Twice the Temptation (31 page)

 
“I’m not jealous,” he lied. “It’s just that generally your conversations with Walter in lieu of me signify trouble in the offing.” And hewas jealous, if only because Walter Barstone kept her connected to a past that still held plenty of temptations for her—and a great many more dangers.

 
“Well, I can’t argue with you and your multisyllabic British logic this time.”

 
Eight months of practice kept his muscles from tensing, though nothing could prevent the heady combination of worry and arousal that curled down his spine. “I’m listening.”

 
“First let’s crack open that bottle of”—she twisted his wrist to look—“Merlot and adjourn to the sitting room, my dear.”

 
She didn’t seem overly concerned about anything,
though adept as he’d become at reading her moods she could still on occasion surprise him. Shifting to tuck her against his side, he headed them back up the stairs to the main part of the house.

 
The sitting room sat on the ground floor directly adjacent to the south wing, and the wide floor-length windows opened onto a terrace that overlooked the lake at the rear of the house. She walked straight through to the terrace, while he paused to sweep up two glasses and a corkscrew.

 
Samantha had taken a seat at one of the small bistro-style tables on the stone terrace, and she pulled out the chair beside her for him as he set down the bottle and glasses. “Have I mentioned that I like this place?” she asked absently, her gaze on a pair of swans meandering across the water.

 
“Once or twice.” He studied her profile in the waning daylight. Nine years younger than he was or not, she matched him in every way possible. After eight months together, he couldn’t imagine being without her. “My ancestors had good taste, building here.”

 
She stirred, half facing him. “Speaking of your ancestors, did you have time to get the diamond appraised?”

 
“I did. The Nightshade Diamond is one hundred sixty-nine carats, surrounded by thirteen diamonds of thirteen carats each. On the open market, it’s presently worth approximately sixteen million dollars, American.”

 
“Wow.” She gave a low whistle. “Do you still have it with you?”

 
He pulled the velvet bag from his pocket and held it out to her. Samantha took it with her fingertips and immediately set it on the table between them, then wiped her hands off on her jeans.

 
“Sam, it’s not bad luck,” he commented, beginning to feel a little exasperated at her relentless insistence on superstition.

 
“Mm-hm. Thirteen diamonds of thirteen carats, and big blue’s one hundred sixty-nine carats. That’s thirteen times thirteen, by the way.”

 
“Fine. I was going to give it to you for real, but have it your way.”

 
“Fine. I don’t want your stupid cursed diamond. Just touching it this morning already caused me enough trouble, thank you very much.”

 
And again she hadn’t panicked at the hypothetical gift of a diamond. Richard set that thought aside for later consideration. “All right, unbelt,” he said, reaching for the bottle and corkscrew.

 
“That means talk, right? Not get naked? Because it’s getting a little chilly out here.”

 
“You know what it means. Stop stalling.” He twisted the corkscrew in and pulled.

 
“Armand Montgomery’s replacement showed up with the gems today. Henry Larson.”

 
“The assistant’s assistant, as I believe you referred to him.”

 
“Yep. AKA Inspector Henry Larson of Scotland Yard, Crime Prevention Unit. AKA, the guy currently staying in the Aquitaine Room upstairs.”

 
“Bloody—”

 
The cork came free, taking the top of the bottle with it. Red wine splashed out over his leg, across the table, and liberally on Samantha’s pale yellow blouse.

 
“Shit,” he muttered, setting the bottle down as Sam shot to her feet.

 
“See?” she said with an amused snort, wiping at her front. “Bad luck.”

 
“Bad bottle-making.” The wine had missed the velvet bag, but he nudged it farther away, just in case. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up. And tell me more about Henry Larson. Specifically why the devil he’s staying in my house.”

 
Chapter 4

 
Thursday, 9:45 p.m.

 
“If Scotland Yard wants to run an investigationthen let them run it. I’ve been wanting to do some fishing up at Maldoney in Scotland, anyway.”

 
“I knew you were going to say that,” Samantha returned, grabbing the bowl of popcorn from him and plunking herself down on the couch. “And what am I supposed to do while you’re catching bass at your moldy old castle?”

 
“It’s not moldy, and it’s trout.”

 
“I don’t care what kind of fish it is.” She flipped on the DVD player and dimmed the lights. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 
Scowling, he sat beside her. “You’re still in the process of starting up a business, which will see increased revenue based on your success. If the Yard stomps all over your ‘gig,’ as you call it, and the exhibit gets robbed anyway, that hurtsyour credibility. And therefore your future in your new-chosen line of work.”

 
“If it goes south I could always snatch up what’s left of the jewels and go on the lam. A couple million would replenish the retirement fund I’ve been dipping into to go straight.”

 
“When I go to hospital with chronic high blood pressure, I’m going to tell the doctor it’s your fault.” He reached over, sliding an arm around her shoulder and digging into the popcorn bowl with his free hand.

 
She smiled, sinking back against his side. He liked to be in physical contact with her, and skittish as she’d been at first, at the moment she couldn’t see a thing in the world wrong with it. Rick Addison had always felt so…safe, and so exciting at the same time. She could probably spend a lifetime figuring him out, if one of them didn’t kill the other before then.

 
But at least this time he was worried about her reputation in the security and stolen items retrieval business and not about whether she’d get blamed if something went missing. And he hadn’t freaked out when she joked about going crooked again. Wow. Either he was getting soft or she was losing her touch.

 
On the plasma screen, Godzilla roared. “This is the black and white one?” Rick asked. “With Raymond Burr? We’ve watched this seventy-two times.”

 
“We have not. And this is the original original. Before the U.S. distributor edited in Burr. Back when it was calledGojira. And sorry, it’s subtitled.”

 
“Have you seen it before?”

 
“I watched it a couple of weeks ago while you were in Paris.”

 
“So this is for my benefit.”

 
“You betcha. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll know all the Godzilla monsters from Gigan to Destroyah.”

 
“Good thing I’ve been taking notes, then.”

 
In all fairness, while he seemed to think her fascination with Godzilla was pretty funny, he watched most of them alongside her. Probably because she hadn’t lodged any complaints against his Dirk Bogarde WWII movie collection. Guys and their heavy artillery. Building-stomping aside, she actually preferred a little more finesse, herself. The basic Grants—Cary and Hugh—now, they could get the old ticker going.

 
“Do you have any idea who might go after the gems?” Rick asked abruptly.

 
So much forGojira tonight. “You have a very larcenous mind.”

 
The muscles of the arm he had draped over her shoulders tensed a little. She’d been waiting for that. He’d been amazingly easygoing throughout her explanation of Larson’s presence, and dinner had come and gone without a single thing being punched, kicked, or thrown. Now, however, he apparently wanted the details. She sighed.

 
“Okay, okay. Stoney’s trying to get some info, but his contacts aren’t as forthcoming as they used to be. There are probably three dozen guys and gals who think they could pull this kind of thing off, and maybe a quarter of them actually could. That was before I took over the security here, though.”

 
“So nobody can get past your setup?”

 
She shrugged. “I could, but I know all the wiring schematics. As for anybody else, I’m not so sure.”

 
“Then we have nothing to worry about. I suppose Scotland Yard can sniff around all they want, as long as they’re not sniffing after you. Fishing can wait until autumn.”

 
“Except that just becauseI know they’d never pull it off doesn’t mean nobody else will give it a try.”

 
“Okay. Fishing is on again.”

 
She elbowed him in the gut. “I’m not bailing on the exhibit, and you know it. Like you said, I’m at the beginning of a new business. And whether I’m handling security for valuables or recovering stolen ones, I have a reputation to maintain.”

 
“That’s what I’m talking a—”

 
“Not just with potential clients. With the guys who might think it would be fun to show up Sam Jellicoe. The ones I used to be in competition with, the ones who couldn’t handle the jobs that I could. If those guys make me look bad, I may as well become a professional trout fisherwoman, because anybody would be stupid to hire me to protect anything.”

 
“I’d still hire you.”

 
She glared up at him. “Oh, gee whiz, thanks.”

 
“Mm-hm. You’re welcome.”

 
Rick took the bowl of popcorn from her and set it on the table. Then he pulled her legs across his and leaned over to kiss her. One hand slid up the thighs of her jeans, dipping between them and pressing.

 
Arousal spun down her spine. Mm, this was more like it. Tomorrow was the local press preview and the last rehearsal, and then the exhibit opened on Saturday. Rick had a way of focusing her tension and releasing it that no one else had ever been able to manage. There was good sex, there was great sex, and then there was Rick Addison sex.

 
He pushed her back flat along the couch, following her down and sliding his hands up beneath her T-shirt. This time when he kissed her, their tongues danced. Samantha yanked the loose open shirt he wore down his arms, and he released her long enough to shrug out of it.

 
“You could go to Scotland without me, if you want to stay clear of this,” she said in a rush, arching her back as he pushed her bra up and flicked his tongue across one nipple, then the other.

 
“Stuff that,” he said, his voice muffled against her tits.

 
His voice reverberated and tickled into her chest. “Christ,” she muttered, digging her fingers into his black hair. “But the exhibit’s going to be here for four weeks, stud muffin. I’m going to be pretty busy anyway, so—”

 
“Forget it.” He unzipped her jeans and slipped his hand down beneath her panties. “I know how it’s going to be. You, watching over all those shiny rocks all day and not being allowed to touch any of them. And I’ll be here to sympathize with your frustration.”