She watched him, noting every step he took as they entered the Dimitru home, accessed his security room, and then ran the tests on the system. There was a panel of button thingies, almost like a computer, with a screen sitting on top. He wired the old security cameras into his system as well, which was only a matter of moving the wires around.
They hit a few snags when he worked on the locks.
And it was eleven o’clock when he swore under his breath and threw a wrench to the floor. A wrench. She almost laughed, but he looked so miserable. Then he was talking under his breath about extending the job.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
He ran a hand through his hair, pulling strands from the bun in back—again. He did that when he was frustrated, and when he leaned forward into the doorway, strands of his dark hair fell forward. “No,” he said, but then added, “Go into the artifact room, would you? When you get in there, open the door and come back out.”
Her heart raced.
He was asking her to go, open the door, and enter the room where she could snatch the very item she’d come for…just waiting to be plucked from its tapestry bed. She groaned.
“Don’t be so bitchy about it. I’m doing the bulk of the work here, you know,” he said, his eyes finding her before straying back to the computer in front of him.
“I wasn’t—” She stopped, insulted yet not at the same time, but the way she’d moaned had probably sounded like a complaint. And what was she supposed to do? Explain why she was groaning? “Okay,” she said. “Be right back.”
She walked down the hall, the long, dark stone hall toward the room with the big, dark, heavy door. There was one guard. “Hey,” she greeted him. “Do you always stand out here? Or is this extra duty because we’re here?”
The man eyed her suspiciously. What was it with her today? She didn’t really look like a criminal.
“Ma’am,” he said, “a guard comes by every half-hour whether you’re here or not. I’m here in case there’s anything you need.”
“I need to get in there.” She pointed to the door, her fingers itching to touch the armband. “Malcolm wants to check the response times. He thinks there’s a fault in the current system.”
With a nod, he opened the door and let her in.
She wondered if he would follow her, but he must trust his boss had hired professionals, trusted she would be in and out. She would. But first, she walked over to the armband and leaned over the display. Her breath clouded the gold, reminding her of how her dad would pick it up and tell her that her Bunic-pa had paid him to take her mother off his hands. Because she was such a troublemaker. And Marie better be careful, because if she caused any trouble, he might have to do the same.
And then he’d wink, grab her around the waist to flip her over, and tickle her until she was laughing hysterically. Her mom would come back and whack him with a kitchen towel. “Put her down,” she’d say, and he would, only to grab her mom instead.
And they would kiss.
Marie brushed the gold with a shaky finger and saw a red light blink at the bottom of the display. Another hurdle. Getting in wouldn’t be difficult. Not if she came back as a Hawk Elite employee.
The plan formed as she made her way back to the door, opened it, and exited.
No lights or bells and whistles went off.
When she got back, Malcolm’s fingers were flying across the keyboard of his laptop. She walked through the door and leaned against the wall to wait. Without a word, she set her phone on the table next to the door and came up behind him.
And he was muttering again, which charmed her. Made her hate what she had to do, made her hate the deception and her ability to be the lowest of the low—a thief.
A row of lights began blinking above his head and then shut off.
“Fuck yes!” Malcolm fist-pumped the air. Total dork.
A smile twitched at her lips as her heart broke a little. It was over. “Everything all set?”
“Finally. Yes.” Malcolm stood and stretched his back, lifting his arms over his head. The muscles in his shoulders and arms rippled beneath the shirt. She’d never considered herself the kind of girl who would drool over a guy. As a matter of fact, she prided herself on her belief that a man had to be worth more inside than what appeared nice on the outside. Equal rights. She didn’t want to be ogled, so she didn’t ogle.
Until Malcolm, anyway.
Jiminy Cricket, and he always wore those pants, which tapered and made his butt look…firm, amazing. Of course, he did hide it half the time under those flannels. He grabbed said flannel from the back of the chair and snaked his arm through the sleeve.
“My eyes are up here,” he said as he lifted his bag and set it on the chair.
Heat rose on her neck. “Sorry. Now I know what’s under all those clothes…sorta hard to concentrate.”
“Yeah, that’s why sleeping with someone you work with is always a bad idea.” He carefully placed his computer in the bag and picked up a neatly circled cord as well as a little black box, which she couldn’t identify. “If it’s any consolation, your perfume has been driving me crazy all morning.”
He slung the bag over one broad shoulder and exited the room without another word.
Shock had her planted to the floor. I’m distracting him? He’d been so focused all morning, while she’d mostly been twiddling her thumbs and feeling quite useless. “Hey, I’m not even wearing—”
He was down the hall and heading to Dimitru’s lair before she got her feet moving again.
Marie hurried behind him, restraining herself from calling out for him to wait up. His footsteps had slowed when he hit the intersecting corridor, and he held out a hand as she came up behind him. She reached for it, not really knowing why, though the entire house gave her the creeps. It was dark and gloomy, and now they had to go face Dimitru. Yuck.
He squeezed her hand and then led her down the side hall to the office with a guard standing outside. The guard stepped back and opened the door for them before returning to his stance.
Malcolm nodded and went through. “Everything is running as it should. There was a slight glitch in your motion sensor software, but once I removed the last of the software from the previous security company, the glitch disappeared. I’m getting all of the readings in my program. And if there’s anything that comes up, I—or one of my associates—will call you.”
Dimitru stood and came around the desk, nodding. “See you do.”
The pompous ass couldn’t express gratitude if his life depended on it, and the stillness in Malcolm at the response had Marie stepping forward and holding out her hand. “I guess we’ll be on our way, then.”
Dimitru held a moment, but not long enough to set off her internal alarms. Such a fine line, which seemed to have darkened because of her dislike for the guy.
“I hoped to provide a nice dinner for you after you were finished here. Perhaps a night on the town. Portland does have some wonderful nightlife.”
“Our flight home leaves this afternoon,” Malcolm answered for her.
Marie shrugged. “He’s right.” She stepped back. “I guess this is goodbye.”
“Perhaps next time,” Dimitru said, then took her hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand then let it go. Like the perfect gentleman. Only it left her feeling queasy.
She forced herself to walk out as if the devil wasn’t on her tail. Malcolm’s presence next to her helped, leaving her wondering how she was ever going to pull off the second half of this grift.
***
“You going to be okay?” Malcolm asked as he threw his bag into the back of the cab. “And the airline changed your ticket.”
“Yes. I’m fine. By nine o’clock this evening, I’ll be sitting on my Uncle Bert’s back porch, enjoying the sun setting over the Pacific Ocean.” She hesitated. “Please. Come with me. A couple days to unwind and let off some steam. I can show you my old haunts, and we could pretend we’re friends.”
“We are friends, Marie.” She stared at him, and he rolled his eyes, conceding her silent rebuke. “Fine, we’re very, very, very good bedroom friends. We respect each other in the work environment—”
Stifling a laugh, she reached in beyond him for his bag. “We became friends. We’re friends now. Stay. Let’s go on an adventure, Malcolm. The two of us, for a few days. You’ll like my uncle. I promise. He’ll share his Țuică, and you’ll both be drunk as skunks trying to play his mandolin.”
In a way, she was begging. She’d been alone her entire life, no other family. And a thief, living like a nomad, with her uncle since her parents’ deaths, so she probably hadn’t had too many friends, either. Like him.
But he’d chosen his solitude.
Marie hadn’t.
And she was right. They were friends. And friends protected each other. “Fine,” he said with a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Fine. I will take a few days off, if only to keep you out of trouble! Because you—you have plans for something, and I will figure out what it is.”
Her grin was reward enough, and the light in her eyes struck him with a hammer of humility. Don’t mess this up, dumbass. Don’t hurt her.
Hell, he’d already messed it up when he slept with her. But the problem was “messed up” didn’t seem the right term. More like “set his world straight.” Now he was going to take a vacation with her and visit her uncle, stay in her home…and do all this get-to-know-you shit, which was going to lead to feelings. She might be a thief, but she was still a woman. “Come on,” he grumbled.
She grinned, making the decision—possible mistake—easier to swallow.