In Plain Sight (Stolen Hearts) (5 page)

God, she had nerve showing up at the trade show and thumbing her nose at everyone by wearing that outrageous dress. He’d almost tripped over his own feet trying to get to her when he saw that old slimeball feel her up. His anger had been immediate and primal. Not at all the way he was used to feeling.

Which begged the question—why was he taking her problems so personally? She’d caused him nothing but trouble since he’d laid eyes on her.

Bridget yanked the bathroom door open and thrust out one hip as if modeling the clothes. “Is your sister a midget?”

Rafe groaned inwardly. Her beautiful breasts looked like they wanted to pop out of the tight vee-neck shirt. How was he supposed to think with her looking like that? At least the skirt he’d found covered most of her legs, except… Great. He could see through the light material just enough to glimpse the outline of her thighs. At least she’d chosen to go bare-foot instead of wearing her fuck-me shoes.

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’ll get one of my shirts.”

“I like this one. It reminds me of my student days.”

He grabbed a long-sleeved white dress shirt from his room and tossed it to her when he returned into the kitchen. “I’d appreciate it if you’d put that on.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Can’t take the heat, Pascotto?”

“Depends. Are you prepared to deal with the consequences?”

She pulled the shirt on and buttoned it up to her chin, then held her arms out and turned around. “Satisfied?”

Far from it. “It’s a start. Hungry?” He picked up the tray of food he’d prepared and walked past her into the living room.

She followed him, filched a piece of cheese and started pacing. He couldn’t help but admire the way she moved. Even with his shirt hanging down to her knees, he was acutely aware of the way her slender body moved with unconscious grace.

She stopped and sent him a sly sideways smile. She knew exactly the kind of effect she was having on him and loved it. Damn it. If he could get his libido under control, he might actually be able to learn something important. He owed Gage for pulling him out of Paris, and he wouldn’t mind helping him.

Up to now, he and Gage hadn’t exactly bonded, and now with Sophie pregnant feeling well, it wouldn’t hurt to try mending that particular fence. If anything, it would make Sophie happy. And although he didn’t particularly like his brother-in-law, he did respect him.

And, okay, he felt sorry for Bridget. It was possible she wasn’t guilty of anything but being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe.

“Why were you at the show?” He popped a grape into his mouth as he watched her halt her prowling and look at him over her shoulder. She had gorgeous hair. A shocking red with curls halfway down her back. He’d love to sink his fingers into it.

“I wanted Dejarnatt to remember that I know he stole Darcy’s designs. I’m not the only one who knows, either.”

“What makes you say that?” Rafe picked up another grape and rolled it between his finger and thumb.

If Gage could find another person to corroborate Darcy and Bridget’s story, maybe Darcy would have a chance to beat down his sentence. It seemed to Rafe that everyone was a little too quick to believe the O’Neills were guilty. When he’d tried to talk to Gage about what he thought, Gage had laughed at him, then got that pissed-off look on his face and told him he was better off thinking about his wardrobe.

Rafe didn’t know his brother-in-law well enough to decide if he really was that big of a jerk or if Rafe had hit a sore spot with the agent. He suspected the second.

“Most everyone in the trade would recognize Darcy’s older designs. But…”

“What?”

She shrugged an elegant shoulder. “He worked for Dejarnatt for almost two years. You don’t get to put your name on any of the designs you make for a big house like Dejarnatt.”

“What are you saying? No one knows what Darcy designed and what he didn’t? It all goes into the same pot?”

“They know. Darcy was…is brilliant. But there’s no proof. No paper trail. You have to give everything to the house, all your preliminary sketches, everything.”

“So it comes down to his word against Dejarnatt?”

She nodded.

“Why work for him to start with?”

She raised her hands, palms up. “Paris. Money. Lots of money. We were going to leave after our three-year contracts were done and start our own business. That wouldn’t have been possible years ago, but with the Internet, you can make a good living selling your own line of jewelry. Not millions like Dejarnatt, but enough for both of us to be happy.”

“No doubt, Dejarnatt realized what you planned to do.”

“We didn’t keep it a secret.”

She made her side of the story sound so believable—except he had firsthand knowledge of how cunning she could be.

“So, what’s the deal? He set your brother up for theft to…what? Stop both of you from starting a business? There are lots of jewelry designers. What’s one more to Dejarnatt?”

“We wouldn’t have just been designers with their own line of jewelry. Dejarnatt used Darcy’s designs almost exclusively for his collection. We would have been in direct competition with him.”

Rafe frowned. “With Darcy in jail here, why did you stay in Paris?”

He stared at her generous mouth as she smiled. Her lipstick was as red and alluring as the dress she’d worn to the trade show. “To torment Dejarnatt, of course.”

“And that’s why you came to the States. Not the best idea, Irish. Looks like it backfired on you.”

A frown marred her forehead. “I should try to find out if some gems were really stolen. Do you have a TV?” She looked around the room. “Computer? Phone?”

All of the above, and all tucked out of sight. He knew she was right. They should find out what was going on. But if she’d actually been accused of stealing the gems, he’d have to call Gage. As long as he remained ignorant of the situation, he had no obligations.

The question was, why put himself in that position to start with? He didn’t owe Bridget a thing. If anything,
she
owed
him
. But damned if he didn’t believe her story, despite the fact that she was a conniving opportunist. And he suspected Gage had felt the same way. Even with Darcy in jail, Gage hadn’t stopped poking around for new information. Rafe wished he could ask him, but Gage wouldn’t give him a straight answer if he did.

What did it hurt to hang on to her a few more hours? It’s not like he was committing a crime.

Both Rafe and Bridget jumped when someone knocked on the door. When Bridget’s eyes flew to his and she raised her eyebrows, he felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay. He’d probably get a kick in the shins for his effort.

“Rafe? You home?”

Sophie. Hell.

He waved his hand toward the bedroom, hoping Bridget would take the hint and hide. She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him.

“Just a minute, sis.”

He grabbed Bridget’s elbow and tried to move her toward the bedroom. She didn’t budge. “Maybe you should stay out of sight,” he hissed.

“I’m not guilty of anything, Pascotto. Why should I hide? Unless…” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” he snapped. “Beautiful women really cramp my style.”

He strode over to the door and yanked it open. The second he connected with his sister’s deep-brown gaze, his tense shoulder muscles relaxed, and he smiled. Now that she was over her morning sickness, Sophie glowed. And although she was a good foot shorter than he was, they looked a lot alike with the same dark brown hair. His eyes were the same blue as their mother’s, but Sophie had brown eyes. She’d let her hair grow out of the pixie cut she’d had forever. Gage’s influence, he supposed. A lot of things had changed since Gage had appeared in their lives.

As if picking up on his thoughts, which she often did, she glanced at his hair. “Time for a haircut, Rafe.” She smiled sweetly at him. “And you’re way too handsome to hide behind a beard.”

He leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I like hiding.”

She laughed. “I hate to break it to you, bro, but you are so old news.” Her laughter stopped when she noticed Bridget watching them from across the room.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company. I’m Sophie, Rafe’s sister.” She leaned across the couch that Bridget was standing behind and shook her hand.

“Brid—”

“Birdie,” Rafe cut her off. “We met in Paris.” He addressed his sister while keeping his eyes on Bridget. She did know that Sophie was married to Gage, didn’t she? He’d hate like hell to have to explain to Gage just exactly why Bridget was in his apartment. It’s not that they were doing anything illegal, unless…

Rafe blanched. What if gems really were missing from the trade show? Would Gage have sent Sophie over here to check up on him? No, he was being paranoid. Like he’d told Bridget, his apartment was the last place anyone would look for her.

“Hungry?” He took his sister by the arm and led her to the couch. “Want something to drink?”

Sophie groaned as she sank onto the couch. “Water would be great. Look at me. I’m only six months along, and I’m already as big as an elephant.”

“Boy or girl?” Bridget asked as she perched on the arm of the chair across from the couch.

“We don’t know. We want it to be a surprise.”

“Where’s Gage tonight?” Rafe hoped like hell he wasn’t dropping by to pick Sophie up later.

Sophie sighed. “Working. He thought he had the night off, but he got a call. I hate his cell phone.” She picked at the arm of the couch. “I hope it wasn’t anything dangerous. He left in a hurry.”

Rafe and Bridget looked at each other. She gnawed on her bottom lip as her face darkened with worry. Gage had probably been called to the trade show.

“He’s always careful, Sophie. Now more than ever. If he finds out you’re worrying about him, he’ll get distracted.”

“I know,” she said in a low voice. “He mostly just interviews people now, anyway.”

Grills them was a more accurate description of what Gage did. He had firsthand experience of Gage’s skills as an interrogator.

Rafe watched both women for a minute before deciding it was safe to leave Bridget alone with his sister long enough for him to grab a glass of water for Sophie. Now that she was married, Sophie couldn’t wait for him to get hitched. With the fervor of a religious convert, she detailed the advantages of married life every chance she got. And in the last few weeks, she’d even stooped so low as to invite him to dinner while coincidently asking an available woman at the same time. She’d tricked him twice before he’d caught on.

He didn’t need help hooking up with women. He was taking a break from the dating scene, that’s all. Most of the women he’d associated with for the last three years had bored him, and he finally decided rather than fill his empty evenings spending time with someone he didn’t care about, he’d was better off on his own until he met someone interesting.

Like Bridget O’Neill.

Hell, no
. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. A man would have to have a death wish to get involved with Irish. Sure she was stunning. Sexy. Smart, too.

Rafe caught his smile and doused it. She was trouble. Period. Forget feeling sorry for her. He needed to get rid of her as soon as he could.

He hurried back into the living room. Bridget was nibbling on a grape, watching Sophie with a frown.

“What’s the matter?”

Bridget ignored him. “Are you okay, Sophie?”

“Maybe.” Sophie placed a hand on her forehead. “I felt dizzy for a second, but I’m okay now.”

Rafe knelt in front of her. “Put your feet up on the coffee table. I’ll give you a foot massage.”

Sophie beamed at him. “I thought you’d never offer. Just a sec.” She rolled onto one hip. “There’s something under my bum.”

She pulled out Bridget’s red, sequin evening bag. Sophie turned it over in her hands. “It’s beautiful. Is it yours? It must be from Paris.”

When she offered the purse, Bridget took it from her hands. “Yes, it is. Thanks.”

Sophie sank back against the couch, closed her eyes and wiggled her toes. “Any time you’re ready, Rafe.”