Nights With A Thief. Marilyn Pappano
their way to the doors. Something small enough to conceal, maybe even brazenly wear. Maybe he could persuade her to go to his hotel with him, to let him take down her hair and run his fingers through the curls. To undo the zipper of her dress and slide the fabric down her body, to discover what, besides gloves, was underneath it. Maybe...
Once inside the ballroom, where guests bored by fireworks chatted in small groups, she faced him, all calm and composed. “I appreciate your help, Mr. Sinclair.”
He wasn’t surprised she knew his name. He’d stopped being modest about his reputation—both of them—years ago. He was sure she realized that his assistance had been unnecessary. She might have balked at taking that first step off the balcony, but she would have found the courage.
“I appreciate your not throwing up on my favorite tux.”
The corners of her mouth twitched to avoid a smile. His gaze skimmed from that lovely sight to her ears—bare—then her throat, wrists, fingers, also bare. If she’d stolen one of David’s countless jewels, she wasn’t bold enough to walk out with it on.
“What were you doing up there?”
“Following you. They chose well when they named you Bella Donna. Most of us shorten it to just Bella.”
Nothing passed through her eyes—no recognition, surprise, admission. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
He leaned closer, realizing she wore no perfume, either. Scents lingered, created memories, caused downfalls. “There aren’t so many of us that we aren’t familiar with one another. The stories about you, Bella...”
An older woman, notoriously passionate for gossip, gave them a curious look as she approached. The diamond studs twinkling in her ears were worth easily twenty grand, and he’d received three requests to relieve her of the gaudy ruby bracelet around her wrist so the stones could be put into a setting that did them justice.
“Are those—”
“Real? Yes. Burmese. Ten stones of ten carats each. Worth somewhere around eight million dollars.”
“Where are her bodyguards?”
“Around.” When the woman stopped in front of them, he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “Aunt Gloria, I didn’t realize you were here.”
He caught the widening of Bella’s eyes, along with the gleam in Gloria’s expression.
“I imagine you were otherwise preoccupied. I saw you two disappearing from the ballroom. Our host didn’t, though. David was regaling a small group of us with stories of his adventures. Do you know how it feels to have every bit of air slowly sucked out of your body to the point you can’t think, can’t move, can’t even try to escape?”
She directed the question to Bella, who mutely nodded her head. Gloria smiled. “That’s our David. He has millions of millions, and in spite of that, he is undoubtedly the dullest and most boring man on earth.” Then she turned her smile to include Jack. “Of course, we only love him for his money, don’t we?”
Jack murmured a noncommittal response, then silence fell. His aunt was waiting for an introduction. Apparently, Bella figured it out and began to take tiny steps like a drunken crab, sideways and backward at the same time. When she put enough distance between them, her intent, no doubt, was to ditch him. His intent was to not let that happen.
He took hold of her arm, her skin warm and silken, her muscles tightening at his touch. “Aunt Gloria, this is my friend—”
“Lisette Malone. Of course,” Gloria said. “Someone pointed you out earlier. The gentleman you work with at the museum, I believe. The one with the damp palms.”
Lisette Malone. Most likely not her real name, but one these people would be much more comfortable with than Bella Donna.
Once more the corners of Bella’s—Lisette’s mouth twitched. “Mr. Chen.”
“Yes, that’s the one. I’m Gloria Mantegna. Even though I’m his great-aunt, Jack calls me aunt to my face and old bat behind my back.”
“Aunt Gloria,” he protested, but she patted his hand.
“It’s a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Mantegna,” Lisette said dutifully.
“My friends call me Gloria. My men friends call me Glory. Most of ’em are standin’ at attention when they say it.” Bawdy humor brought out traces of the Alabama accent she’d tried very hard to lose, and her bright, lascivious smile took ten years off her face. Considering that she was well-aged and astonishingly rich, Jack had no problem imagining long lines of men friends wherever she found herself.
He just didn’t want that image in his head.
Abruptly she made a shooing motion. “David’s heading this way. You two go. I’ll brave the boredom for you.”
Jack flashed a smile at his aunt, turned Lisette in a 180 and began strolling toward the main entrance.
“He won’t think it rude, your leaving without saying good-night?”
“It won’t be the first time.”
“That you’ve been rude?”
“That I’ve left without saying good-night.” He smiled as a few instances flashed through his mind: Viviana, Siobhan, Celene. Good memories.
Their steps echoed as they entered the cavernous hallway running through the middle of the castle. Servants crossed at various intersections, scurrying to salons, private meetings, up the grand staircase. None of them glanced at Jack and Lisette. The guards stationed every thirty feet did, though. There wasn’t a man in the ranks shorter than six foot five, or tipping the scales at less than 250 pounds.
As they passed under the scrutiny of the last guard, Lisette moved a step closer to Jack. “They’re a bit scary, aren’t they?”
“Just a bit? They terrify me.”
When they reached the entrance, staff opened doors tall enough to accommodate a double-decker bus. They walked through, met with cool air and a light breeze and, for Jack, a sense of relief. Not that they were free yet. That wouldn’t happen until they drove the four miles to the gate, where more guards awaited.
While valets went to retrieve their vehicles, Lisette tugged her arm from his grasp. “As I said before, thank you for the assistance.”
He pushed his hands into his pockets and studied her. “What did you take?”
No shifts in expression gave her away. She simply smiled and extended her arms out from her sides. “Do I look like I’m hiding something?”
His gaze slid over her with fine appreciation. “No. But appearances can be deceiving. And I’m pretty sure you weren’t crawling around that balcony just for the feel of the stone against your skin.”
The valet with her car returned first, saving her from a reply. There was no sign of the other valet with Jack’s rental, meaning she would have at least a couple minutes’ head start. “It’s been an experience,” she said, stepping away as the car stopped at the curb.
“I’ll see you again, Bella.”
She murmured something, then pulled a bill from nowhere to tip the valet. She gave Jack one last smile, the loveliest, sexiest, most beguiling of all, before getting into the car and driving away.
He hadn’t planned to let her go so easily, but plans changed. He knew the name she was using, and he knew where she was working for the moment. He would find her again.
Certain she hadn’t been followed, Lisette drove to the only home she’d ever known. She’d taken her first steps on its floors, eaten baby food at the kitchen table, screamed through too many baths to count