After taking away the salad bowls, Mrs. Leland served salmon, twice-baked potatoes, and fresh bread. Kimberly listened as Max took the opportunity to talk stocks and bonds with Carlo—another impressive skill he’d apparently picked up somewhere along the way—and she bowed out of the conversation other than to add an occasional comment to help keep Carlo focused on her.

As the charade went on, she found herself wading through the mire of wanting Max more and more with each passing minute. Even when she worked to bait Carlo with her flirtations, she stayed painfully aware of Max’s presence, and couldn’t keep her thoughts from straying to past times—better times—shared with him.

“Kimberly?”

She jolted to attention. “Huh?” She looked up to see Max and Carlo both rising from their chairs.

“I said,” Max told her very calmly, “let’s retire to the living room for a while.” And he raised his eyebrows at her as if to say pay attention, and she thought, swell, great way to show him what a skilled P.I. I am.

But all her bad feelings were quelled when she took a seat on the big sofa in front of the massive stone fireplace and Max sat down next to her, close, sliding his arm warmly around her shoulder. Her heart fluttered. Along with a few other choice body parts, as well. This husband-and-wife thing definitely had its benefits, even if it was only make-believe.

Carlo settled in a roomy easy chair nearby and, over the next few minutes, started looking a little antsy, but Max acted as if he didn’t notice and proceeded to talk some more about his imaginary career in investments.

“Which reminds me,” he finally said, “I’ve got a business call to make—need to touch base with a colleague in Japan. Will you excuse me for a few minutes?”

And then he was gone, quick as that, up off the couch and out of the room. Disappointment ran rampant through Kimberly’s limbs.

And a business call? At ten o’clock on a Friday night? Well, Max had cleverly thrown in the Japan thing—she supposed it was daytime there right now. Daytime on Saturday, now that she thought about it, but maybe he was counting on Carlo not know that. Regardless, she knew this meant it was time to get down to some more of her business, time to start flirting with Carlo in private and letting him begin to think she might be interested in fooling around.

It took him about half a second to make the first move. He rose from his chair and joined her on the couch. Too close for her liking, but part of the job. And she’d done this kind of work on occasion before, so she knew how to handle it. But most guys, even bad guys, weren’t as outright lecherous as this one. And she’d never before done this sort of job when her mind and body were so desperately tied up in wanting another man.

“Hi,” he said. His eyes practically twinkled with the new seclusion they shared.

She made herself smile back at him, look a bit coquettish. “Hi.”

And then he reached out and fingered the thin shoulder strap of her dress. “You’re a beautiful woman, Kimberly.”

This guy really needs to work on his originality. But she forged ahead. “Why, Carlo, you’re going to make Max jealous with all these compliments.”

“They’re all true,” he said. “But Max doesn’t matter.”

Wow, he was quick. She put on her best innocent face. “Max doesn’t matter?”

“I just mean…he’s not here right now. It’s just me and you.”

She nodded, for lack of any better move.

Carlo withdrew his fingers from beneath the strap of her dress and once again slid them to the thin diamond necklace she wore. “I’m still quite taken by this, Kimberly.”

“Thank you, Carlo.”

“Is all your jewelry truly this exquisite?”

Okay, he was more than quick—he was a regular speed demon. But she took the opening. “As I said at dinner, this is really just a smallish piece. My collection upstairs consists of much more elaborate jewels.”

He nodded, looking utterly attentive. “So you keep them on the premises. Is that safe?”

Like earlier, she wanted to laugh. And she began to wonder for the first time just how stupid these victimized couples had been. But she could only guess that maybe they hadn’t come across as being as totally inviting as she and Max had, which was possibly making Carlo comfortable being this forward. Or perhaps the wives had truly been attracted to him. She saw straight through him for the slime he was, but if you didn’t…well, he was nice enough to look at and she could imagine him—the things he said and way he touched so freely—being intimidatingly persuasive. And some women were more impressionable than her.

“They’re in a safe in our bedroom so I hope they’re secure enough,” she said after a brief hesitation. “And if I kept them in some silly safe deposit box somewhere, it would be much harder to wear them, wouldn’t it?”

She giggled and the schmuck joined in her laughter, gently lowering a hand to her knee. Inside, she tensed at the touch, but didn’t let it show. “Say,” he began, “maybe while we’re waiting for Max to finish with his call, you could let me see some of your prized gems. Hearing you talk about them has intrigued me.”

Nope, too soon. She and Max hadn’t even begun to synchronize the theft yet, and anything could happen. Yes, Max had suggested Carlo ask to see the jewelry, but that had been bait for later. “Oh, we’ve got plenty of time for that, now that you’re staying,” she told him. And when she sensed him getting ready to lean closer, she rose to her feet. “How about some brandy?”

“All right, sure.”

Though as she hurried to the bar across the room, he stood up and followed her. Geez, he was easily the most aggressive man she’d ever met.

Having familiarized herself with the liquor cabinet, she pulled out a decanter half-filled with brandy, along with two snifters. She poured one and handed it to him before pouring another for herself. After recapping the decanter, she picked up her snifter and turned—to find Carlo standing, as usual, far too close for comfort.

“Let’s toast,” he said, lifting a hand to her arm. His thumb began to stroke her skin. “To diamonds. And to you. Two of the world’s natural beauties.”

* * *

Max leaned back in the executive leather chair in the study. Propping his feet on the desk, he glanced around. Built-in ebony bookcases, housing old volumes with rich leather spines he could smell, surrounded him. To his left, a huge picture window looked out on the front lawn. To his right, a framed map of the world hung on the wall. He studied the map stuck with pins that seemed to indicate destinations visited. But if you had all this why would you need to look any further?

Carlo’s words came back to him. And a wife like this to share it all with? You’ve got the life, pal. The thief had been right about that—a place like this, a wife like Kimberly …

But wait a minute.

The last thing Max needed was a wife like Kimberly. Sure, he didn’t like seeing Carlo all over her, but that didn’t mean he was ready to marry her. Or even engage in any relationship at all. There was one thing he didn’t have with Kimberly that happened to be a major relationship essential: trust.

He’d left her alone with Carlo strictly to give the guy the opportunity to start making his move, start trying to lure her away from Max while he wasn’t around to fawn over her. He kind of hated doing that, but he knew she could handle it. She’d been a quick study at the P.I. thing until lousing up the Carpenter case. And that wasn’t a skills problem—it was ethics.

Skills she had. Which was good, because she’d need them with this creep. And Frank wouldn’t have sent her if he’d had any doubts she could do it. And even he had to admit she’d become a good actress. Maybe a little too good. She’d been fine with undercover gigs before, but he’d never cast her as anything like this—a sexy, ready kind of woman. And she was pulling it off without a hitch. It irritated him to know Carlo thought she really liked him.

Frankly, Carlo was worse than he’d expected. He kind of wanted to kill the jerk, thinking about how excited the guy had gotten watching him kiss her, hoping to steal her away at the same time. Oh well, at least they hadn’t wasted any time making sure Carlo viewed her in a sexual light. Not that Max liked him thinking of her that way. He didn’t.

And just why the hell was that again? His ego. Just his ego.

“Mr. Tate?”

Looking up to see Mrs. Leland in the office doorway, he welcomed the distraction—he was starting to obsess over this situation and he didn’t like it. “Yes, Mrs. Leland?”

“I’ve finished cleaning up dinner, so I’ll be going now.”

“All right. Thank you for letting me know.”

She smiled. “Everything was to your liking?”

“Everything was great.”

“And your case. It goes well?”

“So far, so good,” he told her. Then he lowered his feet to the floor and stood up. “I’ll walk you out.”

He’d used the older woman for such events before and had come to like her. She whipped up a spectacular meal and he could see that, however timidly, she found it exciting to do work for a private investigator.

“Would you like me to tell the young lady goodnight, and the other gentleman? I could thank her for giving me the weekend off while he’s standing there listening.”

Max smiled—he’d told Mrs. Leland to pretend she worked there full-time if it came up around Carlo when serving dinner. “That won’t be necessary,” he replied. “I mentioned it to him in passing already. But thanks for thinking of it.”

When they reached the door, he pulled out his wallet and pushed a fifty dollar bill into her hand. She raised her gaze to him, clearly astonished. “What’s this for? I’ll be sending my regular invoice to your office.”

He gave her a small grin. “A tip. For services well-rendered.” When her eyes lit up, he added, “Put this toward Joey’s college expenses.” With three kids, the oldest a freshman at Cal State, he suspected jobs like this one were important to her family.

“Well, thank you, Mr. Tate,” she said, still smiling.

He opened the massive front door to let her out. “Have a safe drive home, Mrs. Leland.”

He stood just beyond the threshold, watching as she got in her car and drove away. Then he looked up at the sky—or more precisely, the stars. You could see them here in the hills in much more abundance than from his place closer to the city. Too many lights in the city. Out here, it was easy to forget the city even existed. Warm night air surrounded him. Yep, a guy could get used to this.

Oh, he’d never have the bucks for a place this ornate. But a man didn’t need such extreme luxuries to be happy. Once he’d thought he did. Doing well in Vegas had started to make him a little greedy, hence his Porsche. But since he’d made the decision to get out of the field and just run the company, he’d done some practical thinking about what it took to be fulfilled.

There was no sin in owning some nice things, but he’d started figuring out that he was happiest just being a middle-of-the-road kind of guy. A beer and pretzels guy who drove a Porsche. A corner bar guy who wore Armani suits to work. He was achieving a happy medium. Finding the right balance of everything he needed to feel good when he got up in the morning and went to bed at night. And life was looking pretty fine at the moment. And a wife like this to share it all with? You’ve got the life, pal.

What the hell? Where had that thought come from?

But Max had no time to contemplate the answer. Because that was when Kimberly screamed.