CHAPTER 3

MEL DREW IN A BREATH and willed her body not to react to his touch. She knew he was simply trying to get a rise out of her, and she didn’t intend to give him the satisfaction.

Instead she was determined to match him measure for measure. She held out her hand and waited for him to take it. His fingers were firm and warm against hers, and when he gave a tiny squeeze she met his eyes.

Time to head out into the world. Or at least out into the rest of the house.

“I’m going to try to sneak us out. Just act casual. And if anyone sees us, let me do the talking.”

She nodded. That was fine with her, although she frantically hoped no one would see them. She wasn’t wearing a sign that said, Hey, I’m a Thief! But neither was she dressed for one of Emily’s social occasions, either.

He pulled open the door, then led her into the hallway of a house that rivaled any of those dumps Robin Leach showed off. From Emily’s bedroom on the third story, they headed down an impressive staircase with an ornately carved banister. Soft jazz and muted voices wafted up from the first floor. For just a moment, Mel imagined herself on a dance floor, twirling to the music, Kyle’s arms tight around her.

She shook her head, cursing her own stupid romanticism. He was putting up with her because she’d foisted herself on him. That was all. Nothing more. And as soon as the necklace was safe and sound in Frances’s house, she’d probably never see Kyle Radley again.

And that, she told herself, was a good thing.

When they reached the second level, he splayed his hand across her back and steered her to the far side of the stairway. “Stay to the back,” he whispered. “We’re going to try and cut over to the service stairs without anyone down there noticing.”

Fine by her. They took a few tentative steps in that direction, and just when Mel was certain they were home free, she heard footsteps on the stairs below. Kyle muttered a curse, and Mel knew that they’d been caught.

She clutched his hand tighter. He might not be her knight in shining armor, but at the moment he was the best she had.

Below them, Emily Radley glided across the second-floor landing. The Emily Radley. Former goddess of the silver screen and star of at least five of Mel’s absolute favorite classic movies. She’d known all along whose house she was in, of course. But until she was actually seeing Emily Radley in the flesh, the truth of her surroundings hadn’t fully hit home.

Emily looked up and did a little Queen’s wave. “Kyle, darling. There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Sorry, Grandma,” he said, leading them down the stairs toward Emily. “I had to help out a friend.”

“Sorry about my attire,” Mel said, desperate for the woman to know she didn’t always dress like this. “My, uh, car broke down near here, and I called Kyle on his cell phone and…” She trailed off, realizing she had no clue where to go from there.

“I’m so sorry about your car troubles, Me—my dear.” She took Mel’s hand and squeezed, the gesture both friendly and supportive. “And you look perfectly lovely. Black is a very ‘in’ color.”

Mel just nodded, unable to completely comprehend that a fashion maven had just given her jeans a thumbs-up.

Miss Emily focused on Kyle, still keeping Mel’s hand in hers. “Did you ring Turner?”

“I can handle it, Grandma.”

“Turner?” Mel couldn’t help her curiosity. Kyle glared at her, but she just shrugged.

“My chauffeur. He’s a mechanic, too, of course.”

“I think I’m capable of changing a flat tire,” Kyle said.

Miss Emily let go of Mel just long enough to pat Kyle’s cheek. “Of course you are, darling.” She turned back to Mel. “I thought I knew all of Kyle’s friends. You are…?”

“Very pleased to meet you,” Mel said. She wasn’t about to give her real name, and now she scrambled to think of a fake one before Miss Emily asked her point blank.

“Grandma, meet my friend Grace,” Kyle said, while Mel gaped at him. Grace? Where the heck did that come from? “Grace, my grandmother, Emily Radley.”

Emily cupped Mel’s hand in her own, then patted her knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Grace. Have you two known each other long?”

“Not really. You could say we stumbled across each other and just sort of hit it off.” She turned to Kyle, keeping her eyes wide and innocent. “Wouldn’t you say?”

“That about sums it up.” He gripped her arm, his fingers tightening just above her elbow. As he pulled her back, Miss Emily tugged her forward. She felt like a tug-of-war rope, and she yanked hard, tugging her arm free from Kyle, all the while aiming a stern glare in his direction.

He glared right back. “We really need to get going,” he said.

“Oh, darlings, that’s such a pity. Can’t you even stay for one drink? Surely Grace’s car will wait.”

“No, we—”

“That would be great,” Mel said, interrupting. “We’d love to have one drink.”

Kyle scowled, but Mel just shrugged. She did want to stay. She adored Emily Radley and under other circumstances she’d have given anything to be at one of her parties. Considering she’d never have the chance again, she might as well grab the opportunity and run with it.

“We really should get your tire changed,” Kyle said, speaking slowly and distinctly, as if she were chronically stupid.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “The car’s not going anywhere.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Besides, I don’t have anyplace in particular to be until morning.”

With that, of course, she knew she’d won that battle.

And then, while he seethed, she flashed him her most innocent smile, knowing full well that right then he probably wanted to kill her.

* * *

HE WANTED TO KILL HER.

What the hell was she doing? He was trying to escape and she was tossing them both right smack into the lion’s den.

The woman was obviously delusional. Didn’t she realize that there were at least a dozen women down there determined to meddle in his love life? They were going to think she was the flavor of the week, and that was something he really didn’t want to deal with.

Frowning, he followed Emily and Grace-the-mystery-woman down the stairs, and Kyle watched her move in step with his grandmother. She was graceful, athletic, with a slim waist and a firm rear. One arm was linked through Miss Emily’s as she carefully helped the older woman down the stairs.

Kyle rolled his eyes. Their guest might be a thief, but Miss Emily was a con artist. She no more needed help maneuvering those stairs than an Olympic gymnast needed help walking a balance beam.

“Now, Grace,” said Emily, as the women took another step down, “have we met?”

Grace looked back over her shoulder at him, a tentative smile on her mouth. “No. I haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Funny,” Emily said. “You just look so familiar to me.” She patted Grace’s arm. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve met now.”

The women continued to chatter on—Kyle was frankly amazed that the girl knew so much about his grandmother—until they reached the ballroom. Emily caught the eye of the bandleader and lifted one finger. On cue, the orchestra began to play Kiss Me Quick, Melissa, and Grace clapped her hands, almost bouncing with the music.

“Oh, my gosh! This is my favorite song. My grandfather and I used to dance to it when I was a little girl.” She turned to Emily with such excitement in her eyes that Kyle couldn’t help but smile. “And you were fabulous as Melissa. Stolen Kisses is one of my all-time favorite movies.”

“It’s one of my favorites, too,” Emily said. “I taught Kyle how to dance to this tune. Remember, dear?”

He grinned. “Oh, yes. I remember it well.” Actually, those dance lessons were one of his fondest memories. Though, frankly, all of the summers he’d spent with his grandmother had been special. A cherished respite from traipsing all over the globe with his diplomat parents.

As the women beamed, he held out a hand for his grandmother. “For old-time’s sake,” he said.

But she didn’t take his hand. Instead, she pressed Grace’s hand into his and then gave her a tiny push into his arms. “Not old times,” she said. “New memories. Show Grace what a wonderful dancer you are.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but the feel of the woman in his arms stayed his tongue. He did want to dance with her; at the moment, there was nothing else he’d rather do. And so he guided her to the floor, counting out time with the music as they twirled under the twinkling lights of the crystal chandelier.

He closed his eyes, letting the melody carry them. Simply dancing.

“Where’d you get Grace?” she finally asked.

“To Catch A Thief,” he said simply.

“Oh.” A pause, then. “That’s one of my favorite movies.”

“Mine, too,” he admitted.

They danced a few minutes more in silence.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her soft voice tickling his ear.

“For what?”

“For letting us come down here. For dancing.” She shrugged in his arms. “I mean, to be here. To meet your grandmother. I know you wanted to go, but—”

“Hush,” he said, unable to help his smile. One moment she was tough as nails, the next she was a starstruck fan. Damn, but she amused the hell out of him. “I’m not mad anymore. Just stay quiet, listen to the music, and maybe I’ll forget I ever was.”

She nodded, stiff at first, but then she relaxed, her body molding to his, her head resting on his shoulder. And as they glided over the dance floor Kyle let himself forget that he didn’t even know this woman, this thief. That his grandmother had ripped off his great-aunt. And that his business was about to crash and burn.

No, right then all he wanted was to hold her, to feel her soft curves move against him and hear her little sighs of pleasure. She was vibrant and alive, and Kyle felt as if he’d stolen a little piece of heaven.

And for as long as the song continued, he wasn’t about to give it back.

* * *

“YES, YES,” Emily said, whispering as she spoke into the phone. She was making the three-way call in the alcove just off the ballroom. She peered out toward the couple. “They’re here right now.”

“And you think the plan is working?” Frances asked. “Already?”

“They’re dancing,” Emily said, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. “And they look quite cozy.”

“Of course it’s working,” Gregory said, his voice firm on the line. “I never doubted Emily for a second.”

“I almost called her Melissa,” Emily confessed.

“For Pete’s sake, Em,” Frances blurted. “Don’t screw this up for us.”

Emily bit back her retort. For the sake of the kids she could be civil to her sister. “I’ll be careful,” she promised. “And you should expect them later on.”

“In the middle of the night? Surely not. Kyle has better manners than to wake me.”

“Wake you?” That was Gregory, sounding more than a little miffed. “My Melissa can get into your house without even breaking a sweat.”

“We’re sure she can,” Emily said, playing peace-maker. “But since Frances will be retiring soon, it doesn’t matter. Frances, dear, check your jewelry box the minute you get up and let us know if they’ve returned the necklace.”

“Roger,” Frances said, and Emily pictured her saluting.

“Anything else to report?” Gregory asked.

Emily considered telling him about Melissa’s revelation about the song. She could even picture him, all dapper and refined, letting a little girl stand on his polished shoes so he could teach her to dance. But in the end, she kept the image to herself, tucked away in her heart.

“That’s it,” she said instead. “Here’s to success.”

They repeated the rallying cry and then clicked off.

And Emily went back into the ballroom to attend to her guests.

* * *

“NOW HOW DID YOU TWO MEET?”

“It’s so nice to know that Kyle has a young lady friend.”

“And what do you do, dear?”

Mel’s glance bobbed from woman to woman as their comments swirled around her, becoming little more than a static-filled buzz in her ear. She’d been in heaven in his arms, ecstatic when she’d become a guest at a real Emily Radley party.

Now, though, she saw the downside. The reason why Kyle had wanted to skip the party and head straight out the backdoor.

These women had an agenda, and as far as she could tell, she was now on the menu as a possible dish for Kyle.

He’d known, of course, that the women were going to circle and attack. And that’s why he’d abandoned her after their dance. Payback.

She smiled politely at the women, grateful none had yet noticed that she was entirely avoiding their questions.

She raised her gaze over the sea of gray-and blue-haired heads and caught his eye, hoping her expression conveyed that he needed to get his rear back over there. Right that second.

He held up a glass of champagne as though to ask, “Want some?” She sighed, then nodded. Champagne. Wine. Straight Scotch. Anything to help get through this little ordeal.

The truth was, under normal circumstances, she might actually be enjoying this. After being raised by Gram and Gramps, she got along famously with the senior citizen set. But these were not normal circumstances.

“Are you and Kyle dating, dear?”

She started to concoct an answer, but fortunately the man himself eased up beside her and handed her a drink. Then he took her free hand and twined his fingers through hers. It was a casual gesture, but right then it seemed anything but. Not when his fingers were pressed against hers, firm but gentle. And not when he was looking down at her with that crooked smile and those dreamy eyes.

“Now, Abby,” he said, sliding smoothly into the conversation. “You know I’m not dating anyone in particular right now.”

Mel found herself almost sagging with relief from that tidbit of information. Ridiculous.

The bespectacled woman just smiled and tapped the tip of her cane on the parquet floor in front of him. “I can hope.”

“Ladies,” he said, hooking his arm through hers. “I’m afraid Grace and I really do need to get going.”

Finally!“It was nice meeting all of you.”

They said a few more goodbyes as they made their way to the front hall. Emily met them there and gave them each a quick kiss. “It was lovely to meet you, Grace. Now that we’ve met, please don’t be a stranger.”

“Thank you,” Mel said. Emily Radley told her not to be a stranger. Oh, Gramps was not going to believe this.

Finally they were out the door. A valet in a white coat with red epaulets trotted over to take a ticket from Kyle, then he jogged off into the dark.

“A valet?”

“My grandmother likes to go all out when she throws a party.”

“I guess so.” She licked her lips. “So, uh, thank you.”

“For what this time?”

“For getting us out of there.”

“Notice how I’m not saying ‘I told you so’?”

She scowled. “You’re lucky I’m not chewing you out. You threw me to the wolves, you know.”

“Hell, yes.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Sorry,” he said, sounding anything but. “I guess I just assumed you could think on your feet.”

At that, she just glared.

“Right,” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re a thief, not a con artist. Got it.”

She opened her mouth to retort, then thought better of it, focusing instead on her fingernails. Not surprisingly, she was unable to find a nail with anything left to nibble. She shoved her hands in her pockets.

When the car arrived, she wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved. It was your basic So Cal transportation, a Jeep Grand Cherokee. A fabulous vehicle—certainly out of her league—but considering who his grandmother was, Mel had been expecting something more ostentatious. A Ferrari, perhaps. Or a bright-red HumVee.

“The limo’s in the shop,” he said.

Her cheeks warmed, and she kept quiet, the fact that he once again had read her so well more than a little disconcerting.

She climbed in, buckled up and didn’t say another word as he maneuvered the broad curves of the Pacific Coast Highway. Once or twice she sneaked a glance in his direction and decided that her first impression didn’t do him justice. Kyle Radley was more than just gorgeous. He was like ambrosia for the eyes. Absolutely perfect to look at, and, she had to admit, the man was perfectly nice as well. That, of course, scored him major bonus points. Especially since she knew damn well that if he really wanted to get rid of her he could.

She’d said she was sticking to him like glue, but it was one o’clock in the morning, the highway was deserted, and he had a good seventy pounds on her. If he pulled over and dumped her at the side of the road, there was no way she’d win that battle.

The thought gave her pause and she sneaked another sideways glance. As far as she could tell, he wasn’t about to toss her overboard.

Good. She told herself she was simply interested in seeing that the necklace made it back to its rightful owner. She feared, however, that she was telling herself lies.

They turned off the highway and headed into a small neighborhood just behind BJ’s Pizza in Laguna Beach. A couple more turns and he pulled in front of a charming bungalow with a perfectly manicured front lawn. About a million times smaller than Emily’s place. But what it lacked in size, it made up for in warmth.

“Home sweet home,” he said.

“I love it.” She meant it, and when she stepped inside, she loved it even more. The house was bigger than it looked, and seemed to go on forever. The floors were hardwood, the walls sparkling white. The effect would have been austere were it not for the warm furnishings and paintings. Overall, the place was homey. Mel liked it immediately.

“Come on,” he said, and she followed him toward the kitchen. “You hungry?”

She realized then that she was. “Starved.”

He gestured toward the table. “Take a load off.” Then he opened the refrigerator, made a disgusted noise, and popped his head back out. “So, uh, how do you feel about cereal?”

She fought a smile. “Has the milk expired?”

“Three days to go. We’re safe. I’ve got Cap’n Crunch, Cheerios, or All Bran.”

“Any one of those is great.”

“Good.” He sounded relieved. He plunked the three boxes onto the table, then got them bowls, spoons and the milk. She poured herself a bowl of Cap’n Crunch and dug in.

“Considering how much I just slaved to feed you, don’t you think you owe me the rest of the story?”

“No.”

“If there’s someone out there stealing from my grandmother, I think I have a right to know.”

He probably had a point, and she took another bite of cereal while she considered what to do. Then she told him the story. Or, at least, she told him the highlights. Frankly, her honesty surprised her. But why not tell him? He already knew the basics, and it wasn’t as if there was anything between them. Even if they were to have a wild, torrid affair, it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. He already knew too much.

“So, your grandfather stole the necklace from Emily and gave it to you?”

She shrugged. “Retirement fund.” She made a face. “He’s supposed to be retired, too. I can’t believe he pulled a stunt like this just for me.”

He took her hand then, his eyes warm. “Are you that hard up for cash?”

She concentrated on the tabletop, ignoring the way he was drawing lazy circles on her palm. Heat formed under his touch, and she fought the urge to rip her hand away, both terrified and fascinated by the reaction he caused in her body.

“Grace?”

Mel stared at her palm. Her toes were tingling. His touch had sent a ribbon of heat through her body that literally warmed her to her toes. She was in such big trouble.

She tugged her hand free. “I’m doing fine.” She blurted out the statement. “I just need to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.”

“That’s a hard one,” he said.

She looked up, found him smiling at her, and smiled back. “Yeah,” she said, picking up her spoon and attacking her cereal. “It is. I’m working on it. So far, all I know for certain is that I’ve retired from a life of crime. So the job has to be legit.”

His mouth curved into a smile. “Probably a good primary criterion.”

“In my family it’s not one of those things you can take for granted.”

He laughed, and she felt a little stab of pride.

“Yeah. I could see that,” he said.

She aimed a smile at him and they sat in comfortable silence. After a while, he got up and put his bowl in the dishwasher. “Listen,” he said, “we should probably get some sleep. Frances is usually up and ready for guests by about ten. You can have my bedroom. I’ll take the couch.”

She felt more disappointed than she cared to admit that he wasn’t even going to try something. She was being foolish and she knew it, but, dammit, she was attracted to this man. And she knew he was attracted to her, too. And she really hated that he, apparently, had willpower. Because it was the middle of the night and she was tired, giddy and completely turned on. If she weren’t so afraid of making a complete fool out of herself, she’d be making a pass at him right now.

Then again, maybe all of that was for the best. This was a one-night stint, and she really didn’t need to wake up in the morning under a pile of morning-after regrets.

“I’m not going to kick you out of your bed,” she finally said. “I’ll stay on the couch. Besides, I really don’t plan on sleeping. I’ll just sit there and read.”

“Afraid I’ll skip out while you’re snoring?”

“I don’t snore,” she said, once again irritated that he’d read her mind. “But otherwise, yeah. Exactly.”

He nodded. “Fair enough. I’m going to sleep, so I’ll take the bed. And you should sleep, too.” He held up two fingers. “I promise I won’t leave without you.”

She wanted to trust him, really she did. But old habits and ingrained self-preservation instincts simply wouldn’t let her. So instead of sleeping, she sat on the couch, flipping through magazines and trying to concentrate on the articles and not on the fantasies of Kyle Radley that filtered through her head.

* * *

KYLE WOKE UP ALONE and immediately wondered why he’d been so stupid as to go to bed that way. He’d spent the night lost in an erotic dream involving Grace’s trim thighs and soft breasts, and he was absolutely certain that, had he simply made one move in her direction, he could have had the real thing instead of a dream.

No. That would have been a very bad idea. He’d called upon his willpower last night, and it had come through for him. He wasn’t about to start second-guessing his instincts now. The woman might turn him on completely, but he knew trouble when he saw it. Any woman was trouble. A woman he’d caught breaking into Emily’s bedroom was big-time trouble.

He’d keep his pants zipped and his head on straight and everything would be just fine.

The clock next to his bed flashed 6:10, and he groaned, his head pounding as he sat up in bed. He’d only been asleep for four hours, but he knew he was up for the duration. Trying for quiet, he headed into the kitchen to start some coffee.

As soon as the machine began brewing, he filled two mugs and headed into the living room. She’d said she was going to stay awake, and in that case, she was going to need coffee even worse than he did.

When he reached the couch, though, he couldn’t help but smile. She was curled up on the sofa, half-buried under a maroon afghan he’d picked up in Tijuana one summer, hugging a throw pillow to her chest.

She looked completely at peace and absolutely beautiful, and he had to stifle the urge not to reach out and touch her, just to see if she was real.

He knew Frances wouldn’t be up yet, so he might as well let her sleep. Quietly he made his way back to the kitchen, then got his briefcase off the small pine table he kept near the back door. He slid the file folders onto the kitchen table, and sat down to review the files and crunch the numbers.

He started with the balance sheets and immediately wished he hadn’t. The business was okay for now, but unless they got some new clients soon, the company’s meager profit would disappear. A typical scenario for a start-up business, he knew, but in this case, there were more than just market factors at work. As soon as Driskell ran off his mouth about the break-in, Kyle was screwed.

Driskell was being reasonable so far, yes, but who knew how long that would last?

He finished off his coffee, the caffeine already working its magic. He stood and grabbed a third cup, and on the way back, he fished yesterday’s mail out of the side pocket of his briefcase.

A familiar logo caught his eye, and he plucked that envelope out of the pile. Modern Fidelity Life and Casualty. Driskell’s insurance carrier. Shit.

Kyle had no idea why simply holding the envelope brought such a sense of dread, but it did. He ripped the thing open and extracted the letter, his fingers clenching tighter and tighter as he read.

Bastards. Those sleazy insurance bastards were trying to nail his company with Driskell’s loss.

According to the letter, written by some smarmy company type with esquire after his name, Modern Fidelity was going to file a lawsuit seeking indemnification from Integrated, Kyle’s company, on August 12. His eyes automatically drifted to the calendar. That gave him eight lousy days to figure out some way to save his company. Because once the lawsuit was filed, there was no turning back. The press would grab the story and Integrated and Kyle and his partner, Brent, would all be labeled incompetent.

The whole situation was a nightmare, and he balled the letter and tossed it across the room, then sat and stared at it until the businessman in him forced him to go recover it so he’d have it for the file.

He shoved it back into his briefcase and then headed into the living room. He just wanted to see her. Just one glance to erase the bad taste of insurance and liability.

She was still sleeping, though she’d shifted a little, and now the pillow was on the floor. He watched her, then realized he was smiling. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman in his house. And this woman both enticed and intrigued him.

If he was a smart man, he probably would go on to Frances’s house alone. Hell, if he left now, he could probably be back before Grace woke up. But he couldn’t make a move in that direction. Like it or not, he’d gotten mixed up with this girl. She’d said she was his partner, and he had to admit he liked the sound of that. Not that he intended to admit it to her, of course.

She stirred, then peeled one eye open. After a few seconds the other eye followed, then her brow furrowed as she took in her surroundings. He could practically see her thoughts as reality returned and she remembered why she was there.

Slowly she sat up, the afghan tucked around her, even though she was fully dressed beneath it. “How long have you been up?”

“About an hour,” he said.

“I fell asleep.”

“I noticed.”

“And you’re still here. You didn’t leave me.”

He shrugged, kept his voice gruff. “Yeah, well, I said I wouldn’t. So come on, already. Let’s get this over with.”

But that’s when she smiled. And damned if his heart didn’t melt just a little bit more.