34. Is That a Diamond in Your Pocket…?
34
IS THAT A DIAMOND IN YOUR POCKET…?
Jake
She looked good.
But then, that seemed to be her specialty.
Wearing a turquoise sundress that hugged her curves, she walked down the block toward me. With her looking so carefree, all I could think about was smothering her in kisses. Cupping her face in my hands, lacing my fingers through that blonde hair.
All these desires were annoyingly distracting.
We had business to do. Catered lunch to order. A mission to accomplish.
I’d chosen a spot outside at a café a few blocks away from the gallery. A Frommer’s guidebook lay open on the table, announcing “tourist” as much as my tropical shirt.
When Ruby reached the table, she shot me a scorching, sultry stare. An hour ago, I’d wanted nothing more than to be done with this job, but that heated look changed my mind. Let the case drag on. Let the diamonds go unfound for a few more days. I wanted time with her. To get to know her better, her body and her mind.
But the voices of reason and experience told me the longer this dragged out, the greater the risk of disaster—in more than just the job. Only, I wasn’t thinking with reason right now. I wasn’t thinking at all, only feeling how much I longed for this woman.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” I said, my voice dry and husky.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said with a wink.
Then she parked herself on my lap and threw her arms around me.
Whoa. That was a surprise. She’d never struck me as a sit-in-my-lap kind of woman.
“Good to see you too,” I said with a chuckle.
She clasped my face in her hands and purred. “I missed you this morning.” Her voice became a feathery whisper in my ear. “I can’t wait to have you again.”
Oh, Lord.
The woman did not play fair.
My dick shot straight up, and I was grateful she was on my lap, covering my hard-on. Even more grateful that she claimed my mouth in a heady kiss. Her taste was so damn sweet. I swallowed a groan of pleasure that could have been grounds to lock me up for indecency.
We had work to do.
But I’d have to be a fool to turn down a kiss like this.
My brain went hazy as I kissed her deeper. All thoughts of work, and tutors, and summer school, and responsibility surrendered in the caress of her lips. She kissed like a dream, and I could get lost in the spell of this sweet, feisty, fiery woman.
I did, for a minute or two, her hot kisses blurring out the world.
But a clock ticked loudly in the back of my mind. As much as it pained me, I broke off the kiss.
“One,” I said, holding up a finger, “that was epic. Two, I want more. Three, I’ve been thinking about you all morning.”
“I’ve been thinking of you too.” She ran her fingers along the front of my shirt and smiled, a grin that spread over her face and up to her eyes. She was happy. Wildly happy, and it was infectious.
“You’re festive today.”
She shrugged coyly, brushing a finger along my jaw. “I guess good sex has that effect,” she said, pursing her lips playfully.
“Just good sex?” I asked, matching her playful tone.
“Great sex,” she corrected, then nibbled on the corner of her lips.
If we were playing a game, she’d won. I let out a shuddering breath. “Agreed. But I work better when I can think of things other than fucking you.”
I lifted her off my lap and set her on her feet. Then I stood—carefully—tucked the guidebook in my pocket, and we left the busy café, turning to a side street, away from the crowds. We ducked down a quiet block along the beach, leaving the bustle even farther behind.
“Ready to place the order?” I asked.
All-business, no-flirt now, Ruby took her phone from her bag, blocked her number, and made the phone call we’d planned early this morning.
We needed to get inside Willow’s gallery to look around. Nighttime, while the gallery was closed and empty, would have been preferable, but there was too much security in the evenings in this section of town, with its stores, restaurants, and high-end hotels nearby. So, we’d have to find a way into Willow’s office during the day.
As Ruby made the call, I crossed my fingers, hoping all the pieces fell into place. Then I’d give her the jar of honey I’d snagged from room service just for her this morning. Fine, technically I’d lifted it. But really, that was what room service condiments were for—snagging for later. It was a little gift, but I still hoped she’d like the gesture, hoped it said I knew her. I hoped, too, that I could spend more time with her beyond this island tryst.
For now, I watched her order our distraction from a local place we’d found called Clementine’s Catering.
“This is Lynx O’Malley’s personal assistant,” Ruby said in a thoroughly professional voice that was, admittedly, sexy as sin. “I’m calling to confirm the lunch we ordered will be delivered to Willow’s Island Gallery.” She pushed her sunglasses up on the bridge of her nose. “In twenty minutes? Yes, that will be fine.”
Damned nice of Willow’s favorite artist to order in lunch, especially while he was unreachable at a meditation retreat.
The lunch decoy idea had been Ruby’s during our strategy session that morning. Her resourcefulness turned me on. She liked that I was rugged , her words, and I liked that she was clever. We were becoming a damn good team.
Scary thought.
But a sexy one too. And I needed to focus on the immediate tasks, not the many reasons I was attracted to Ruby Ashley.
With the order confirmed, we left the alley and returned to a main street, headed toward the church I’d scoped out earlier. We walked past a sandwich shop boasting Caribbean-themed panini served on the patio under a red-checked awning.
I stopped there, since we were getting close to our destination. “Let’s review,” I said. “You’re my lookout from the church. If you see or hear anything, or if anyone outside the gallery or inside starts to move, text me.”
“I’m so ready.” With a purr, she slipped her hands around my back, sliding them down to my butt, patting me down. In the same husky tone, she murmured, “Just making sure you have your phone with you.”
Who didn’t?
“I’m always prepared,” I said, then gently removed her hands from my ass. Sure, I couldn’t wait to touch her again, but I also couldn’t get distracted before a critical mission. “Let’s save all that for later. I promise as soon as we finish today, I will deliver a well-deserved trio of your favorite things.” Then I tipped my head to the sandwich shop. “And I’ll take you there for lunch if you want. I think the look in your eyes says you’re lusting after a panini.”
“No. Just you,” she said, all flirty and dirty.
I resisted the bait this time. “You’ll need these,” I said, reaching for my high-tech shades. She watched intently as I took the binoculars from my pocket.
I flicked them open and set them on her face and then explained how they worked, where she should station herself in the church, and my expected timeframe. “You’ll be safe there. No one will know you’re involved.”
“Don’t you get yourself caught,” she warned.
I saluted her. “I’m like a cat. My job is to be invisible.”
Twenty minutes later, we were in place. Ruby watched the gallery through the church window while I ambled along the street, checking out souvenirs of seashells at a shop kitty-corner to the gallery. As I pretended to consider a conch shell keychain, a white Subaru with an orange logo on the door pulled up and parked—my cue to stroll casually toward the gallery.
A woman in chef whites emerged from the Subaru, yanked open the hatchback, and grabbed a tray full of gourmet food. I smiled in satisfaction as she headed to Willow’s Island Gallery.
A lunch ambush.
Who didn’t love free food? That should give me a few minutes of distraction while everyone converged on the goodies, especially since Lynx O’Malley had spared no expense when he’d surprised the gallery staff with lunch out of gratitude for their hard work.
As soon as the caterer was inside, I slipped into the alley and made a beeline for the gallery’s back entrance, picked the lock, and opened the door a crack to listen for anyone nearby.
Silence. And when I peered inside, there was no one in the narrow hall.
So far, so good. I let out my held breath along with a quick prayer. Let me find the diamonds.
While Willow and the staff appreciated lunch in the main gallery, I slid inside the door labeled “office” and left it ajar behind me. Then I stared, slack-jawed, at the walls, turning in a slow circle to make sure I didn’t miss a thing.
There was no art.
There were no frames.
The walls were entirely, indisputably bare.