then she poured a cup of coffee and took a seat at the counter. “Show me what you got.”
He cracked eggs, chopped vegetables, and shredded cheese under her watchful gaze. While the eggs cooked, he wiped his hands on a towel. “There’s something else I need to ask about your father.”
She set her cup down and met his eyes.
“When Agent Stokes and I went back to reinterview people, we got some interesting information about the Devereaux painting.”
“What’s that?”
“Ingram’s provenance was bogus.”
“I heard that. It all caused quite the stir in the art community.”
“When we talked to Ingram, I asked to see the receipt of sale and he couldn’t produce one. He said he won the painting in a poker game.”
Her face went stony.
“He said he won it from your father. The thing is, if the Devereaux was your father’s, why would he have a forgery and then give it to Ingram?”
Mia shook her head. “He’s a scam artist. I wouldn’t put anything past him at this point. But at the same time, Max is no saint.”
“Did you know it had been your father’s?”
“No.”
She held his stare and he looked for any signs that she was lying. But even if she was, what did it mean?
Then she started to laugh. It began as a hollow sound but rapidly devolved to hysterical laughter. He flipped the eggs and gave her a moment to compose herself.
“This is funny?”
“Yes. My father thought he had a perfect life with perfect friends. Now they’re all turning on each other.”
She was a little wicked and he was getting a little turned on. He plated the omelets and took a seat beside her. “So about the party later.”
“I don’t know that it’s a good idea.”
“It’s really casual. Just a backyard barbecue for my sister Paris.”
“How old is she?”
“Seventeen today. She’s been working her ass off in summer school to make up credits so she can graduate on time after being in a series of bad situations. We’re all really proud of her. I think you’ll like my sisters.”
“What time is the party?”
“It starts around two, but it’ll go late. We don’t have to stay for the whole thing. I can pick you up by three?”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. What does one give a seventeen-year-old?”
“You don’t have to buy her a gift. I got her something.”
“I do not show up to a birthday party empty-handed. That would be an excellent way to make a horrible first impression.”
“Aw...” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You want to impress my family.”
“I like to impress everyone. It’s who I am.” She cut a piece of omelet and put it in her mouth.
Logan took a drink of his coffee while waiting for her verdict. “Well?”
“You can cook. I’ll have to tell Mae that she definitely did something right with you.”
He had a feeling Mae would spend ten minutes with Mia and fall in love with her. She wouldn’t be the only one.
* * *
Mia sat at a window table at Big Jones waiting for her mother. When Mia called to talk with Beverly about what was going on, her mother suggested they meet for brunch. Knowing that her news would upset Beverly, Mia chose Big Jones because the restaurant served Southern cuisine. Logan was not the only one capable of providing a bribe. Beverly loved beignets. And the beignets at Big Jones were almost New Orleans good.
Mia sipped her coffee and considered how to tell her mother everything that was going on. Of course, she wouldn’t be talking about her side project with Jared, but she needed to tell her the other things. Beverly arrived and brushed a kiss on Mia’s cheek.
“I’m so glad you suggested coming here for brunch. It’s been ages.”
“I know it’s your favorite.”
The waitress arrived, refilled coffee cups, and took their orders. Mia was still stuffed from Logan’s omelet, so she just ordered a fruit cup.
As Beverly added a half a pack of sugar to her coffee, she asked, “What did you need to talk about?”
“It can wait until the food comes.”
“Uh-oh,” Beverly said, setting her spoon down. “I knew I should’ve been suspicious when you wanted to meet here. You figured you could ply me with fatty, sugary dough and hand off your bad news. Just spill it, so you won’t ruin my brunch.”
Mia blew out a breath. “Are you sure? It’s a lot.”
“Tell me.”
“As you know, there have been a few forged paintings discovered among the artwork of people we know.”
“Yes.”
“Well, you know the man I’ve been seeing? Logan? He works for the FBI and he’s investigating the forgeries.”
“You’re dating an FBI agent.” Beverly held her coffee cup stiffly and lifted it to her lips. Before drinking she asked, “He knows your history?”
“It’s my father’s history. And yes, I led with that when we first met, and he asked me out anyway.”
“Excellent. When do I get to meet him?”
“That wasn’t what meeting for brunch is about. Logan is actually undercover, so you can’t tell anyone. He’s pretending to work for the insurance company that wrote the policies for the forged pieces. He’s trying to figure out where all the forgeries are coming from. He asked me to reach out to Keaton Bishop because Keaton was sending his Moreau to auction.”
Beverly set her cup back down. “Don’t tell me.”
“We went over there for dinner, and when I looked at the painting, it was obviously a forgery.”
“I bet Keaton blew a gasket. Poor Sheila.”
“Keaton was furious.” Mia turned her coffee cup in circles trying to figure out how to say the rest.
“I suddenly feel like I’m stuck in a late-night infomercial. But wait! There’s more.”
Mia chuckled. “Dad called me.”
Beverly’s face turned to stone, except for a fierce flash in her eyes. “What?”
“He actually called a couple of weeks ago to ask me for money because of my inheritance.”
“Oh my Lord. If I ever lay eyes on that ma
n again—”
“I told him you changed the parameters for access to my inheritance, so I still don’t have it.”
“Good girl. He knows better than to come to me for anything.”
“He said he might need my help using my connections in the art world. I let him believe I would help, and I immediately called the FBI. But then, after I told Keaton his painting was a forgery, Dad called the next morning. The Moreau painting was actually his. It’s his contingency and he’s trying to liquidate. He was quite angry with me for ruining his sale with Keaton.”
The waitress arrived with their food. Beverly studied her plate for a moment, then picked up a beignet and bit in. Once she swallowed the first bite, she said, “Is there more?”
Mia nodded and moved the fruit on her plate around with her fork. Part of her wanted to tell her mother everything about her plan, but protecting Beverly was her number one priority. “Logan told me that Max Ingram said that he won the Devereaux painting in a poker game from Dad. Did you know it had been his?”
“Of course not.” Beverly took another bite of her beignet and smiled. “But I learned years ago not to put anything past your father. Is that everything now?”
Mia matched her mother’s smile. “Yes.” It was only a small lie. “I didn’t want you to be blindsided if the FBI came to question you, or if Keaton called to tell you how angry I made him.”
“I appreciate the warning, but I can handle both the FBI and your father’s tiresome friends. Now tell me about Logan.”
Mia ate a couple of pieces of fruit to try to hide her smile when she thought of Logan. “There’s not much to tell. We’ve only been out a few times. Although he grew up here, he’s been living in New York.” She left out the part where he hoped to move back.
“You’ve always liked New York.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “We are nowhere near discussing moving in together.”
“But I can tell you like him.”
“I do.” That much she could admit. She shouldn’t like him as much as she did, which was why she shouldn’t go to a family party this afternoon, but she’d already agreed to go. “Now, hurry up and finish your sugary meal and you can work off those calories helping me shop for a birthday present for Logan’s seventeen-year-old sister.”
Her mother sniffed. “And you say it isn’t serious.”
It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. At least not until she took her father down through any means necessary.
* * *
After Logan kissed Mia goodbye, he met Stokes in the office and they ran down the information again, trying to force the pieces of the puzzle together. At noon, he grabbed his suit jacket. “I have a family thing, so I’m heading out. You should, too. We’ll start fresh on Monday.”
“Does Bishop have a security system? He swears he had the original, just like Ingram and Scott. What if they’re not the ones doing the forging? What if someone else is swapping them out?”
Logan sank back onto his chair. “We considered this, but there’s no evidence. Nothing suspicious. Other than these men themselves all attempting to sell art at once.”
“But if I was part of their inner circle, and I knew they were going to sell, I could make the trade, sell the real thing, and watch them rant and rave and then cry.” Stokes tossed her pen on the table, where it landed on top of the photos of the men in question. “If I had to put up with these pompous assholes, I’d want to see them fail.”
Mia’s attitude about her father’s friends came back to him. She was angry and bitter that they profited. She’d laughed hysterically this morning at the thought of them turning on each other.
“With the added bonus of getting rich off them? It makes sense, but it’s a stretch. That’s a lot of moving parts. Not to mention having black market connections to sell a hot painting. As shady as these guys tend to be, I can’t imagine them pulling that off.” Mia had money. She didn’t need more, and there was no evidence of her having the criminal leanings to know what to do with a stolen painting. He rose again. “Reach out to Cybercrimes and see if they can detect any chatter about selling these paintings. If your theory is right, they have to be selling. Why go through all of that to just sit on them?”
“I would. Sometimes revenge is a long game. The art won’t go down in value that much, right? Wait till things cool down and then sell.”
Mia could afford to sit and wait. But he couldn’t see her doing any of this. He trusted his gut, so he said nothing to Stokes.
“See what you can dig up and we’ll talk more on Monday. Enjoy your weekend.” He stopped to pick up ice and beer on his way to Mae’s. He’d promised he’d help set up for the party, but he wanted to have time to change into something other than a suit before picking up Mia.
He went around back and bumped the gate open with his elbow. He heard Mae yelling from the kitchen. In the yard, Joe was unstacking chairs while Sam was setting up a folding table. Logan set the cases of beer down, and said, “Hey, I’ll do that. Go grab the ice from my car.”
Sam propped a hand on her hip. “You think because I’m a woman, I can’t set up a damn table?”
“No, I’m just being nice. That table is almost twice as long as you are.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Real funny, asshole. I’m not that short.”
She wasn’t, and he knew it, but he liked to tease her. In truth, she might be taller than Mia. As if to prove him an idiot, she flipped the table over just fine.
“It’s about leveraging your body. But since you’re here, you can climb up to the rafters in the garage and get the spare coolers and chairs.”
Joe said, “I told you I’d get those.”
“I got it,” Logan answered.
“And ruin that fancy suit?”
“Nothing will be ruined. Cobwebs won’t stain.”
“Why are you all dressed up anyway?” Sam asked. “Hot date?”
“I went in to the office this morning. Working a big case.”
“So the date was a bust, huh?”
“No, actually Mia is coming to the party. I’m going to pick her up after I help here and go home to change.”
“Oh. Damn. You’re moving fast.”
“What?”
“Bringing a girl to not only meet the family but a whole-ass family party? You either really like her or you’re trying to drive her away.”
Logan shook his head, tossed Sam the keys for his car, and went to the garage. Helping Joe outside meant that he could dodge Mae’s curiosity. Or so he thought. After lugging the coolers and extra chairs out, he saw Mae standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Not even going to come in to say hi?”
“I was helping. Plus, I’m going be here for the party.” But he sighed and trudged up the stairs. “Hey, Ma. How are you?”
“Is your girlfriend coming to the party?”
“Yes. I’m going to pick her up at three. She enjoyed your cookies.”
“Cookie bribes almost always work. Except for that one girl Isaiah brought home. She was vegan.” Mae said the word like it was a disease.
“Do you need any help inside?”
“You know there’s always something to be done. I have a bag of potatoes that need peeling for the potato salad.”
Logan looked over his shoulder at Joe and Sam. “You guys got this?”
“For sure,” Sam said. “You have fun peeling potatoes.”
She was a little too cheerful in her dismissal and when he got into the kitchen, he knew why. The pile of potatoes was enormous. It had to be ten pounds.
Mae handed him a peeler. “Get to work or you’ll be late to pick up your girl. What’s her name?”
“Mia.”
“Hmm.” Mae turned back to the counter, where she was husking ears of corn.
“I’ll trade you.”
She shot him a look ove
r her shoulder. “You said Mia works at a museum?”
“Yeah, the Art Institute.”
“And where did you meet?”
“At an event for work. I’m undercover as an insurance agent and we’ve attended some of the same events.”
Mae turned around. “Does she know you’re not really in insurance? You know how I feel about liars.”
“Yes, I told her the truth, but my job sometimes requires me to lie. It’s for the greater good.”
She waved an ear of corn at him. “When you’re chasing bad guys, that’s fine. But when you’re starting a relationship, it shouldn’t begin on a bed of lies.”
“Ours did. I couldn’t introduce myself with the truth, but since we’ve been seeing each other, and she’s helping the investigation, I told her the truth.”
They worked in silence for a while and Logan made headway through the mountain of potatoes.
“Do you really like her?”
“I do,” he said simply. It felt foreign to admit that he liked someone as much as he liked Mia.
“What happens if you have to go back to New York or somewhere else?”
“We’ll go our separate ways. Her whole life is here.”
“And if you come home for good?” She gathered a pile of husks and shoved them in the trash.
He shrugged. “I told you. We just started dating. We like each other, but we’re not getting too serious yet. We both have a lot going on at work, so it’s not the best time to start a relationship.”
“Child, there is never a good time to start a relationship. You either want it or you don’t. If you do, you put in the time to make it work, and if you don’t, so be it.” She took the potato peeler from his hand. “I’ll finish this. You go home and clean up. I’ll see you soon.”
“You sure? I can finish the potatoes.”
“You move like a damn snail. Anybody else would’ve been nearly done. I don’t have all day to wait on you. Part of me thinks you’re still doing it on purpose like you did when you were thirteen.”
To Catch a Thief--A High Stakes Romantic Suspense Page 19
