The Black Sheep and the English Rose (12 page)

And yet, despite all of that, or perhaps because that was what she'd been born to bear, she'd always believed, when the time came, it would be that part of her life that would provide her with her future mate and partner. After all, where else would she meet such a match? Or anyone, really, who was willing to take her on, as well as everything else she came saddled with? Of course, when that day came, she'd have given up her other…pursuits, in order to devote herself to the relationship and all the new demands it would bring. She was even content with that eventuality. Although, admittedly, she hadn't exactly been scoping out the field, as they say, with any real diligence. Perhaps it was because she truly couldn't envision herself with any of the men who typically crossed her path.

Or…perhaps, subconsciously, she hadn't really been all that keen on man-hunting because the man she really wanted, the only one to have ever truly captivated her, and captured her attention, was the one presently sitting a dozen or so yards away in this very plane.

She rolled to her side, restless, far too pent up, and supremely agitated by the whole thing. She definitely didn't need to be thinking this way, certainly not about Finn, and certainly not while there was such an important mission demanding her full attention.

Which left her right back where she started. She needed to find a way to deal with him and succeed in the task at hand without letting either one of them cloud their thinking further by reactivating their dormant physical relationship. Tell that to the pulsing, demanding ache that wouldn't subside no matter how tightly she pressed her thighs together. Perhaps Finn was right, and they should just—no. No, she told herself firmly. Don't even go there. He'd already made it clear he was going to want more. Far, far more than she could give.

Shockingly, she felt a sudden burn behind her eyes and squeezed them immediately, tightly shut to ward off any ridiculous tears that might think to form there. What a hopeless case she was! Finn was out of reach. Completely. Felicity could in no way allow herself to think their lives could entwine, other than like this. And this wasn't enough. Finn was right about that. In fact, this, what little she'd had of it, of him, was already too much. It was true. If he couldn't be everything, then he had to be nothing.

She rolled to her back and stared once again at the ceiling, dry eyed, jaw set, fingers digging into the bedspread, knowing what she had to do. It was the only thing she could do. To save herself, save them both. To regain their focus on what was really at stake here. And that was to get as much information as she could from him while they were in the air, and then, at the first possible chance that presented itself after landing, take off on her own. It was where she should have remained all along.

And let the better man, or woman, win.

Just then the intercom buzzer went off, making her jump. But she quickly gathered herself, stood, and smoothed her skirt. A quick look in the mirror confirmed what she already knew. Eyes steely, chin set, resolve firmly in place. It was time to put that resolve into action.

Only, as she slid open the accordion-fold door and stepped into the hallway, she came flush up against Finn, who had just stepped out of the attending conference area and was lifting his hand to rap on the frame next to her door. Instead, his knuckles brushed against her hair, a touch she moved instinctively, naturally, into, before she could marshal any rational, cognizant thought. The instant she did, a mere split second later, she tried to correct the motion, but it was already too late. He was smoothing a strand of her hair back in place, and his face was far too close to hers as he leaned in. In violation of her personal space, he unrepentantly took one step farther as he drew the ends of her hair across her bottom lip, only to drop the soft curl and replace it with his fingertips.

“Sleep well?” he asked, his tone amused and dry, as it often was, yet completely at odds with the intensity of his gaze.

“I—no.” She should step back. Or at the very least bat his hand away, make it clear she wasn't to be toyed with. Only her body wouldn't respond to any command she gave it. It was too damn busy responding to Finn. But she still had a voice in this. “Finn, I can't—”

“Won't,” he corrected quietly.

“Can't,” she averred. “Nothing can come of this. And you're right in that if what little there has been isn't enough, for either of us, then it's not fair to continue. So, no, I really can't.”

“Why are you so certain there isn't anything else there? You're not even going to give yourself a chance to find out?”

She shook her head. Big mistake, in that it caused his fingertips to brush along her cheek. It made her want to bury her face in that wide, warm palm of his, rub against it like a kitten seeking warmth. She wanted to grab the front of his shirt, drag him back to the bed behind her, and indulge in every animal craving he'd ever inspired within her, knowing he'd fulfill each and every one.

“Our lives are so very different,” she said, her voice not much more than a hushed whisper. She lifted her gaze to his, hoping he saw the sincerity in her plea—and it was just that, a plea, because if he pushed, she wasn't sure she could resist. “Our paths cross in a place that exists only outside those normal boundaries. You can straddle those boundaries because your regular life and this are one in the same. Mine aren't. And I can't.”

“So, that makes me what? Your dirty little secret?”

“Finn—”

“No, the dirty little secret isn't me. It's this.” He gestured to their general surroundings. “This alter ego life you lead. You're right. What I do—all of what I do—and who I am aren't mutually exclusive. I know you think we're worlds apart outside of this moment, this place, this mission. I don't happen to have such a narrow view. Of either of us. As far as I see it, what prevents us from exploring the possibility that there might be something more here than an exceedingly intense physical connection isn't your life in London and mine in Virginia. We're both fortunate enough to be in a situation where overcoming geographical boundaries isn't that big of an obstacle, should we want to. What's preventing you from pursuing this is being unable to bring any part of this world into your regular world.”

“It's a valid concern,” she said, which was nothing but the truth, no matter that he didn't understand the real reasons why.

He leaned in closer. “I know, but if I were going to turn you in, or do anything to threaten your existence in this little alternate life you've created for yourself, I already would have. And I sure as hell wouldn't be standing here asking you to consider developing any kind of relationship with me. Don't you get that?”

She felt a fine trembling begin in her fingers and start to spread. He wasn't going to give up. Not easily. Not unless she gave him no other choice. “Even if I trusted that this wasn't some kind of ploy—”

“I'm not lying to you. My words and actions have always matched.”

“In the few short times we've been together, yes, they have. But you've also pursued your own interests in each matter, as have I. Which isn't surprising, nor would I have expected anything less. But I'm not foolish enough to believe—I can't allow myself to believe—that whatever interest you've developed for me would eclipse getting the job done, especially if both were to come to a crucial point at the same moment in time.” Despite the tremors rippling through her, she held his gaze. “Can you honestly tell me otherwise?”

“There's another solution to that dilemma.”

“That's not an answer.”

“It's not meant to be.”

“So, what you're saying is, I must give up this ‘little alternate life,' as you call it, if I want to be with you, or even explore the possibility that there might be something more worthwhile between us.”

He shuffled closer, trapping her between the door frame and his body. “If it's thrills you're seeking, perhaps we can find another avenue that will satisfy those cravings.”

Her body responded instantly to his suggestion, which wasn't surprising since she knew damn well he could deliver on it. Without question. Quite thoroughly. And repeatedly. She could only imagine just how inventive he could be, given the challenge.

It was a struggle to find some sense of balance. He was far too close, and every facet of her equilibrium was threatened, physically, emotionally, intellectually.

“I wish it were that simple,” she said, as sincere in that moment as she'd ever been.

“I don't understand why it isn't.”

It was there, right on the tip of her tongue, the truth. And the desire to tell him, to reveal that truth, was so strong it actually made her insides cramp. She knew he couldn't possibly guess what was really going on, and that in an odd sort of way, she should be flattered that he was actually going against principle in his pursuit of her—not that he'd be willing to accept her apparent flouting of the law in any actual relationship, but he hadn't dismissed her out of hand simply because he thought she was engaging in activities he could never morally sanction.

But there was still the thread of disappointment that he hadn't yet conceived that there could be another explanation for her actions. That it had to be greed, or thrill seeking, or even something as simple as boredom that drove her to do what he thought she was doing. Hell, to some men, being an international jewel thief might even seem sexy and exciting, a real turn-on. But that wasn't the case with Finn. Quite the opposite. He found her appealing despite her apparent avocation, not because of it.

She wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him and make him question her, poke, prod, and dig until he either discovered the truth or pushed her hard enough to reveal it. But it was as if he hadn't even considered such a thing. And, as irrational as it might be, that hurt. It meant he hadn't a clue who she really was. Of course, he'd met her as a jewel thief, and she certainly hadn't given him any indication, given their explicit and extended carnal activities, that she harbored the sort of normal wants and desires most women held out for in a real relationship.

But they were there all the same. And just as he was discovering that he couldn't keep up the pretense that wild flings were satisfying for him, neither could she. She just wished that he sensed that about her without her having to tell him. After all, she'd met him under the same outrageous circumstances, and yet, she already knew him to be decent and honorable.

“What is it you're not telling me, Felicity Jane?” he asked.

Her heart skipped a beat. It was as close to a revelation as he'd had as yet. Her brain scrambled to weigh all the pros and cons; but it was in constant flux with the reactions of her body, and her heart, and it was all such a huge jumble, there was no way she could make a rational judgment. Not with him looking at her like that, and her wanting all sorts of things that were in direct conflict with why she'd been sent here and what she'd promised to get done. But her mind wouldn't stop spinning, teasing her with ridiculous possibilities, ones that should certainly seem outrageous at best, terrifying at worst. And yet she couldn't stop that little voice from whispering, tauntingly, teasingly, that perhaps it was possible she could somehow tell him and they could join forces and he'd be the one man with whom maybe, just maybe, she could have it all—

Then he cupped her cheek and turned her gaze to his when she looked away in a vain effort to regroup. “Do you need help?” he asked, never more sincere, real concern outlined in every inch of his handsome face. “Have you gotten into something you can't easily extricate yourself from?”

This time her heart didn't skip; it stopped altogether, then thundered on with such ferocity she felt it might explode from the sudden intensity of it. Not to mention the anger that accompanied it. He not only hadn't expanded his thinking about the motivations behind her actions, but he was worried that in all her lawlessness, she'd gone and gotten herself into a spot of trouble. My, my, what an opinion he held of her.

“No,” she said flatly, and pointedly extricated herself from the tight space he'd cornered her into. “I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, but thank you ever so kindly for your concerns. I think we've deliberated this point to its only conclusion.” She was all crisp business and haughty demeanor now. It helped hide the hurt and disappointment that shouldn't be the crushing blow they were. “I'd appreciate it if we could sit and discuss our strategy upon landing. I'd like to hear what you and your partners have come up with, and see if I have any alternate suggestions I'd like to make.”

She didn't wait for him, but moved back into the main cabin with a deliberate calm that cost her more than he would ever realize.

Whatever happened over the next few hours, she'd already resolved one thing: as soon as she was able, she was going back to working solo. It was pure fantasy to have believed, even for that one shining split second, that there was ever going to be another way.

F
inn stood in the now empty passageway, wondering what in the hell had just happened. One second her barriers had fallen, revealing something quite surprisingly vulnerable beneath that confident surface. The next moment, not only were the barriers wholly back in place, but they'd been reinforced with a fair amount of anger. Only he had no idea what he'd said to provoke it.

He knew she had a lot of pride in her abilities, well earned, but he hadn't thought she'd bristle quite so ardently at the mere suggestion that perhaps she'd gotten in over her head and might need a helping hand. If anything, he'd have thought she'd have laughed at the offer.

He played back over the moment just before that, when he'd asked her what she wasn't telling him. He might not understand the rest, but he needed no additional clarification for that particular moment. There had been something quite…naked in the expression that had crossed her face. He had absolutely no doubt he'd hit on something there. The question was, what was it? Clearly, the very mention that whatever it was might have put her in jeopardy had pushed her in the entirely opposite direction. Which he didn't understand.

What he did know was that there was more going on here for her than an adrenaline-punching jewel heist. This alternate life, or maybe just this adventure, mattered to her somehow. The image of her face, her eyes, the way her lips had instinctively parted when he'd asked her what she'd left unsaid, played through his mind again. And again. There had been both fear and yearning in her eyes. Whatever it was, for a second there, or two, she'd wanted to tell him.

Then he'd offered to help her with whatever it was, and wham, bam, the conversation—and any sway he'd gained with her—was over.
Fini
. Done.

He stared out into the main cabin, watched as she seated herself quite stiffly—regally, really—in one of the central chairs, her back to him. As concerned and confused as he was, he found himself smiling. So she was pissed at him. Royally. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, in that it was also telling. Because that kind of anger could be fueled only by one thing: passion. If he didn't matter, he wouldn't rate that kind of response.

All he had to do now was figure out the source.

And hold fast to the knowledge that while she was busy saying no and constructing walls, in that moment when she'd looked into his eyes, there had been confusion and longing plainly there for him to see. And that said otherwise. There was something else going on here, whether or not she could tell him, whether or not she'd even admitted it to herself. He just had to figure out what it was.

He walked over to the table and seated himself, deciding as he did to proceed as if it were business only. He'd pressed his case, made his plea. He wasn't giving up, not even close, but she was clearly in retreat and regroup mode. Pushing someone when they're scrambling often worked to break down that resistance, at least enough to get them to the point where they'd ask for help. He knew with someone like Felicity, it would only make her rebuild those defenses twice as fast, and twice as sturdy. Now was the time to back off and do a little regrouping of his own.

He pulled a sealed roll of English biscuits from the bag on the chair next to him and a bottle of water. “It's not much, but it might be a good idea.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked from the roll of cookies to him. “Where on earth did you find McIvities?”

He slid them over to her, smiling. “I'm magic, remember?” He immediately pulled out his iPhone and tapped on the screen, pulling up the notes he'd taken during his phone conference with Rafe. “I've been in contact with one of my partners, who did a little digging on our art gallery owner.”

He was pleased to see her take the water and slide a few cookies from the plastic wrapper, but went on without comment. “I've confirmed that Julia's gallery has been open only two years and is quite successful under any new business standard, but almost ridiculously successful for a young, untried gallery owner.”

“Where does her success come from specifically?”

Finn settled back in his seat, only partly relieved to be back on solid footing. The rest of him was still stuck back in that hallway. Wanting things he couldn't have. “Private showings of sponsored artists have provided a good portion of her sales, enough to keep her in the black, even as early as during her first six months in business.”

Felicity shrugged. “Lucky maybe. Or really good PR. Do we know anything about that angle?”

Finn tapped on the screen, scrolling down. “No, at least nothing of note popped up on Rafe's first look-see.” He glanced up. “And he'd find it if it's there to be found.”

“So you've said. Good digger, is he?”

He held her gaze then. “The best.” She immediately went back to nibbling the cookie, and he couldn't help but wonder if she was concerned that he might also have asked Rafe to research her. Thing was, he'd been more than tempted. And it was foolish, actually, to have ignored the instinct. He should have put his partners on every possible lead, but instead, he hadn't even mentioned he wasn't working alone. He didn't want anyone or anything intruding on this time, at least until he got a better personal handle on it. Which was true, for the most part. He was also avoiding such information, not really wanting to know whatever Rafe might find out about her. Partly because he wasn't ready to have his fantasy destroyed quite yet, though he suspected that was the only real end he could hope for. And partly because he wanted to at least hear it from her directly.

“Maybe she's just that good at picking talent,” Felicity offered, moving them past the moment. “Could she have family connections, perhaps? Important friends helping the new business along as a favor to the family?”

“No family connections that we've found. No family at all, for that matter. She has degrees in both business management and art history. For all we know, opening her own gallery has been a longtime goal.”

“Plausible. So what explains her success? Are the artists who show in her gallery the type that would show in a new, small place? Or is she somehow getting name recognizable talent?”

“That's more Rafe's arena than mine. I don't know that much about art, much less the West Coast artist community, but from the printed reviews he dug up, it doesn't seem that any of the critics are raising eyebrows in that direction. She had a few successful shows with relative unknowns, which brought more new artists to her door, hoping to be selected for future shows. Several of the artists from her initial shows have gone on to have decent, sustained success. Now she's kind of gotten to be the ‘in' place for new talent, and the buyers seem to have her on their list of places to look to be the first to own something by a hot new artist.”

“Could be luck, then.” Felicity mulled that over as she munched on a chocolate-coated cookie, then sipped her water. Finn was momentarily distracted by her lips, but diverted his attention to his notes as soon as he realized what he was doing. He also kept his gaze away from the damn bag by his side. He almost wished he hadn't bought…the things he'd bought. It was damn distracting, knowing they were there, unlikely to be used, all the while watching her mouth do something as innocent as pull on the nozzle of the water bottle. He'd never wanted so badly to be a water bottle nozzle.

Concentrate.

“Anything suspicious about her liaisons with the local talent? Anything other than strict business partnerships?”

“If you mean are the local artists sleeping with her to get the coveted space on her gallery walls? Not that we've found so far. And, just to note, she's as likely to pick female artists as male.”

Felicity smiled. “She's in San Francisco. That might not make a difference.”

Finn couldn't help but smile back, but went right back to his notes when the rest of his body wanted to smile, too. So much for solid footing. “As for personal relationships, he didn't get much on that as yet. Apparently she keeps her private life very private.”

“No one hanging on her arm during her showings?”

He shook his head. “She has a reputation for being friendly and engaging, but strictly business. But if there is a behind-the-scenes liaison going on, Rafe will find it.”

Felicity consulted the slim gold band circling her wrist. Diamonds twinkled from the edge of the watch crystal. Finn couldn't help but wonder where, exactly, they'd come from.

“We don't have much time for further discovery,” she commented.

He glanced at her face, wondering if she was being intentionally provocative. Maybe wishing was more like it. “He'll beep in if he finds anything.”

“Pretty nice bat phone you have. Great signal.”

He smiled. “I'm surprised you don't have your own satellite setup.”

She smiled, but only said, “And, in the meantime? Did we find any previous history between her and Reese? Any kind of connection?”

“Nothing new.” He settled back in his seat. “Do you have any additional insights you'd like to share about the man?”

Her eyes flashed, but she smiled. “Still don't believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you, but you do know him. Certainly better than I do. I didn't know if anything else had come to mind about him that might be of some help.”

“No, nothing new. I've told you everything I know about him.” She recrossed her legs. “Satisfied?”

“Not for a long time, but I'm trying to be good here.”

She did glance at him then, only there was nothing amused to be found in her stare. For some perverse reason, that made him smile anyway. He wondered what she'd say if he told her she was quite adorable when she was annoyed, but figured that would only get him the silent treatment. Or possibly shot. She was a very capable woman, after all.

“We need a plan of attack for when we land,” she said archly. “Did you think to ask your cohort to dig up anything pertaining to Reese's possible exploits in California? Any activity out there? Any reason he'd be heading west, instead of east over the ocean and away from your country's rather frightfully decent legal system?”

“He would if it was the only way to hand off the stone with due assurance it would receive proper handling out of the country. If, in fact, it's leaving the country at all.” Finn's eyes widened. “That's it.”

“What's
it?
You think he's going to try to move it farther personally? As in the Far East? Or north into Canada, then Russia perhaps?”

“I don't know the final destination, but I think I've figured out Julia's role in the transaction.”

“Which is?”

“Broker.”

“She deals in art. Sculpture, canvas. She brokers showings, not international black market jewelry.”

“She's experienced very good success in a short time, which means people with money are in her gallery, buying up art. Those kinds of people have connections. Perhaps she's providing a whole lot more to her patrons than new art. It would possibly explain the quick success as well.”

Felicity seemed to ponder that. “But John is, essentially, the broker. No need for another middle man. Or woman as the case may be.”

“Both sides can broker.”

“I suppose. But we already know Reese had a deal with Chesnokov. He didn't need Julia for that. So, why was she in New York? Coincidence after all? You don't think she's actively dealing herself, do you? Could she have been after the stone herself?”

“Hard to say, but other than her quick success, nothing suggests it yet. My guess is that she and Reese have possibly jointly brokered other deals in the past. Perhaps when things fell through tonight, he knew she was in town, contacted her. Back-up plan, maybe.”

Felicity shook her head. “Possibly, but that still sounds too convenient. I still have to wonder if she wasn't here for the same purpose Reese was.”

“Then it stands to reason she'd have her own buyer. Maybe she was tracking Reese, too, knew he lost his buyer, then stepped in and offered some kind of split on the fee if he'd sell the piece to her client.”

Felicity's gaze sharpened. “Then that means she might know about us.”

Finn shrugged. “Possible, but since we didn't end up with the stone, we're not important to her. She was able to deal directly with Reese, give him a solution to his problem, so they're already on to the next step. I imagine we've been forgotten in the grand scheme of things.”

“If Julia is also working this, how is it she's never popped up on the radar?”

It occurred to Finn to wonder then how much research Felicity did when stalking her quarry, and how she went about doing it. He imagined the Foundation had all sorts of resources to check out potential donors as well as recipients. But how did she come to know about the quarry in the first place? She said she'd never bought anything from Reese. That didn't mean she couldn't have used him to find out what was available, then go after it herself. Hence the tea she'd invited him to her hotel room to share. Ostensibly for Foundation business, which she admitted they did share on occasion. Only this time it had backfired on her, and Reese had discovered her ulterior motives. Given the way he'd left her anyway. Finn wondered how much that might have truly compromised her. Now someone else knew about her alter ego, or at least suspected as much. Was that what he suspected she wasn't telling him? Was she afraid that Reese was going to publicly humiliate her? Or worse?