Sleigh Bells and Snowstorms

Chapter 1

Jensen

Pretending to ignore the woman at the bar, I casually leaned against it and adjusted the cuffs of my suit jacket.

As predicted, her eyes immediately moved to me, holding there as she shifted toward me.

The change was almost imperceptible, but I was a master of my craft, deftly keying in on the subtle alteration of her posture, the openness in her body.

Still, I ignored her, checking my watch as if I were impatient for something, and cast a hard look at the bartender. She responded to that too—lifting her eyebrows and pressing her lips into the hint of a smile.

Her dark hair was sleek, in an elegant updo that matched the formality of her gown.

Deep red with a hint of shimmer, thin straps, plunging neckline, a high slit up one thigh, and stilettos that reminded a man to be careful.

She was beautiful, if you liked that sort of thing—sculpted features, thick lashes, full red lips, long manicured nails.

She looked expensive.

It fit. We were in one of the most luxurious hotels in New York City.

It was decked out for the holiday season, with a massive Christmas tree in the lobby decorated in silver and gold.

Garlands, wreaths, and soft white lights were everywhere, and instrumental Christmas music played in the background.

I flicked my eyes in her direction, and she glanced away, feigning disinterest. I almost smiled. So that was how she wanted to play.

The bartender—she was young and pretty, dressed all in black—came over to take my order. She chewed her lip, and her cheeks flushed as I ordered a scotch, neat.

“I like your accent,” she said.

“Americans usually do.”

“You’re British?”

I nodded and looked away, hoping to dissuade further conversation.

Pretty as she was, I wasn’t there to flirt with the bartender.

I was angled so I could still see the woman in the red dress and noted a hint of jealousy flash across her face.

She liked attention, and it was increasingly irritating her that I refused to give her mine.

Naturally, I continued to tease her with apparent indifference while the bartender served my drink. I took a sip, the amber liquid sliding pleasantly down my throat.

Finally, I deigned to take notice of her.

Turning, I let my eyes sweep up and down with exaggerated slowness. That pleased her. She gave me a similar once-over, and the corners of her mouth lifted.

“Evening.” I looked her up and down again and moved closer. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Her eyes widened as if my offer surprised or maybe even offended her, and she answered in a French accent. “Pardon me, sir. How do you know I’m not here with someone?”

I didn’t bother to look around. “If you are, I daresay he’s unsuitable for having left you alone.”

“Quite so. A woman can’t be too careful.”

“Indeed, she cannot.” I continued moving closer and took another sip of my drink. “But I know you’re alone.”

“How do you know this?”

I met her eyes, my gaze intense. “Because I’ve been watching you.”

She gasped as if that shocked her. I doubted it.

“That’s terribly rude.”

“Is it?” My lips turned up in a devilish grin. “And can you blame me? You must know what that dress does to a man.”

“All right, a drink. It’s the least you can do. That, and tell me your name.”

“Arthur Kingston.” The pseudonym came easily. It was one persona of many. “And you are?”

“Delphine Moreau. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Arthur.”

“I assure you.” I held out my hand, and when she placed hers in mine, I lifted it to my lips and brushed a light kiss across her knuckles. “The pleasure is mine.”

I signaled the bartender, and Delphine requested a martini. The banter that followed verged on boring—for me, at least. She engaged with increasing attention and not-so-subtle suggestion. I played the part she expected—the predator waiting for a chance to seize his prey.

Maple’s voice, her accent matching mine, spoke quietly in my earpiece. “This is going well.”

“Indeed,” I said, managing to make the reply appear to be for Delphine.

The earpiece I wore was essentially invisible, but it gave Maple Exton, my trusty handler, a listen-in to all that went on.

“I thought she’d at least make you try,” Maple said, her tone taking on a bit of a pout.

If I hadn’t been in the middle of a rather important seduction, I would have rolled my eyes. Of course it was going well. I was Jensen Lakes. Women—especially women like Delphine—never made me work very hard.

So much the pity.

Interestingly, Delphine did seem to be alone—for the time being, at least. I was well aware of my surroundings, managing glances around the bar, and I hadn’t seen anyone watching us.

Her minions were in the hotel. They had to be. But she’d apparently dismissed them for the evening.

Maple was right. It was going well.

“Delphine, I must say, I’ve noticed that no one is appearing to rescue you. I fear you really are alone.”

She sighed. “Sad to say, I’m far from home in a city of strangers.”

The corner of my mouth lifted. “That must be lonely.”

Her eyes met mine, full of heat and suggestion. “Very.”

“I can help with that. For tonight, at least.” Licking my lips, as if anticipating the taste of her, I traced a finger along her jawline. “Shall we go upstairs?”

A flush hit her cheeks, and she hesitated before answering. “I don’t usually do things like this.”

I grinned. She was a good liar. “Neither do I.”

“You tease me.”

“Oh, yes. And I can assure you, I’ll tease you more before the night is over.” I leaned in so my mouth was close to her ear and lowered my voice. “Trust me. You’ll love every second of it.”

Her body trembled, and her breath caught.

“Are you going to make me regret this?” she whispered.

“No. You know you want this, Delphine.”

As if I’d already found the spot to drive her crazy, she took a shuddering breath. With the way I stood close enough to devour her and she gazed at me with parted lips, we must have looked almost obscene.

She nodded. I smiled in triumph.

“Your room or mine?” she asked, her voice breathy.

“Yours.”

“That was bold,” Maple said in my ear. “She’s not actually going to let you in her room, is she?”

Of course she was. I had the situation well in hand. Delphine had no idea who I really was.

With my hand on the small of Delphine’s back, I led her to the elevator. No one followed, and the hall was empty when we emerged onto her floor. Her room was around a corner, and when she unlocked it, I followed her in.

As soon as the door shut behind us, I pushed her up against the wall. But I didn’t kiss her. Attractive as she was, my desire for her was feigned.

And she was just as likely to put a knife in my back as return the kiss.

Instead, I caressed her jaw before moving my hand to wrap around her throat. Her eyes flashed with lust. She liked it.

“The things I’m going to do to you tonight,” I said, my voice low, and her mouth lifted in a smile. “Do you know what I want?”

“What?”

“You, in the shower.”

“What are you implying? That I’m too dirty for you?”

“On the contrary. I like it dirty.” I tightened my grip on her throat, and she whimpered. “Can you be a good girl for me?”

Her smile was wicked. She was not a good girl, but she’d play one for me.

“Take your clothes off, get in the shower, and lather up that exquisite body so you’re nice and slick. Then I’ll join you. We’re going to spend our evening doing unspeakable things.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Call it a threat.”

She bit her lower lip, and I let her go, taking a step back. With a sultry smile, she sauntered into the bathroom and softly shut the door.

Without a second’s hesitation, I got to work. Pulling a small tool from an inside pocket, I used it to jam the lock on the bathroom door. It wouldn’t hold her for long, but I only needed a minute.

“She fell for it, didn’t she?” Maple asked.

The shower turned on. She hadn’t noticed the door.

“We knew she would,” I answered, speaking quietly as I went straight for the safe in the small closet. Our intel indicating Delphine had a weakness for assertive men in nice suits had proven out. “It’s why you sent me.”

“It could still be a trap.”

“Everything in this line of work could be a trap.” I took another device out of my pocket and attached the electrical probes to the lock.

In a few seconds, it would reprogram the code, and I’d be in.

If that didn’t work, the small explosive I also carried would do the trick.

It would make more noise—and make my exit more difficult—but it was a suitable backup plan.

“And you’re more than happy to spring their traps, aren’t you?”

“Just let me do my job.”

Delphine’s voice came through the bathroom door. “Arthur?”

The reprogrammed code flashed on the screen, and I entered it, disengaging the lock. My lips curled in a smile of triumph as I pulled out a carefully wrapped bundle and peeked inside.

It was an ancient Greek terra-cotta figurine—now worn with age—of a woman in a long dress. The priceless piece had been stolen from a private collection in Germany.

I worked for a secretive organization of thief hunters who tracked down stolen jewelry, art, and antiquities. Often the artifacts were priceless, like the Greek figurine I held in my hand. I was there to steal it back.

The shower turned off, but Delphine didn’t call out again.

“I have it,” I whispered to Maple as I pocketed my tools and slipped the figurine into my jacket.

“I have a strong suspicion you need to get out,” Maple said. “Now.”

Delphine rattled the door. “Arthur? What’s going on?”

A second later, I was out the door.

“I’m out,” I said, heading for the stairs. We were on the eighth floor, but I couldn’t risk an elevator.

“Are you sure she’s alone?”

“I didn’t see anyone, but…”

Footsteps sounded behind me. Multiple people. They sped up, and I chanced a glance over my shoulder. Two men in suits.

“There they are,” I said, sprinting for the stairway entrance.

The footsteps followed.

“What floor?” Maple asked.