CHAPTER 4

“MORE ORANGE JUICE, GRACE?” Frances refilled her guest’s glass even before the poor girl could answer the question, then went ahead and spooned out an additional serving of eggs. Apparently just in case Grace forgot that she was starving.

Kyle worked to hide his smile. From the moment he and Grace had walked through the door, Frances had assumed they were an item. He hadn’t bothered to disabuse her of the notion, and so his aunt was going all out to make sure that Grace was welcomed into the family.

Any other woman might sink under the table and pray for sweet oblivion. Not Grace. She was holding her own with Frances, and Kyle wondered again if she was as much of a con artist as she was a thief.

The thought reminded him of why they were there, and he finished the last of his own juice—Frances hadn’t bothered to refill his glass—and then put his napkin next to his plate.

Frances noticed the gesture. “Finished?” Her expression turned concerned. “You two aren’t leaving already, are you? You just got here.”

“Of course not,” Kyle said. “We came to chat. After Grace met Emily last night she realized that meant that my aunt was the Frances Dormand, and she was dying to meet you.”

“He’d originally told me your name was Frances McIntyre,” Grace said. “It wasn’t until I met Emily that I made the connection. You’re one of my favorite character actresses, and, well, I begged Kyle to introduce me.”

They’d come up with the story during the drive to the house. They didn’t really need an excuse, of course, but considering that he was only supposed to be helping Grace to change a flat tire, they’d decided that it made the most sense to have some sort of story in place.

He could tell from Frances’s expression that the plan was a good one. In a world where Emily tended to get all the attention, a little bit of fawning in Frances’s direction went a long way.

“McIntyre’s my married name,” Frances said. “God rest his soul, Daniel was an old-fashioned man, and he wanted me to take his name and retire after we married. He was the chairman of a huge conglomerate, and appearances were important to him. I did, of course.” She patted Grace’s hand. “Those were different days back then.”

Grace smiled. “I don’t see anything wrong with that. Not if you made the choice out of love.”

Once again, Frances beamed, and Kyle felt an absurd sense of pride. Ridiculous, since he wasn’t really there to show Grace off to his aunt.

Deliberately, he pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. “I promised Grace I’d show her the upstairs den. And then maybe take her on a tour of the house. Is that okay?”

“Of course. Of course.” Frances waved an arm in the general direction of the upstairs den. “All my old movie stills are hanging in that room.”

“I can’t wait to see them,” Grace said. The plan was to get Frances in that room and then while she regaled Grace with stories of the past, Kyle would slip out and put the necklace back into the safe in her bedroom.

“You two go on ahead,” Frances said. “My arthritis is acting up. I’ll just stay down here and have coffee.”

Kyle frowned. Frances hadn’t complained about her knee in years. “Are you okay?”

“Of course, of course. Just wear and tear.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced, but he couldn’t argue with good fortune. If Frances stayed downstairs, he and Grace wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking away to replace the necklace. All in all, the situation couldn’t have been better even if he’d planned it.

Grace caught his eye, and he half shrugged, then held out his hand to her. “Come on. I’ll give you the nickel tour.”

“I really would like to see the den,” Grace said, as soon as they were out of earshot of Frances. “Frances wasn’t ever as big as Emily, but she really is one of my favorites.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate knowing that,” Kyle said. Frances’s second-tier status had been at the heart of a long-standing family feud. Even her superior financial position after she’d married Daniel McIntyre hadn’t mended the fences. Frances’s biggest dream had been to win an Oscar, and Emily had never let her sister forget that she’d been the one to take them home. It was petty and stupid and, at this point, Kyle was pretty certain the feud was fueled more by habit than by any true ill will.

“Let’s offload the necklace first,” he said. “We can look at the den on our way back down.”

As they headed for Frances’s bedroom, he kept listening for footsteps, sure she’d change her mind and follow. But he heard nothing, and they ended up in her overly floral room all alone.

He shut the door behind him. “The safe’s behind the Monet.”

Grace squinted at the painting. “Is that real?”

“Far as I know.”

“Wow.”

He waited. She did nothing. “Grace. The painting.”

“What?”

“The safe. Aren’t you going to open it?”

She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“The necklace. Why we’re here. Returning it, remember?”

“Well, yeah. I thought you were returning it.”

He scowled. He had no idea what the combination was to Frances’s safe. “Can’t you just open it?”

She crossed her arms and tilted her head. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I don’t have supersonic hearing and I didn’t bring my stuff.”

“You had it earlier.”

“Yeah. It’s in your car. I didn’t realize I was on call. We can go get it if you want, but Frances is going to wonder what’s going on.”

“Fine. Okay.” Actually, he didn’t remember Emily taking the necklace out of the safe anyway. “We just need to leave it someplace where she’ll notice it, but not realize that it just magically appeared.”

“Like in a vanity drawer?” Grace crossed to the antique vanity and pulled out one of the tiny drawers. Even from across the room, he could see that it was crammed full of cosmetics, hairbrushes, and various other girly things.

“Perfect.” He pulled the box out of his jacket and opened it, then passed the necklace to her. “Just put it under a scarf or something. Not too hidden. We want her to find it.”

“What if she doesn’t?” Grace asked. “What if she just calls the cops and says it’s been stolen?”

“I’ll hear about it,” Kyle said. “She’ll either tell me, or I’ll hear about it from my cop friends. I’ll come over to have a look and—what do you know?—I’ll accidentally run across it.”

“That works,” she said. She started to slide it into the drawer, but then she straightened, her perfectly white teeth worrying her lower lip.

“What?” His senses immediately went on alert. “Do you hear something?”

“No, no. It’s just…” she said with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry. I’m just being silly.”

Her cheeks bloomed pink, and he thought she looked completely adorable. He was also totally intrigued. “What?”

The color in her cheeks increased, and she spoke to her shoes when she answered. “It’s just that my grandfather wanted me to have this necklace. Not that he had any right,” she rushed to add. “But I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. And…” She gave a shrug. And when she looked up and met his eyes, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Try it on.”

“You’re sure?” She licked her lips and made a face. “It sounds like such a girly-girl thing to want to do.”

“It is.”

At that, she rolled her eyes.

He just laughed. “I’m serious,” he said. “If you want to play the princess, I’m all for it.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He moved up behind her and plucked the necklace from her fingers. She was facing the mirror, and their eyes met in the reflection. Without a word she reached back and pulled up her hair.

He draped the necklace into place, then fastened the clasp, his fingers brushing her neck as he maneuvered the complicated clasp. She shivered slightly, and he fought the urge to bend down and kiss her, ever so softly, right at her hairline. He was being sentimental and foolish, and those were instincts best left unexplored.

She let her hair fall free and then turned to face him. The necklace sparkled and shimmered in the overhead lighting. She’d changed out of her black turtleneck that morning, and now she wore one of his white button-downs. The top two buttons were unfastened, and the necklace filled the breach, fire and ice resting on a perfectly elegant Hepburnesque neck.

He wanted to run his finger over the fine bones there. To lean in and kiss the tiny indentations and smooth shadows. He stifled the urge, though, and instead simply told her that she looked absolutely beautiful.

* * *

MEL COULDN’T HELP the wide smile that crossed her face as his words still hung in the air. You look absolutely beautiful. “Any girl looks great in this many diamonds,” she said.

“Maybe. But you look beyond great. You look on fire. And you definitely deserved to try them on.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes any longer. “Thanks. I really wasn’t fishing for compliments. I just…” She shrugged. She couldn’t explain it. And the truth was, she had a feeling he already understood. Heck, he seemed to be able to read her mind about everything else.

The truth was, the necklace seemed to call to her. She’d seen some amazing jewelry during her career, but this necklace took the cake. Warm and inviting, it had begged for her touch. And while she knew she couldn’t keep it, that she had to give it up, she wanted just one moment. Just one tiny chance to play the princess.

Now that she had it on, she understood all the fuss about ostentatious jewelry. It weighed a ton, yes, but at the same time it seemed to hold her up higher.

She reached up, touching the stones at her neck. “They’re so beautiful.”

“Yes,” he said from behind her. “You are.”

She turned around, taking her eyes from her reflection to look at this man. The diamonds must be affecting more than her reflection, she thought, because right then all she wanted was to feel the touch of his hands on her body, the press of his lips against hers. She knew she was lost in the fantasy, but she didn’t care. If she was playing the princess, then he was playing the prince, and she really and truly wanted to be swept away.

She took a step forward, her lips parted just slightly, her eyes never leaving his. His blue eyes darkened, like the sea at night, and he brushed her cheek, then traced his fingertip over the swell of her lower lip.

Her pulse increased, her whole body alive with anticipation. She wanted his touch, wanted his kiss, and she leaned in, ready to simply take what she hoped he would willingly give.

Their lips met, and his fingers twined through her hair. Her knees went weak, her legs unable to support her, and she was grateful for his other arm tight around her waist.

His mouth pressed hot against her, and he explored her thoroughly. Filling her and tormenting her. She wanted more but knew she couldn’t have it. Not then. Likely not ever.

His hand stroked her hair, then caressed her neck, her back, before sliding down to cup her rear. He pulled her closer, pressing her tight to him, until his thigh was right between her legs and she could feel the hard length of him against her. The pressure of his body next to hers drove her wild, but she concentrated only on the kiss. On the way he tasted. On his masculine scent that overwhelmed her senses.

Dear Lord, he was driving her crazy.

He shifted then, and she realized he was leading her to the bed. Her head told her to protest. The rest of her followed willingly and begged for his touch. He eased her down, then straddled her, his knees on either side of her hips as he started to unfasten the buttons of her shirt. One button, two…

She drew a shaky breath, her stomach quivering as his fingers grazed her skin. He bent over, pressed a kiss just below her bra, and Mel was certain that she was going to come right then.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, wanting more. Wanting—

Below them the doorbell chimed, the sound echoing through the house and jolting Mel back to reality. She sat up, fastening her shirt as Kyle backed away.

She drew in a breath but couldn’t meet his eyes. What the hell had they been thinking?

“Saved by the bell,” he said, a slight tease in his voice.

She licked her lips. “Let’s just get the necklace back in the vanity and get out of here before we—” She cut herself off. “Well, before we get sidetracked again.”

“Good idea.”

She stood up and readjusted her clothes, trying to ignore the lingering heat his touch had generated. She still wanted more, but she knew that was ridiculous. He didn’t even know her real name, and as soon as this was over, she was heading back to her house and never looking back. That was the way it had to be. There might be some serious attraction brewing here, but she wasn’t about to get involved with a guy who knew she’d been a thief. He’d never be able to respect her, and she didn’t want to have to spend every day wondering if he trusted her.

She blinked, realizing she was getting way, way ahead of herself. They’d had only one kiss. He didn’t even know her real name, he wasn’t asking her out and she certainly didn’t think he was making relationship plans.

Quit borrowing problems and get the hell out of there.

Right. Good plan.

She reached back and fumbled with the clasp. No luck. She tried again. Nothing. “It’s stuck.”

“Let me.”

She turned and held up her hair so he could see the clasp. His fingers grazed her skin and she swallowed a moan.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice low.

She bit her lower lip, not realizing she’d actually made a sound. “It’s okay. I…um…laughed. Ticklish.”

“Oh.” He struggled with the clasp some more, his fingers doing a number on the back of her neck. Damn the man. Didn’t he know the effect he had on her?

“Hold still.”

“You’re…still…tickling…me,” she said, figuring a half-truth wasn’t the same as a lie. His touch did tickle, but that wasn’t the reason for her goose bumps and shivers. Holding her breath, she tried to take her mind off his fingers. Didn’t work. All she could think about was turning around and losing herself in his arms again.

Bad plan. Very bad plan.

He’d cast a spell over her, some magic designed to fizzle away her common sense. She needed to get free, and so she jerked to the side, twisting away from him so that she could think clearly.

“Wait! It’s—”

Too late she realized that the clasp had finally opened. She lost her balance and tumbled sideways, pulling him down until he landed with a thud on top of her.

Her first thought was that she’d like to stay right there on the floor forever. Her second, that she needed to get the heck out of there before proximity to Kyle fried her brain even more.

But then he shifted his weight, and her heart picked up tempo again, all rational thought evaporating. One of his hands pressed against her ribs, the edge of his finger grazing her breast.

Dear Lord, she was going to melt.

His breathing was as ragged as her own, and she could see heat in his eyes. He leaned forward, his lips parted, and she shivered, wanting him again, right then, right there, despite common sense and reason.

He paused, his mouth only inches from hers, and she could see the tension in his jaw, practically feel how tightly wound he was. “Shit.” He ground out the curse, then rolled off her, using the vanity to pull himself up.

She stayed on the floor, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

He reached down and offered her his hand. “We need to get out of here,” he said.

She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. They slipped the necklace under one of Frances’s scarves, then closed the vanity drawer.

She followed him out of the room and down the stairs. They would say their goodbyes to Frances and then head outside. The brisk sea air would restore her senses, and by the time Kyle dropped her at the bus stop near Miss Emily’s house, she’d be her perfectly practical self again.

She told herself she couldn’t wait.

But that, of course, was a big fat lie.