Love Unlocked (7 page)

He released her slowly, holding them both steady as they caught their breaths. He could wait. “Thanks for dinner,” he said in a low voice, then let her go, disappearing into the inky black. She didn’t wait for him to drive away, but retreated back into the house. His heart raced so loudly he could hear his own pulse over the roar of his pickup as he backed it up and turned it toward town.

Eve was going to have to make do with the memory of two soul-altering kisses. She’d never had a use for passion. Passion made you sloppy and got you caught. She was always cerebral when it came to her life—so cerebral that men were only pawns to get what she needed. Those kisses had kept her awake half the night, her mind unable to stop replaying every searing detail. She assembled the ingredients for French toast, sugar being her regular antidote to the lethargy of a bad night’s sleep.

She had never met a man who made her want to be a different person, a better person. For the first time, she felt ashamed of her past. How would Hudson react if she told him she’d broken laws in six countries, stolen millions of dollars worth of paintings from mostly innocent people? Would he be impressed that she could pick any lock in under thirty seconds, or run for the hills?

He didn’t seem so sanctimonious that he might turn her in, but she didn’t think he would be happy, either. She wasn’t entirely happy with herself. There was passion between them, yes, but there was also a deeper link, and that connection couldn’t be made real and whole unless they were honest with one another. She couldn’t have a relationship with him if she was hiding a ten-year chapter of her life from him every minute of every day. If he’d been a man without demands, whom she could be merely comfortable with, perhaps she could leave her old life behind as she’d planned and feel okay about not revealing that side of herself. She could get a regular job, get married, have babies, and no one would have to know.

But he was Hudson. He would have to know. She longed to have the freedom to open herself up to him all the way. She pictured his reaction if she told him the truth. He’d recoil, shocked, angry, or she didn’t know him very well. Eve laughed at the sentiment. She didn’t know him at all, and she was contemplating his reaction to her deepest secrets. The chance of them getting to that point was nil.

He wasn’t coming any closer to her. She couldn’t let him.

All that was left of the French toast when John entered the kitchen was a plate sticky with syrup. For the first time, Eve noticed how thin he was, how his eyes were ringed by purple smudges.

“Are you all right?” she asked sympathetically as she poured him some strong coffee.

“Jet lag,” he said, downing half a cup. His hands were a bit shaky when she topped him up.

“How long are you staying?” she asked as she put together a simple chopped salad for lunch. The men working on the deck were on their own lunch break in the shade of the trees behind her house.

“I have to leave tomorrow, but I’ll meet you in Montecito for the gig next week. If you decide to do it, that is.”

She set the salad bowl down hard on the bar. “You know I have to do it, John, but it galls me.”

“Let’s get it over with and then Deacon will leave us alone.”

She wanted to believe that. She tried to get herself into the brisk, businesslike mindset that helped her quell her nerves before she plunged into a dangerous job. “Tell me the details. I was so annoyed yesterday I didn’t listen very closely.”

“It’s a Mondrian. About a foot and a half square. Worth ten mil. Some rich businessman is giving it on permanent loan to the Santa Barbara Art Museum. It will be on display for one night only, that’s next Friday night, a week from tomorrow, at the bloke’s house in Montecito. There’s a fundraiser that night. Should be a couple of hundred people. We can get in, scope out the security, then come back later and lift the painting. Delivery is by Saturday at noon.”

Eve imagined the chain of events. They’d handled worse situations on shorter notice. “It sounds straightforward enough. Can we find a hole in the security with that little prep time?”

“We’ll have to. It has to be that night. Apparently, the painting is stored in a vault until then, and the next day, it will be transported to the museum. We don’t have time to pull off an in-transit switch or anything like that.”

John helped himself to more coffee. He seemed better with the caffeine in his system, and he was like a magician when it came to finding weaknesses in even the tightest security system. With him by her side, they could do this.

“Fine. I’ll think about how to gain access to the party. Once we’re there, we’ll have to get creative.”

“I’ll get to Montecito a few days early and see how much intel I can gather. You meet me there Friday and we’ll do this thing.”

“This is not exactly how I’d pictured spending my time when I quit the business, you know.”

“But don’t you miss it, even a little? Did you know I haven’t worked since you left? No one has the same finesse as you, Evie darling.”

Eve felt a little guilty for leaving her friend in the lurch, but she’d been content to settle into a life where she didn’t have to always look over her shoulder. “You’ll find someone even better than me. Or you could always find something else to do. Try going straight like me.”

“Me? I’m a lifer, Evie. I thought you were, too. Honestly, what are you doing in this place?” John made a vague gesture with his hands, indicating the general vicinity. She sighed. He didn’t understand.

“I’ll miss the excitement, maybe, for a little while. But Deacon coming after me, making Paris too hot, was a blessing in disguise. Now that I’m away, I feel like I can start my life over, do it better this time. Maybe do something to help people instead of only helping myself.” She smiled at his mock-horrified expression. “This is paradise, John. Fresh air, farmers markets, friendly people. I think I’m going to be happy here.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Then my idea of paradise is very different from yours, darling. How about the high-roller suite in Monte Carlo, never having to lift a finger to work again?”

“You know I’m a terrible gambler. You go, have your fun. I’m done.”

“We’ll see,” John said.

***

Eve took John for a walk on the beach the next morning before he was to leave Chelsea. The sun shone as bright as a ten-carat diamond, warming the sand beneath their feet. The few humans on that stretch of sand were outnumbered by seagulls twenty to one.

Her shoulders lost some of their tension as she walked with her old friend. Over the past two days, they’d eaten and drunk and reminisced and done some planning for what she vowed would be her absolute final job the following week. They were both silent on this outing, and she enjoyed the feel of sand between her toes, the fresh ocean breeze that came and went with the waves.

When they were halfway to the jutting rocks that marked the end of Chelsea Cove, he broke the silence.

“Are you sure our shoes will be safe?”

“If they aren’t, I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“Yes, you will. Those are vintage Gucci.”

“Isn’t walking barefoot so much nicer?” She’d told him to leave his shoes behind at the stairs they’d used to access the beach. He’d only agreed because he didn’t want to get sand in his expensive Italian loafers.

“I suppose. I’m going to be busy for a few days, but I’ll be in touch early next week so we can finalize our plans.”

She sighed. “I hate that we have to do this at all.”

“I know. We’re backed into a corner. At least we’re in it together. We’ll do this, Deacon will be off our backs, and you can go back to playing house and atoning for your sins while I carry on, alone.”

His voice was light, but there was a grain of truth behind his complaint.

She cuffed him on the arm, laughing a little. “I know you don’t completely understand my reasons for leaving, John, but I appreciate you trying. Deacon’s got it in for you, too. I won’t let you down on this.”

“Evie darling—” John’s wheedling tone set off alarm bells in Eve’s brain. “—if we’re going to pull this off, an extra pair of hands might be useful.”

“Sadly, my network is a little thin on this side of the world. Someone like Ivan would be perfect. I’m fairly sure he’s ensconced with his sugar mama in Ibiza for the season.”

“I was actually thinking of Hudson.”

“Hudson Cleary?” The concept didn’t compute.

“What other Hudsons do you know?”

“But he’s a civilian. No, absolutely not, no. He’d be a liability. He’s probably a boy scout and would call the cops or something. No.” The idea of Hudson working the job with them was laughable at best.

John grinned. “He strikes me as a very reliable fellow, and he’s got the hots for you. Don’t tell me he wouldn’t accompany you on a romantic weekend away, if you promised to make it worth his while.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Eve laughed despite herself. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You don’t have to tell him why, or the entire plan. The less he knows, the better. He can be your cover.”

“Lie to him?” It would mean doing the one thing he’d asked her never to do.

“Call it omitting certain damaging details.”

“Right.”

“So you’ll think about it,” John persisted.

“No, I will not think about it. That’s not an option.”

“Fine. You’re the boss.”

“Fine. Where are you going, anyway?” She was anxious imagining her turning Hudson into some kind of patsy. Better to focus on John.

“Don’t you worry about that. Some of us still have to work, you know.”

She pushed down the feelings of guilt that had been rising through this entire conversation. She was sick of feeling guilty no matter what path she took. She thought of the manila envelope she still hadn’t opened. Perhaps when this mess was cleared up, she’d be able to take that step.

“Let’s go make sure your shoes haven’t been ravaged by seagulls.”

The look on John’s face was priceless.

***

A few hours later, Eve stood on her porch, looking down the road long after the taxi bearing John had driven out of sight. It would have been heaven to curl up with a book and a whisky, and then go to sleep and not wake until her life made a little sense.

But hard to brood when she had three boisterous workers making a racket as they finished the deck. They were working at full tilt to get the construction finished before the weekend.

Since she couldn’t mope around and feel sorry for herself, she should get something done. She hadn’t so much as glanced at her collection since the night she and Hudson had examined it together. With painstaking care, she finished unwrapping each precious painting, then asked the foreman to do her a favor and dismantle the crate and haul it away with him at the end of the day.

There were a dozen and a half pieces in all. It took her the entirety of the afternoon to arrange and rearrange them before she was satisfied with their distribution around the house. She found herself wondering what Hudson would say about her choice of the Degas in the downstairs powder room, or the sweet little medieval Madonna by the living room window. She’d hung countless shows at her galleries, but she still could have used his painter’s eye.

It unsettled her that she thought of him so often. Her concentration was shot. She blamed it entirely on him and that kiss. Well, both kisses. The first had been dreamy, unexpectedly sensual. The second had been intensely craved, and deeply felt. If the first kiss had been the product of flirtation, the second had been born of lust; unfortunately, she was as lusty as ever.

So there she stood in her bedroom, holding the final painting up to the wall, thinking about Hudson’s brain as she studied the color contrast between the still life and the room’s light. When she had the final placement right, she turned her thoughts to Hudson’s body, and how she’d like to sink onto her bed with him on top of her, so he could make good on the promise of those searing kisses. She felt branded by them, and no amount of wishing it away would erase that feeling.

Eve shivered. It seemed Hudson Cleary was a complication she couldn’t make herself avoid. She set the painting down and grabbed her phone before she could talk herself out of it.

The length of the five rings before he answered were almost enough time for good sense to filter back through the haze of lust she’d been in all afternoon.

“What can I do for you, Eve?” His sexy bass broke through her meager defenses.

“I know you probably already have plans, since it’s Friday night, but I was wondering if you wanted...dinner. To have dinner with me.” Could she be more incoherent?

“I can be there in fifteen minutes. Dinner optional.” His voice was deeper, rougher. Just how she liked it.

“No,” she said weakly. “Only dinner.”

 “All right, dinner first.”

“Just dinner.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

“Dinner,” he repeated.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“A little.”

“Then you can bring the wine. I’m making pork. Be here at seven.” She hung up. At least, she’d gotten in the last word.

***

The doorbell wasn’t unexpected, but it still made Eve jump. She took a deep breath. They were having dinner, and that was it. She was being friendly. Kissing didn’t even figure into the equation, because they weren’t going to do any of it. Right.

She tore off the oversized T-shirt she’d put on in lieu of an apron and smoothed down her hair on the way to the front door.

He’d made an effort, which made her feel better about the hour she’d spent deciding between outfits. She’d been going for a “I’m so naturally stunning I don’t even need to try” sort of look with her hair loose, her feet bare, and a simple white blouse over perfectly tailored jeans. Rubies twinkled at her ears and neck, making her feel powerful.

Hudson was also in jeans, but in place of his normal broken-in flannel, he wore a thin cashmere sweater the color of his eyes, a chocolate brown that made him look completely edible. His hair was a little damp, and he smelled like fresh laundry. The wholesome image was utterly cancelled out by the wolfish grin on his face and the bottle of Dom Pérignon in his hands.