The Black Sheep and the English Rose (15 page)

Perhaps she was worried he was trying to do the same. That this whole thing had been a ruse on his part.

Instinctively reacting to that notion, he lifted his head and tugged hers closer, so he could kiss her. And not for a reassuring peck on the lips. He kissed her once, gently, but firmly, then again, more slowly, softly, until she finally unbent enough to relax against him slightly. “I know you have no reason to trust me,” he murmured against the side of her cheek, keeping her nestled closely, “but my intentions are sincere in this. I'm not playing you. I couldn't.”

She shifted, so that their noses bumped, before pulling back just enough to look at him, but not enough, he noticed, so that she wasn't still tucked under the crook of his arm, leg casually hooked over his. “Isn't that precisely what someone trying to play me would say?”

There was amusement in her tone, and in her eyes, but along with that humor was trepidation, whether she thought he could see it or not.

“You could have a point.” He rolled to his side, tipping her to her back, but keeping their legs entwined as he propped his head on his hand. “So, how do I prove to you that I mean what I say?”

“You don't,” she said. “I simply have to decide to trust you, or not. Then, time, I suppose, would tell, which is a commodity we don't really have.”

“Felicity—”

She pressed a finger across his lips. “I do believe you mean what you say. It's just…the rest of the situation we find ourselves in isn't exactly conducive to trust or foundation building.” She pressed her finger harder against his lips when he tried to interrupt. “Allow me to have my say.” He smiled against her finger, then pulled the tip between his teeth for a gentle nip. She slipped her finger free, but was smiling even as she admonished him. “Play fair.”

“I always do. But that doesn't mean I won't press my advantage when and where I can. I go after what I want, Felicity Jane.” He brushed a thumb over her cheek, pushed at the hair on her forehead.

Her eyes darkened, and he noted the light quiver of her chin as she took a steadying breath. “As do I,” she said, somewhat shakily. “What bothers me is how your sense of fair play is going to work once we're in San Francisco, when what we both want is a certain priceless gemstone. What do you do when presented with one want versus another?”

He rolled to his back and pulled her on top of him, making her squeal in surprise. He laughed, and kissed her soundly, then rolled her to her back and kissed her again. She was pushing at his shoulders, but she was laughing. And she was kissing him back. “Off me, beast,” she said, still laughing as he finally pulled away from her. “I call not fair using distraction techniques to avoid answering difficult questions.”

“You're right. All I can do is ask you to trust me. And to think, perhaps, a bit more broadly where solutions to problems are concerned.”

“We're hardly going to cut the gemstone in half.”

“Hardly,” he said, in a good imitation of her accent.

She swatted at him, but he was happy to see that humor was still the basis of her actions. Not that she wasn't still wary, but she was relaxed, playful, and willing to tackle the subject rather than simply pass judgment.

“Come here,” he said, pulling her back into his arms.

“You think I'll give it to you, don't you?” she asked, allowing him to tuck her under his arm again. He noted she settled far more naturally against him, her head resting easily on his shoulder this time. He wondered if she even realized it.

“I think no such thing. But I do think there is a possibility for an outcome to this that would satisfy us both.”

“You do, do you?”

He tipped up her chin and kissed her, gently but firmly, all playfulness gone. “Yes,” he said, lifting his head and looking into her eyes. “I do.”

“And what, pray tell, is your grand scheme?”

He started to tell her, when the plane hit an air pocket and quite suddenly dropped and jerked hard to the side. They clutched at each other and did their best not to roll to the floor. Before they could do much more than regroup and resettle, they hit another pocket, then another.

“Well,” Finn said, holding her tightly against him and trying to brace them both in the center of the bed, “this could have been really interesting if it had come about twenty minutes earlier.”

“Indeed,” she said, then clung to him again when the plane shook once more.

Captain Steve's voice came over the intercom next to the door. “I suppose it goes without saying that we've run into a bit of turbulence. Might be a good idea to strap yourselves back into your seats. I'll give you an all clear as soon as I can get us out of this. Shouldn't be longer than fifteen, twenty minutes.”

Finn looked at Felicity, then scanned the small bedroom to where their clothes were scattered literally everywhere. “I'm not sure which is more dangerous, staying here and holding on for dear life, or trying to get dressed so we can go out to our seats in the main cabin.”

The plane dipped again, and her nails dug into his arms. “You have a point.”

He pinned her to the bed, grinning. “Well, I could, if we had a little bit more time.”

“Very amusing,” she said, but didn't push him off of her. Probably because the weight of him would keep her in place. “What do we do?”

“We could wrap ourselves in the sheets, toga style.”

“I'm not going toga style in front of Captain Steve, regardless that I'm quite certain he didn't think we were back here playing gin rummy. I don't care which team he plays for.”

“Okay, okay. Follow me,” he said as another idea formed. He slid from the bed to the floor, then shifted around so his back was to the wall by the door and braced his feet against the bolted frame of the bed. He reached out his hand to her. “Come on.”

She was lying flat on her stomach, clutching at the bedspread. “I'm afraid my legs won't reach from there to—”

He wiggled his fingers. “Grab a hold.”

She did, just as the plane rocked again, sending her off the bed and sprawled across his lap with a bit more force than he'd expected.

“Sorry,” she said as he grunted on impact.

“Don't,” he said as she tried to scramble off of him. “Come here. Turn around.”

“Finn, this is hardly the time for some kinky new position—”

“I know, but keep it in mind, will you?” He gripped her hips and turned her so she straddled his lap, facing away from him. “I'll hold you, and you lean over and drag our clothes over here. I'll brace you while you dress. I can stay braced between the wall and the frame of the bed.”

“What about you?”

He grinned. “I'll be okay. Just—” He groaned a little as she leaned forward to reach for her dress and bra, which had the unfortunate—at least at the moment—result of pressing her backside snugly against his belly, and the rest of her…He tried not to think about it, or he'd never get his pants on again. “Grab it,” he managed, sighing in relief when she snagged her dress. The bra remained out of reach.

“This will do for now,” she assured him. “But how do I get from here to the main cabin? Crawl?”

The plane jerked and dipped again, making him clutch her tightly against his chest. “You know,” he whispered in her ear, “if there was even a little predictability to this, it could be fun.”

She snorted at that, but didn't refute it, then dragged her dress on and began buttoning it as fast as she could, before the plane took yet another short drop. But she also wiggled her hips a little on purpose as she slid it down over her body, and he heard the little laugh when he bucked instinctively against her.

“You just wait,” he warned her. “Keep playing.”

“And you'll what?” she tossed back over her shoulder.

The plane rocked. He held her against his chest and cupped her breasts with his palms, through her dress. “I'll think of something, I'm sure.”

She gasped, and swayed just a little, and he wished like hell Steve would call the all clear. They didn't have much time, and he knew he still needed to check in to see what Rafe might have dug up, as well as form a more specific plan for after they landed. He wondered what would have happened if he'd been able to keep Felicity here longer, if they could just fly in circles, where there was no chance of her leaving in the middle of the night, where she'd have to confront what was developing between them. And though it had been explosive sex, just as it had been before, there were nuances now, complexities, things that hadn't colored their time together in the past. And he was quite certain he wasn't the only one who felt that way.

“Okay, let me go, so you can get your pants.”

He didn't want to let her go. He wanted—

“I think we're through the worst of it, folks,” came Steve's cheerful voice through the intercom. “Sorry for the inconvenience. Might still be a good idea to strap in, though. With the new flight plan, we should be in San Francisco in approximately one hour, possibly a few minutes less. I'll keep you informed.”

You do that
, Finn thought, irrationally disgruntled by the news. For the first time, the job held little appeal.

Felicity slid from his lap and quickly gathered the rest of her belongings, tossing his clothes to him as she got to them.

“Thanks,” he said, which made her smile. “What's amusing?”

“You sound like you've lost your favorite toy.” She tossed his shoe to him. “And if you follow that with a crack that involves me in any way, I'll take even greater care with where I aim this other shoe.” She smiled as she wiggled it next to her head.

Why can't it be like this?
he wanted to know. With them laughing together, playing together, and then working together?

He pulled on his clothes as he watched Felicity make an effort to smooth and tame her now wildly tangled hair. Why couldn't she see that it could, indeed, work between them? At least worthy of a try, anyway. Wouldn't she favor using her well-honed skills for the good of others? He was well aware she performed altruistically through her foundation, and that working with him legitimately wouldn't garner the thrills she got from operating on the other side of the law, or right on the fringe of it, at the very least. But many, if not most, of his missions required a great amount of skill, and cunning, to devise just the right plot to win the day. He did a bit of edge walking himself. He and his partners very specifically took on the types of situations that would otherwise be considered hopeless. Righting wrongs, skating along on the finer points of the law, along with exploiting a few loopholes, in order to see that the good guys won.

If he presented it to her in just the right way, maybe she'd see that there was fun and excitement to be found in his pursuits. She just couldn't keep the spoils afterward. Surely, with her wealth, that wasn't the point anyway.

He watched as she carefully, and seemingly effortlessly, transformed herself back into the proper British lady who spent her days writing checks to charities and her nights at this soiree or that ball. He knew otherwise. He knew what she was like beneath all that. Earthy and vulnerable. Cunning, with a need for excitement. And he didn't want to rid her of that, as her complexity was a large part of what attracted him to her.

All he had to do was figure out how to combine the best of both…and then convince her to share it all with him.

F
elicity buckled her seat belt and prepared herself for landing. If only she could as easily prepare herself for what was going to happen after that. Her head told her to make a clean break of it as soon as possible and go back to working as she always did: solo. Her heart wasn't as clear on the matter.

She tried telling herself that what happened back in the bedroom wasn't anything that hadn't happened between them before. It had been every bit as explosive as it had always been, he'd pushed her to places no one else did, but, at the end of it, nothing had changed.

So what if he'd made an effort to be emotionally intimate after their physical urges were sated. He wanted what he wanted. And, yes, it had been somewhat surprising how easy he'd made it to slip into the role of lover and friend, not just sex partner. But just because she had let her guard down a little, enjoyed herself some, didn't mean she had to change her course of action. Nor should she.

She looked out the window and tried to ignore the sounds of Finn clicking himself into his seat. Images of his body, how he'd looked, felt, tasted, laughed, smiled, kissed…were still too potent, too close. She needed to clear her head and erase those images. For now anyway. She knew she'd trot them out later and examine them more fully. Dream about them, most likely, if the past was anything to go by. Repeatedly.

He'd sat where he had before, on the opposite side of the plane, for which she was grateful. She needed a chance to regroup. Still, she couldn't help but wonder at the tactic, telling herself it was that and not disappointment that had her analyzing the decision. He said he wanted more from her and had made no effort to hide his determination to succeed in his quest to win her over. He had to know he'd gotten her to lower her defenses, especially afterward, before the turbulence had hit them. So why allow her the chance to rebuild those defenses now? Especially when they were so close to landing. From a strategy standpoint, it made no sense.

No matter what his agenda was, whether it was truly to woo her rather than merely seduce her, or whether there really was some elaborate plan in place to keep her close as a means to secure his success in the mission, allowing her any time to build and execute her own strategy wasn't going to help his cause.

And Finn was no dummy when it came to mounting a good offense. Which could only make her wonder what he was up to with all this space he was suddenly giving her. Damn the man for not being more predictable, anyway.

She glanced over to find him tapping on the screen of his satellite unit.

“Any new information?” she asked, wanting to sound like the professional she was, and not the daft girl who was trying too hard at pretending she wasn't interested in the cute boy.

“Not as much as I'd like.” He glanced over at her and immediately smiled. “So serious.”

“We have serious work to do,” she replied, determined to keep her game face in place if it killed her. It was her only hope at the moment, especially considering she was currently imagining him naked, while also trying to ignore the renewed ache growing inside her as her thoughts strayed to the bedroom in the back of the plane. And that plastic shopping bag of goodies that he'd left behind. Damn the man for that, too. And the flight for not being a wee bit longer. And less turbulent. On several levels. It was rare she got to have fun. She needed more fun. Finn was fun. A shame she couldn't have more of that part of him without risking the rest.

She swallowed a sigh and crossed her legs. “So, what have we learned?”

Finn held her gaze for a moment too long, a moment that told her he was probably reading every last thought in her mind. At least he had the grace not to look overly amused. “We can't seem to find any evidence of a past liaison of any kind between Julia and Reese, business or pleasure.”

“Maybe they're both just adept at maintaining their privacy. I doubt they just hooked up and he offered to give her a ride home in his plane.”

“Me, either. I'm just saying that if they've done business before, personal or professional, there's no record of it and no one is talking about it.”

“Do we know more about her business practices? Was your partner able to line up any of her trips or shipments to clients with known black market trade activity?”

Finn frowned then, as if something had just occurred to him, but when he went on, she had a feeling that it wasn't about whatever revelation had just taken place. “She does travel, but it's on gallery business, as far as her documented activities. Not much information on how she spends her personal time.”

In opulent hotel bathrooms sipping very expensive champagne, Felicity thought, and not entirely kindly, though she certainly had no platform from which to pass judgment. “And her trips don't sync with other activities in the same location? What about shipping schedules?”

“Not directly, no. But if she's playing middle man, there might not be such a direct correlation. And not enough time yet to line up shipping manifests with known black market activities.”

“Do you still think that's the link?”

Finn lifted his shoulder. “It makes the most sense. It doesn't explain how she happened to be in New York right when Reese needed her, but it might explain what services she could provide.”

“Getting the sapphire out of the country in one of her art shipments, so it can be safely delivered to whomever John is selling it to, you mean?”

“It plays.”

“But there's still that initial coincidence.” Felicity took a moment to analyze the situation. “And I'll bite that maybe it's just that. Or maybe they have a personal relationship they've managed to keep hush hush and set it up to meet there if their paths were otherwise crossing.”

“It makes just as much sense as any other explanation.”

She looked over at him. His clothes were rumpled, his hair a bit of a tousled mess, and he had a hint of beard stubble lightly shadowing his jaw now. She'd seen him in a tux, she knew how well he cleaned up, but this was the real Finn. So different from her, so different from the men she knew and socialized with. Ironic, given his silver spoon background. “So…beyond that, where do we begin? Do we look at her clients for potential buyers? Do we look at her shipping schedule? Do we try and track Reese's actions?”

“Well, we could try and track down Reese himself, but I'm doubting he's keeping any kind of public profile at this point. Besides, I had Rafe dig more on him, and, as it happens, he doesn't appear to spend any time in San Francisco, so no known favorite restaurants or hotels.”

“Odd for a man having a liaison with a woman who lives there.”

“Unless the reason there are no favorite hotels popping up is because he has private digs.”

“Meaning Julia's.”

“Yes. And we could dig there, too, see if anyone has seen him there, but that will take time we don't have. It's best if we just assume there is a partnership both professional and personal, and focus on the stone.”

“First up?”

“Target the whereabouts of her best clients, see who is in town, who might be up for a late night or early morning meeting. In case it's just a direct sale and we're making it too complicated.”

“And second?”

“Shipping. Find out where she ships from, watch the area for activity in case she is going to package the gem and conceal it with artwork.”

“So…it might not be a bad idea to divide and conquer.” She watched him carefully for his reaction.

He looked at her, expressionless. “And?”

“You track clients and any potential meeting sites. I'll watch the shipping dock.”

He didn't respond right away, but went back to tapping on his iPhone when it beeped. “It's not a bad plan,” he said at length, still keeping his gaze averted.

“But?”

He glanced up, his expression still unreadable. She wouldn't have thought him capable of such a good poker face. “But nothing. We still have a short time to gather information before landing. If nothing else comes in to steer us in a more concrete direction, then we'll follow your plan.”

She stared at him, until he finally said, “What?”

“You're okay with us splitting up?”

“I don't see where we have a choice. It would be foolish not to tackle as many avenues as we can. Time is critical.”

“And if one of us tracks the stone down?”

Finn smiled then, and she was gratified to see that the smile reached his eyes. “I would hope whichever one of us that is would contact the other, and we'd figure out together how best to retrieve it.”

And then what?
she wanted to ask, but knew better. “What if waiting means losing the opportunity?”

“Then do what has to be done.”

She leaned back and folded her arms. “You don't seem too concerned that I'm going to take off with the stone if I get it first.”

Captain Steve interrupted, announcing that landing was imminent.

Finn shifted back in his seat, but she stayed turned toward him, until finally he looked back at her. “I guess I'm not.”

“You guess? Why would you think that? We've both certainly proven what we're capable of when we want something the other one also wants.”

“I know. But it's different this time.”

“How?” She lifted a hand to stall his response. “I mean, I know you think we should embark on a personal relationship, but, clearly, if I run off with our quarry, I would assume your personal interest in me would wane somewhat.”

“Last time you took off, I let you.”

She bristled at that, but didn't engage him in that battle. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I didn't follow.” He shifted so he faced forward as the plane's thrusters kicked in, making conversation difficult over the rushing roar of sound.

“It wouldn't have done any good,” she said, shouting to be heard over the engines, not sure why she was bothering with the argument. He was going to do whatever he thought he should do, no matter what she said, but it irked her that he thought that by not chasing her in Bogota, he'd let her win the prize.

“Maybe not where those diamonds were concerned,” he said, looking back over at her. “But it might have kept me from spending the past three-plus years wondering about you.”

She'd already opened her mouth to respond, all geared to argue her point, when what he said sank in. “But you take your work very seriously,” she said, frowning. “You left me in Prague.”

“Yes, I do. And yes, I did. What does that have to do with me pursuing you now?”

“You'd have me believe that you'd put your personal needs before your professional ones?”

“I would, depending on the situation. Family, friends always come first with me.”

“I don't mean in choosing career over family or friends, or taking on a certain job if you had other things that were pressing for your attention. I mean, if you were currently on a job, and there was a personal conflict of interest, you'd do what you wanted for yourself, even if it meant failing your client.”

“Why do you think I'd have to make that choice?”

She shifted to look more fully at him, grabbing the arms of her chair as the plane touched down on the runway and gave them a good bounce. “If you had the choice of getting your hands on that sapphire, or keeping track of me, pursuing me, you know you'd take the stone.”

Finn just grinned. “I'm thinking if I play this right, I could get both.”

Felicity remembered then, right before the turbulence hit, he'd been about to tell her his grand plan for making them both satisfied with one stone between them. She couldn't see how that could be, and she should be turned off by his confidence in the matter, but there was something so charming about that smile, that twinkle in his eye…Damn the man anyway. “Did it occur to you that I might be a bit put out if you take what I feel is rightfully mine? I didn't come all the way over here to go home empty-handed.”

Finn's grin grew even wider, if that was possible. “Oh, I don't intend for you to be empty-handed at all.”

Her frustration seemed to only fuel his amusement. “Fine, if you're not going to take this seriously, I certainly don't see why I should even bother discussing it with you. All I'll say is this: don't be too sure of yourself. You say you want it all. Well, best keep in mind that what I want is to go home with what I came here for. Despite your claims to the contrary, I'm quite certain, barring there being two priceless Byzantine sapphires up for grabs, that it's not possible for us both to have what we want here. Even if my personal desires were in line with yours, which is ground I believe we've also previously covered.”

The plane rolled to a stop, then slowly taxied around to its gate. Finn waited until it came to a full stop, then unbuckled his seat belt, stood, and stretched. He stepped over and offered Felicity his hand. She looked at it dubiously, and then even more warily up at him.