Lost and Found (10 page)

Rules were made to be broken.

She put her arms around his neck. The moisture in the air had dampened his hair and his windbreaker, but that
hardly mattered. He was hot enough to dry the rain off both of them. He was holding her so snugly against him that she could hardly breathe. That didn’t matter either. Nothing mattered except getting as close as possible.

The intensity of her excitement blindsided her. Desire, fierce and relentless and thrilling, flooded her senses. She gripped his shoulders hard.

“Mack.”

He slid one hand down her back to her upper leg, gripped and lifted her up against him. Her robe fell open. She gasped at the sudden deepening of the intimate physical contact and clung to him more fiercely.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this for hours,” he muttered.

“Me too.”

“No wonder neither of us could sleep.”

He picked her up in his arms and shifted his mouth to her throat. She felt the night whirl around her. She realized that he was crossing the balcony to the sliding glass door.

“Open it,” he breathed when he reached the barrier.

She groped for the handle and managed to haul the door aside. He carried her into the deeper shadows of the room.

By the time he fell with her in his arms down onto the rumpled sheets, she was wild and breathless and more excited than she had ever been in her life. A great, glorious urgency consumed her.

She rolled with him across the broad bed, frantic and eager and a little delirious. He fought her for the embrace, using his weight to pin her down at last. When she came to rest he was on top of her, one leg between her thighs. The robe had come undone completely in the passionate scuffle, leaving her sheathed only in the thin nightgown.

Mack already had a hand beneath the edge of the garment. She felt his warm, strong palm on the inside of her thigh and then he was cupping her, probing her, stroking
her. She felt the moisture between her legs and knew that he could feel it too.

She kissed him with growing desperation. Every place she could reach with her mouth was fair game—the curve of his shoulder, the lobe of his ear, the inside of his wrist. Somewhere in the back of her mind a tiny warning bell sounded. This was not her love life. Wild flings with virtual strangers was not her style.

But the pealing of the small bell was too distant and too weak to be anything more than a minor distraction.

Mack lifted himself away from her long enough to strip off his windbreaker, the black T-shirt underneath and his trousers.

When he came back down on top of her a moment later, she was more than ready for him. He did not hesitate. He used one hand to guide himself slowly, heavily, deeply into her.

His low, husky groan held both anticipation and satisfaction.

She was wet and ready for him when he entered, but she had never experienced such a full sensation. There was too much of him. Her first thought was that he would never fit. Her second thought was that he was perfect, just what she needed to give her relief from this driving tension.

He stroked slowly, once, twice, and then the too-tight feel of him inside her swamped her overstimulated senses. Her whole lower body clenched.

Mack sucked in his breath.

The release that followed stunned her with its intensity. Mack covered her mouth and swallowed the shriek.

In the next instant, his body stiffened, every muscle taut. She dug her nails into his back. He wrenched his mouth away from hers and buried his face in the bedding beside her.

His own exultant shout was only partially muffled by the plump, fluffy down pillow.

She had been right, she thought. Some rules were made to be broken.

S
he rose languidly from the depths of the pleasant exhaustion that had settled on her immediately after the climax. Outside on the balcony the rain continued to fall in a steady patter.

She opened her eyes and saw the large dark silhouette that was Mack lying beside her. He was on his stomach, his face turned away toward the night. The quilt covered him to his waist, leaving bare the sleek contours of his back. She thought of how he had lifted her so easily and carried her into the bedroom. Fantasy Man.

She smiled to herself, savoring the delicious sensation that was flowing through her. She wondered if this feeling was common after truly great sex.

“Mack?”

No response.

“Mack?” Louder this time.

“Mmm?” He did not raise his head from the pillow.

She levered herself up on one elbow. “I was just wondering about something.”

“Could you wonder about it in the morning?” he mumbled into the pillow.

“I’ve been thinking. Earlier you told me how you managed to find me at Vandyke’s house, but you weren’t clear on
why
you followed me there.”

There was a short, distinct pause.

“A hunch.”

“It must have been more than a hunch.” She frowned, thinking back on the events of the evening. “I know you said something about keeping an eye on your outside
consultants, but I doubt if you go chasing after each one every time he or she makes a trip while under contract to Lost and Found.”

Mack did not respond to that observation. She wondered if he had gone back to sleep.

“Mack?”

“Do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Get chatty after sex?”

The irritation in his voice hurt. She told herself that he was just grouchy because she had pulled him out of a sound sleep. Heroes needed their rest. But she had to know.

“Was it your intuition?” she asked gently. “I know men don’t like to admit that they pay attention to stuff like that, but you can tell me.”

He did not move for a few seconds. Then, very deliberately, he pushed the pillow up against the headboard, punched it a couple of times and turned onto his back.

“I guess you could call it intuition,” he said finally.

A light, happy sensation fizzled through her. Obviously a bond of some sort had been established between them during the past few months. What had happened tonight was more than just a one-night stand.

“You sensed that I might be in danger?” she asked. “That’s amazing.”

There was a short pause from his side of the bed.

“I don’t think you can say that I sensed it,” he said.

“Well? What made you decide to ride to the rescue?”

“This is important to you, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t sure why, but she understood that she needed to know the answer.

“All right, I didn’t know that you might be in physical danger until I arrived at the cabin and realized that things didn’t look right.”

“So why did you follow me there?”

He scrubbed his face with his hand. “Because I figured that you had brokered your own deal with Vandyke. Thought you’d dug up a buyer for the helmet.”

“A
buyer
?” It took an effort to wrap her mind around the enormity of her misunderstanding. But when she finally grasped the significance of what he had said, she went first cold and then hot with rage. “Wait a second. You thought I’d arranged a deal for the helmet?”

“Yeah.”

“One that did not include your clients?”

“Yeah.”

“How could you possibly think that?”

He shrugged, either unaware or uncaring of her rising fury. “When I realized you’d suddenly hopped a plane to see the guy who had the helmet, I did the logic.”

“You did the logic?” It was all she could do to keep her voice relatively even. “
What
logic?”

“If you recovered the helmet and returned it to Dewey and Notch, you would receive your usual fee from Lost and Found. But you would get that fee regardless of whether or not you located the piece, right?”

“Right,” she said very tightly.

“On the other hand, if you talked Vandyke into selling the helmet to another collector or a dealer on the underground market, someone who wouldn’t ask too many questions, you could pick up a hefty commission in addition to whatever I paid you. All you had to do was report back to me that you couldn’t trace the helmet. You see where I’m going here?”

“Yes, I certainly do, Mr. Easton.” She pushed herself up onto her knees and wrapped the quilt around her. “Where you’re going is an insult to my professional integrity and my reputation.”

It must have finally dawned on him that she was furious.

“I was just being cautious,” he said carefully.

“Cautious, nothing. You thought I was planning to cheat you.” Her voice climbed in spite of her best efforts. “You assumed that I was going to double-cross you. You just leaped to the conclusion that I was a crook.”

“I was going with the probabilities. You have to see how it looked from my point of view.”

“No, I do not have to see how it looked from your point of view.” She scrambled off the bed, taking the quilt with her. “I can see from my point of view that your point of view is nothing less than an insult. How dare you accuse me of trying to con you?”

“I didn’t accuse you of anything.” He sat up slowly. “I wasn’t taking any chances, that’s all. Lost and Found is a business. I have to run it like one.”

“Is that right? Well, I happen to be in business, too. This is my professional reputation you’re trashing here. How am I supposed to respond to that kind of thing? How would you act if the shoe was on the other foot?”

“I’m trying to explain—”

“I think you’ve done enough explaining. I don’t want to hear any more of your stupid explanations.” She drew herself up in the quilt. “You followed me because you thought I was betraying you, not because you were concerned about my safety.”

“I’m sorry.” He rolled to his feet and faced her across the width of the bed. “I made a mistake.”

“Yes, you certainly did.”

“It wouldn’t have happened if you had kept me in the loop.”

“It’s called taking the initiative. And don’t you dare blame this on me. I didn’t even know if it was the right helmet, for crying out loud. I knew how excited Dewey and Notch were. I didn’t want them to get their hopes up and then disappoint them.”

“I apologize.” Mack shoved his fingers through his
hair. “That’s all I can do. We’ve already agreed that next time you’ll follow procedures so that this kind of misunderstanding doesn’t happen again.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Easton, there’s not a chance in hell that there will be any future misunderstandings between us.” She smiled coldly across the rumpled sheets. “Because there isn’t going to be a next time. When you get back to your office, you can remove me from your roster of consultants because I won’t be taking any more assignments from Lost and Found.”

“Calm down.” He reached for his trousers. “You’re a little wired right now. Probably more delayed stress. We’ll discuss this after we’ve had some sleep.”

“No, we will not discuss this in the morning. You and I have nothing more to talk about, Mack.”

“Take it easy.” He drew up his zipper with a quick, efficient motion. “You told me earlier that you liked the work you do for Lost and Found. And you’re good at it. Why would you want to give it up just because you’re a little pissed at me right now?”

“You’re right. I do like the work.” Cold triumph blazed through her. “But it occurs to me that I don’t need to take any more consulting contracts from Lost and Found. I can find my own clients.”

He stilled. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’ve had some experience in the field now. I’ve got the hang of this business and I’ve got plenty of connections in the art world. Once the word gets out that I’m available to trace lost and stolen art, clients will be beating down my door.”

“You think it’s that easy?” Disbelief mingled with outrage in his voice. “I’ve got news for you. It’s one thing to trace missing art through the underground markets. Recovering it is something else altogether. You saw what happened tonight. There are some nasty players in this end of the business.”

“So? If I need muscle, I’m sure I can hire it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He started around the bed. “You’re upset. Maybe you’re having one of your panic attacks.”

“I’m not panicked, I’m pissed. Believe me, I can tell the difference.”

“Cady—”

She leveled a finger at the sliding glass door behind him. “Get out of here.”

He stopped at the foot of the bed, watching her in the shadows. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

“No. Leave. Right now. You’re right about one thing; I have been under a lot of stress tonight. I need some sleep.”

He hesitated. Then he bent down, jerked his windbreaker off the floor and went to the door. “We’ll discuss this after breakfast.”

“No, we will not. I wouldn’t take another job with Lost and Found if I was starving. Is that clear?”

“We need to talk.”

“We have nothing more to say to each other. I’m about to become your competition.”

“I’ve got nothing against cooperating with the competition on occasion.”

She gave him a steely smile. “Your new competition has a lot against cooperating with Lost and Found. Leave, Mack.”

He opened the slider and stepped out onto the balcony. There he halted once more and glanced back over his shoulder.

“Does this mean that I’m not a hero anymore?” he asked.

She did not deign to respond to that. Instead she rushed around the foot of the bed, seized the handle of the slider and slammed it closed.

She watched through the heavy plate glass as he vanished back over the partition.

The trouble with a good fantasy was that it never stood up to a reality check.

S
he was still seething when she stalked into her condominium the following afternoon. It was good to be home, she told herself. So what if the place felt a little empty? She was used to it, wasn’t she?

Besides, now that she was expanding into the business of tracing lost art, she would probably be doing more traveling. That would mean spending a lot less time here alone.

She dropped the handle of the small, rolling suitcase and picked up the phone to check for messages. There were three of them. She had a fleeting vision of one being from Mack. Maybe he had called to grovel. Not that she would change her mind about working for Lost and Found, of course. But she wouldn’t mind listening to a little groveling.