Chapter 2 #2
She said, “You must be the famous—or should I say notorious—Dane Blaise.” She reached out a hand and he took it, giving her delicate hand a shake though he felt like he was supposed to kiss it.
“This is my wife, Laura,” Gable said.
“This is my partner—”
She turned to Shana and said, “Yes, the lovely Shana George—equally famous.” She did the obligatory handshake.
Dane recognized the icy smile Shana wore and silently willed his girl to keep herself in check.
Not that he cared about the assignment, but he knew Shana would somehow blame him if they lost the gig.
“I have tomorrow night’s guest list for you, and the guest lists from the last three parties, which were all robbed. We’re all concerned about this jewel thief. What is the likelihood that he might turn violent?”
“Unlikely,” Shana said.
“What makes you think the thief is a man?” Dane said.
Mrs. Gable raised her brow and Mr. Gable laughed. “Touché.”
They took a tour of the perimeter. Gable pointed out the balcony and French doors to their bedroom, where the safe was kept, inside, in a closet. Very predictable.
“You should consider moving the safe to your kitchen—no one ever looks there,” Dane said.
“Hmm… Yes, I see your point. I’ll consider it,” Mr. Gable said. It was obvious he’d do no such thing. Dane got the idea the man enjoyed being a cliché.
Shana had her mobile phone out in camera mode and was busy taking pictures.
“Where are the motion sensor tripping mechanisms?” she asked.
“I have no idea—it’s all in the plans.” Gable watched Shana, his eyes following her.
“Would you like a cold drink, Mr. Blaise—to take the edge off the heat?”
He did want one—desperately. “No thank you. I think we’re about finished here. We have some background work to do.”
Shana slipped her phone back into her purse and joined him.
She was a good girl. She knew a hint when she heard one.
Plus she looked hotter than he did—sweatier too.
And her hair. Others might have called it unruly, but Dane thought it looked sexy as hell—like she’d just got out of bed after making wild love.
The perspiration-touched tendrils framing her face gave her an irresistible—
“Ms. George—may I call you Shana? Please have a cold drink before you go—”
“We can’t stay,” Dane said and stepped to her side. He resisted throwing an arm around her because then he’d have dragged her out of there and—
“What will you do next?” Mrs. Gable asked.
“We’ll study the security plans and—” Shana began.
“For one thing, we’ll need to go shopping. The attire for your soirée is formal, I take it?” Dane said, his expression back to his polite, meaningless smile.
“Yes—oh most definitely. May I suggest a dress shop—” Mrs. Gable said.
“Please be sure to include the cost in your expenses,” Mr. Gable interrupted. His smile for Shana looked far from meaningless. Dane decided they ought to get out of there before Mr. Gable suggested she buy jewelry for herself too—at his expense—like a gift from a potential lover.
Mrs. Gable led them back out to the checkerboard foyer where she took a manila envelope from a table and handed it to Dane.
He took it, but paid a lot of attention to the surroundings, noting the dramatic stairs.
No way their thief would take those to the second floor—climbing that staircase would be like being on stage.
The butler showed them the door, handed over a thick folder of documents and a tube of blueprints, and they left. Dane felt like he got a third degree burn when he pulled on the Jeep’s door handle to get inside.
“Where’s the damn butler when you need someone to open your door?” he said. “Frank is no dummy.”
“He’s their personal assistant—not their butler.”
“Damn fine hair-splitting.”
“This car is like a furnace,” Shana said. She sounded annoyed. He figured it was about the envelope. She’d probably feel a lot better if she were holding it.
“It’s not a car—it’s a Jeep.”
She punched his arm.
“I like seeing you sweat.”
“I can’t go dress shopping until I take a shower.”
“No time. We’re on a tight schedule. I’m going to need to come back here in the morning and install cameras.”
“They already have security cameras—I saw them.”
“Those are on the outside. I’m talking about inside.”
“Fine. Take me to the dress shop.” She pulled a towel from the glove compartment and dabbed at the perspiration on her face and neck. He liked her better with the glisten showing.
As they pulled up along the curb at the store, Shana’s phone rang.
“It’s probably Mr. Gable telling you don’t forget to buy some jewels—at his expense, of course.”
Shana scowled at him and looked at the phone before answering it.
“It’s my brother.” She pressed it on and then pressed it to her ear.
Dane got out of the Jeep partly to give Shana privacy for her call, but mostly because it was so stiflingly hot in there.
He was human. He went to the dress shop door—the boutique where they’d shopped before—and saw the store’s owner, Emma, inside.
He wanted to go inside the air-conditioned shop, but he waited for Shana. He was a sap.
As she got out of the car Shana tossed the phone back into her bag and frowned at him. But this wasn’t her usual frown of general disapproval or annoyance, it was worry.
“What did your brother want?”
“Mum wants to come for a visit—here—at the end of the summer.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Yes. But… I’m surprised is all. They already booked the flight without even telling me and now I’ll have to make sure we’re not on a case and… I’ll have to find somewhere for them to stay.”
And there was the problem. She didn’t want her family staying with him. Hell, she didn’t want to stay with him half the time. But at least it meant Shana was staying on the island until September.
“I don’t see any problem.”
“I’m not sure where they got the money for the flight—he gave me some story about winning a sweepstakes. Sounded fishy.”
It was a fishy story. Dane knew this because he was the fish in charge of the sweepstakes and her mother had been the only entrant.
“Don’t look a gift horse—”
“I’ll have to find a place of my own in the fall—something bigger than Mrs. Jones’s studio where I stayed last year.”
“Don’t go starting with that again. Your mother and brothers can all stay at the shack. Plenty of room. You and I will share my room and—”
“Now don’t you go starting that again,” she said.
“Let’s not have this discussion in the street.”
She pushed past him, and went inside. The whoosh of cold air was a relief from the heat, but not as much a relief as ending that line of discussion. Dane had until September to convince her to stay with him. He had until September to convince himself he could handle her staying with him.
Emma assaulted them, sweeping Shana into a French hug and kiss—distant and for show—and they disappeared into the recesses of the shop.
Dane wandered in the direction of the dressing room to have a seat and watch his favorite show—Shana parading for him in sexy dresses—when he bumped into a petite, dark-haired woman.
He was not a klutz and not unaware of his surroundings, which meant that the woman had purposely taken him by surprise and run into him with a goal in mind. She looked up and he saw brown eyes swimming in mirth.
With a flirty French accent, she said, “I was wondering when I might run into you.”