Twice the Temptation (39 page)

 
“Or,” he put in hurriedly, “maybe it’s just Bryce. One of his games.”

 
“That’s not very helpful. Is it one of his games where he’s just teasing, or one of his games where he wants to prove he’s better than me?”

 
“My crystal ball’s in the shop. You know him better than I do, Sam. What do you think?”

 
Samantha blew out her breath. “I don’t know. I warned him off pretty directly, but then Rick went all King Kong on him. Bryce used to do shit just because I told him not to, but I’m hoping he’s got more sense now.”

 
Movement by the door caught her attention, and she looked up in time to see Rick’s backside heading away down the hall.Crap . She pushed upright.

 
“Gotta go, Stoney.”

 
“But the—”

 
Snapping the phone closed, she tossed it onto the desk and sprinted out the door. “Rick!”

 
When she reached the master bedroom they shared, the door was locked. Oh, like that would stop her.

 
“Very mature,” she called, banging on the old oak.

 
As she dug into her pocket for a paper clip, she tried to bury the ill feeling in the pit of her stomach. Obviously
he’d overheard her conversation with Stoney. His usual response to realizing she’d kept something from him, though, was to fling it back in her face.

 
Oh, swell. She’d kept enough secrets from him that she’d been able to develop a catalog of his responses. Samantha twisted open the paper clip and slipped it into the door lock. A second later the lock popped, and she turned the handle.

 
Opening the door, she walked into the room. And stopped.

 
“Close the door,” Rick ordered.

 
She closed the door. Okay, she could add another entry to the catalog of his responses. “What are you doing?” she asked.

 
“What does it look like I’m doing?”

 
“It looks like you’re taking off all of your clothes.”

 
He straightened from removing his second sock. “That would be correct.”

 
“Why?”

 
“Because I’m going to take a shower.” He straightened, naked and hot as anything.

 
Samantha frowned. “You heard me talking with Stoney, right?”

 
“I did. Walter doesn’t have any leads on who might have hired Bryce Shepherd, I presume?”

 
“That’s right. He might be freelancing.”

 
“Then I imagine you’ll have to keep a watch out for him until the exhibit leaves.”

 
“Since I don’t have his timetable, yep, I imagine I will.”

 
He looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. If you’ll excuse me.”

 
“No.”

 
Halfway to the bathroom, he stopped. “Beg pardon?”

 
“I know you heard me talking about how well I knew Bryce. So don’t give me that excuse-me shit.”

 
“Let’s continue this in the bathroom, then, because I’m getting a bit chilly.” Without another backward glance he left the room.

 
Samantha stood there for a minute. This was not the usual Rick Addison response to learning something she’d been trying to keep quiet about. Hell, the second he’d seen her talking with Bryce he’d been ready to start beating heads.

 
What if he’d given up on her? A chill ran through her chest. She’d worried about that day, when he decided he’d put up with enough of her very colorful past—and present, apparently—and just stopped caring. She’d tried not to lie to him. In fact, she told him the truth more often than she ever had anybody else in her life, with the possible exception of Stoney.

 
The water turned on in the bathroom. He was really just going to jump in the shower. Clenching her jaw, her chest still tight with unaccustomed worry, she watched steam begin to seep into the bedroom. She could break into a mansion and lift a Rembrandt like nobody’s business, but relationships were hard. This one was hard—because it mattered.

 
Richard glanced at the half-open bathroom door once more, then stepped into the shower. If he hadn’t traveled in the realm of high-stakes business for the past twelve years, he wouldn’t have been able to shrug off his anger well enough to fool anyone.

 
He wanted Samantha with him for the rest of their lives. But he couldn’t accomplish that by himself. And
so now it was her turn to decide how to handle this latest little revealed secret of hers, even if it half killed him to jump in the shower without first confronting her.

 
The shower door swung open, and Samantha in all her naked glory stepped in with him.Thank God .

 
“Bryce and I were together for about a month,” she said, “about two years ago.”

 
Richard wanted to ask how they’d met, why they’d parted company, and whose idea it had been to go their separate ways. Instead he lathered soap across his chest. “None of my business,” he said aloud.

 
Her lips twisted. “I can’t tell if you’re throwing a tantrum or if you really don’t care,” she returned. Her eyes lowered. “Though I can see that you’re interested right now.”

 
The one part of himself he couldn’t control while naked and in the shower with the woman he loved. “What do you want my reaction to be?” he asked. “Not to wanting you. To the other bit.”

 
“That’s not really fair,” she noted after a moment. “I see pictures of you and Julia Poole in all the old magazines lying around the dentist’s office. I don’t throw a tizzy while I’m getting my teeth cleaned.”

 
“You don’t see me in new pictures with Julia. I saw you with Bryce Shepherd just yesterday.”

 
“We weren’t naked and doin’ it on the display case, doofus.”

 
“But you were at one time. Not necessarily on a display case.” If they had been, he absolutely did not want to know about that.

 
“Yep, we did the deed. Just like you did with Miss Golden Globes.”

 
He clenched his jaw. “I thought you weren’t jealous of Julia and me.”

 
“I’m not. But I don’t have to like her, either.”

 
In a perverse way, it pleased him to hear her say that. Richard reached out to stroke her breasts with his soapy hands. “I don’t like Shepherd. But you’ll notice that I didn’t throw a tizzy in your office.”

 
“Okay, points for you. But you lose some for jumping all over him yesterday.” She patted his cock gently, like it was a faithful dog. “And I’m not going to have sex with you just to make you feel like you’re planting your British flag in my Tranquility Base, sweetheart.”

 
“You’re—”

 
“I told Larson that we’re having dinner up here, by the way. I’m mad at him for being stupid.” He thought he heard her snicker as she backed out of the shower and shut it again.

 
So much for his grand plan to teach her a lesson. Richard glanced down at his lowering flagpole. “Sorry, lad,” he muttered. “Maybe later.”

 
Quickly finishing his shower, he went back into the bedroom to find Samantha gone. All hope of predinner sex vanished with her. Grumbling, Richard dug into his wardrobe for a jumper—sweatshirt—and jeans. Craigson would be gone for the night now, which meant that Bill Harrington would be on night duty. Sam and Craigson had a rapport that only thieves seemed to share—a bit like old army buddies, he imagined. Harrington, though, was strictly business, which meant he could be reasoned with.

 
Down in the cellar, he slowed as he reached the security office door. Harrington was definitely in there with somebody, but it didn’t sound like Samantha.Larson , he decided after a moment of listening to the muffled voices.

 
He punched in the security code and opened the door.
“Hello, Harrington,” he said easily, then lifted an eyebrow as he spied Larson standing over the night security supervisor. “Is something wrong with the exhibit?”

 
“No, sir. Nothing.”

 
“Then what is the museum’s assistant assistant curator doing down here?”

 
“Debating security measures,” the inspector said shortly. “Excuse me.” With a stiff nod he left the room.

 
“Trouble?”

 
“No, sir.” Harrington glanced at the door as it swung closed. “Sir, I think you and Miss Sam should know that Mr. Larson’s not actually with the V & A. He’s an inspector with Scotland Yard.”

 
“How did you discover that?”

 
“The git told me. Flashed his badge, wanted one of the extra radios.”

 
“Did you give him one?”

 
“He said he would dig up something on me if I didn’t. When I was younger, well, I did a few—”

 
“No worries, Harrington.” Samantha had found yet another lost, illegal puppy, apparently. “You could answer a question for me, though.”

 
“Certainly.”

 
Richard turned a chair to sit on it backward. “If someone trips an alarm in the exhibit hall, how does Samantha get notified?”

 
“She’d probably hear it,” the guard returned with a snort. “She said a silent alarm is to nab a bloke on the way out. She wants them stopped before they get in, and she wants ’em to know trouble’s coming.”

 
And it would probably frighten the bejeezus out of all lower-level thieves who managed to get that far—which most wouldn’t. He didn’t doubt for a second, though,
that Samantha could get in, take everything including the rafters, and leave again, all without causing the sensors even to twitch. “That makes sense,” he said belatedly. “Mechanically what happens, though?”

 
“Oh. Right.” Harrington turned his chair to face the computer monitor. “If any sensor trips, the system calls the authorities, turns on all the exterior lights, puts out an automated alert on the portables, and dials Miss Sam’s cell phone.” He grinned briefly. “She set her ring tone to the theme fromPsycho .”

 
Of course she had. “Can you add my phone to the list?”

 
“I, ah, well, Miss Sam didn’t—”

 
“The exhibit hall does belong to me, after all, even if the contents don’t.”

 
“You’re right about that, sir. Give me the number you want dialed, and I’ll add you to the list.”

 
Richard recited the number and waited while Harrington ran through several computer screens, adding information as he went. Craigson probably would have complied as well, buthe would have told Samantha about it. Then she would have started a new tirade about who’d been entrusted with what. He preferred to avoid both the tirade and the explanation, where he would have to reveal that it wasn’t as much about trust as it was about keeping Samantha safe. And if that alarm went off and she charged in to confront an old lover, he intended to be there to provide backup or whatever else she might need. If that help involved beating Bryce Shepherd into paste, then so be it.