To Catch a Thief (16 page)

“I didn't hear his car, and I've been working most of the night. He said it might be midday before he finished.” Her head tilted. “You've got blood on your hand.”

Dakota was surprised to see that she was right. “Must have done it when I braked to avoid you.” He dismissed the scrapes after one quick glance. In the overall picture of his life, a few cuts and bruises were a no-show. “It's nothing that matters.”

“Everything matters.” She frowned at him, still holding the robe awkwardly. “Go take care of those cuts first,” she said. “If you get sick, you're no good to me or anyone, Lieutenant.”

Dakota almost smiled at the snap in her voice.

Almost.

“Meet me in Draycott's study in ten minutes.” He made his voice as cool as he could. The way he saw it, he was doing them both a favor. Nothing good could come out of this awareness that had dogged him since the moment he'd seen her walk out of a Scottish snowstorm, with a rope slung around her shoulder.

He tossed a thick envelope down on the dresser beside her. “Bring those photos along, after you've had a look.”

“Exactly what am I looking
for
?” She was still icy, still angry, her fingers gripping the heavy robe.

“Best route of ascent. Call it extreme climbing school.”

“What are you talking about?”

“School's in session, Nell. You've got twenty-four hours to teach me how to free-climb a seventy-foot limestone wall and reach a crenellated tower.” He smiled tightly. “At night. With armed guards in constant rotation. And without being seen, of course.”

Nell simply stared at him.

T
HE MAN WAS
over-the-edge crazy.

“Arrogant as well as crazy,” Nell muttered as she saw him run through the rain and lean down to inspect his motorcycle on the drive.

Her leg burned, her ankle throbbed. She was tired from making lists and tired from fighting the demons of her memories. If she'd had a little more time, she might have found some degree of peace. Then Dakota had stormed out of the night, gorgeous and angry and tired, with a hard set to his jaw that hadn't been there the last time she'd seen him in San Francisco.

She'd heard the worry and guilt in his voice when he insisted on carrying her over the gravel driveway. Then had come anger. And finally the anger had faded to hunger, stark and wordless. She hadn't missed the moment. He'd wanted her.

And desire was the last thing she had expected to see in a man who was always contained and controlled.

Nell accepted that men stared at her, studied her legs and made reasons to brush against her in crowded rooms. But then they moved on as fast as they could. Nell didn't know how to be coy. She didn't lure and tease, giving out the clever signals that meant she was interested and available.

Because she
wasn't
available, not on any level. When she was young, Nell had thought that if she fell in love, it would happen in a blinding moment of instinct, without words or games. But the moment had never come. When she realized that love was just another form of leaning, she gave up waiting.

As she unbuttoned her blouse, beads of water ran down her chest. She realized that the damp cotton was nearly transparent from the rain. Dakota would have seen right through her wet shirt and thin silk camisole to her breasts.

They were tight and exquisitely sensitive. Nell had never felt more alive or gripped by desire.

All because of the simple slide of Dakota's hands and the haunted look in his eyes.

She blew out a shaky breath, trying to forget the careful way he'd cleaned her jagged cuts, then stroked her leg, almost as if he didn't realize what he was doing.

She closed her eyes.

Stupid to feel this way.

Stupid to want more, to feel her body coming alive under the brush of his callused fingers. She didn't
want
to be alive that way again.

She shivered as she stripped off her damp clothes. Once she stopped expecting to find one great love, she had settled for an occasional fling, sometimes with a climber, once with an artist whose hands had been careful and experienced. Each time when it was over, Nell had felt cold and empty.

It had been a long time since she'd looked at a man and felt the sharp, blind stir of awareness. She had accepted the loss, even been grateful for it since her life was complicated enough. But tonight in the rain Nell had felt the unmistakable stab of desire return.

She felt it again now, remembering the hunger that had swept his face before he locked the emotion away.

Impossible. They were almost strangers.

Nell jammed a hand through her hair, muttering angrily. Now on top of everything else, she was supposed to give him a crash course in free-climbing?

Okay, he had a deal. If he wanted climbing school, she'd give him climbing school. If he wanted speed, she'd teach him speed. To protect her father, she would do whatever he asked. She'd work him right to the edge, teaching him every trick and move she knew.

She took a quick glance at the photos in the envelope. Limestone walls, just the way he'd said. Weathered towers with stone turrets wrapped in gray mist.

Was her father in that castle along with the stolen art?

Focus.

Nell blew out a breath. It would be a dangerous climb unless all the masonry was stable, which was unlikely in a structure that old. Getting Dakota up safely and fast without ropes or fixed anchors would be a problem.

Distracted by the challenge, she combed her hair and tossed on the first clothes she could find. She had the outline of a plan by the time she reached the viscount's study. Her hair was still damp, her shirt was untucked and she didn't take time to look for socks.

No doubt Dakota wouldn't even notice.

N
ELL ARRIVED
looking breathless, and she wasn't wearing socks.

Dakota slanted her a look. She was four minutes early, but her hair was still damp. He'd have to remember to get a towel from the butler. He couldn't afford for her to be slowed down by a cold.

Because she was too important to the mission. Not for any personal reason.

“There's tea on the sideboard. The butler—I believe he said his name was Marston—just brought some. Drink it while we work.”

“Not necessary. Show me what we have to do.” All business, she shoved wet hair out of her face with a quick, graceful movement that did something odd to Dakota's throat.

Strength with grace. A mesmerizing combination.

He pointed at the twenty photos lined up on the long oak table. “Those are current exterior shots of the castle in question. I also have copies of the most recent blueprints.”

“Where is it located?”

“You don't need to know that. In fact the fewer details you know, the safer it is.” He saw her eyes narrow. “Safer for you and safer for your father, Nell.”

She crossed her arms. “I still need to know general location. Is it cold? Will there be rain? What kind of visibility can you expect?”

Smart, he thought. She was asking the right questions. “I'll get you an exact weather forecast shortly. For now, let's focus on the structure. This is a twelfth century fortified castle with moat, towers and battlements. Extensive additions were made under Edward II. Good for them, bad for us.”

Nell nodded. “Because they knew how to plan for extended sieges back then.”

“Fortified or not, we're breaking in.”

“We? I'm going too?” Her voice sharpened.

“Not you. Too dangerous for a civilian. I need you to help me find the fastest route that will offer some cover.”

“Oh.” The crazy woman actually sounded
disappointed
.

“This isn't a nice, quiet peak in France, Nell. The place will be lousy with private security. Each of those men will be carrying serious firepower, and they will be motivated to use it against any intruder.” He studied the photos. “That would be me.”

Her eyes darkened. “In that case, you'll have to be fast but silent. Work the corners.” She leaned over the table, checking the line of photos, chewing her bottom lip as she studied each one. “Chimney here. Nice crack, nothing off-width. Perfect.”

As she spoke, she worked a hand through her hair, twisting the back out in wild spikes. Restless. Thinking with her whole body.

Dakota could almost see the synapses firing at full force.

“This one could work. A nice jam. Then if you smear over here….”

Dakota looked at the photos, then looked back at Nell, waiting.

She fanned out three photos. “This is a crimp you could use.” Abruptly, she tossed the photos back onto the table. “I can't
do
it.”

“You have to do it. Or is it me you won't work with?” Dakota reined in his irritation. “If so—”

“It's not
you
.” She shoved the photos toward him with one hand. “It's these. If I'm going to send you up a vertical face, you need fixed anchors. Climbing gear.”

“No ropes, Nell. Nothing they can see. It's just me and the wall.”

“I figured you'd be difficult like that.” She rubbed her neck, looking impatient. “Fine, we'll work out a route for a free climb. But to do that, I need more details. I need to know the exact location of every lip, overhang and pocket. I want the precise width of any cracks, because you're going to need every possible hand-and foothold if you plan to get up this face without a rope.”

He studied the photos and realized she was absolutely right. While they were clear, they gave too little detail for the kind of route she had to map out. “I'll get Izzy right on it.”

“The Denzel look-alike, you mean? Is he good with research details?”

“So I'm told,” Dakota said.

The understatement of the century
.

“Can he get me something with more depth? Tell him I also need to know the composition of the surface stone and masonry. That will give me an idea how much deterioration to expect from your weight.” She glanced over her shoulder. “What is your weight, by the way? And exact height. I want all your measurements, legs, feet, arms and also the length from finger to wrist and across the palm.”

Oh, yeah, she was smart.
“I'll write them down.”

But she was already onto something else. “Don't forget I need updated weather forecasts.” She leaned across the table, pulling two photos from the pile. “And it so happens that you're in luck. I climbed a castle like this once, during a commercial for a new line of whisky. My climbing partner, Eric, was supposed to go that day, but at the last minute they wanted a woman.” She yawned, stretching a little. “I must have climbed that blasted wall fifty times. No ropes.” She studied her palms, frowning as if the memory wasn't entirely pleasant. “Cut the heck out of my hands.”

He could imagine Nell, fast and nimble, dancing across the stones, the sea wind on her shoulders.

One day he was going to track down that commercial, Dakota vowed.

Purely for curiosity's sake.

But first he was going to feed her. He put a plate of scones and a cup of tea on the nearest table as she scanned a set of blueprints. “Have some of this.”

“What—oh, thanks.” Absently, she took a sip of tea and studied the castle layout. “With luck, you can work up this arrow loop and use the top ledge for a foothold. If the surface stone is stable, you could jam here and then go straight into a right traverse.” She was talking to herself, studying the photos as she pulled at the air.

Walking her way through the climb, he realized, every movement quick and graceful. This was how she had won third place at Chamonix, free climbing in the Alps.

Dakota watched her reach out with one hand, then edge her foot along the bottom of the table, shoving her fist into an imaginary crack and pulling upward.

“I think I've got it.” A quick pull sideways, arm over arm, and then a blinding smile of happiness. “Yeah. This should work.”

Amazing, he thought. Her hair was tangled, her eyes edged with dark circles, and all he saw was her energy as she danced from foot to foot.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Watching me. You're doing it again.”

“You take my breath away,” he said simply.

He noted the flush of heat, the self-conscious shrug. Wasn't she used to hearing compliments? How was that possible?

“I—I don't know what you mean.” She turned, suddenly stiff, the excitement gone. “And…I need to think. There are a lot more details to work out.”

No more compliments, Dakota thought. Not if they bothered her so much. But eventually he would find out why.

Marston appeared out in the hall, carrying silverware and a hot platter covered with foil. Dakota took everything and closed the door, so she would have no interruptions.

She was moving again, her back turned as she pantomimed the route.

Dakota realized that she was free when she climbed. It wasn't the adrenaline or the danger that held her, as he'd first thought, but the sense of being away from the ground and completely unfettered. One small piece of Nell MacInnes fell into place as he watched her turn smoothly and wriggle as if she were climbing through a narrow space.

He'd know all there was to know about her before they were done. And if there was a way up the wall, she would find it.

F
IFTEEN MINUTES LATER
,
after some muttering and a few whispered curses, Nell spun around, her eyes shimmering with excitement. “I think I've found a way to get you in.”

“That's good news.” Dakota put a plate of eggs into her hand. Three cups of tea weren't about to get her through the strenuous afternoon and evening he had planned. “Eat. Then you can give me the details.”

“Not hungry. I really don't want—”

“Everything matters, remember?” She was running on empty, too restless, too edgy. If the situation were different, he would have massaged her shoulders to settle her down a bit. But touching her wasn't a good idea. He was smart enough to face that fact. “You need energy or you'll burn out by noon.”

“You think?” Her head tilted and she smiled just a little. “Don't go being nice to me, Navy. You'll spoil that hard-ass image you like so much.”

Her smile warmed him. Warmed him too much.

Dakota handed her another plate. “Marston made cinnamon scones, and there are fresh strawberries and clotted cream.”

Nell took a bite of eggs and then some of a scone, closing her eyes on a low sigh. “Remind me to get a butler when I win the lottery, will you?” She leaned to one side, rubbing her lower back absently and wincing a little.

She must have hurt herself there, when she'd fallen.

“What's wrong?”

“Just a little stiff. Nothing major.” She winced again.

Quietly, Dakota moved behind her. “Let me do that for you.”

“Do what?” Nell stiffened as his hand opened over the small of her back.

“I'm making the tension go away, so you can focus better.” His eyes glinted. “As a very wise person once told me, everything matters.”

“A compliment?” Her breath caught as he kneaded the knot of tension in her back.

“Let's call it an acknowledgment of superior field awareness. Everything does matter. I'm glad you pointed it out.”

Her eyes closed as he worked carefully. For a moment, just a moment, she sagged, leaning back into his hands, her hair soft against his chest, and Dakota caught a hint of the elusive lavender perfume she used.

And then she was Nell again, stiff and stubborn and prickly. She caught a short breath, then stood up. He watched her dig her fingers into her hair and twist it into even greater disorder.

The woman never relaxed. She didn't take care of herself very well, either. He was going to do something about both things before the day was over. “Finish your tea and finish the scone. You'll need the fuel to work.”

With a little shrug, she drank some tea, ate more of the scone. “By the way, why ‘Dakota'?”

“My parents' home state. But I grew up in the high pines along the northern California coast, in beautiful country.”

Nell put her set of photos on the table. “I've never been there.”

“You should go someday. Every trail is worth hiking.”

Something hung between them, fragile and new, whispering of promises too vague to hold.

Then a phone rang in the back of the house, just as Nicholas Draycott's Mini Cooper purred up the driveway. Whatever had been forming vanished.

Nell cleared her throat. “About the climb.”

Back to business
.

That was fine with him, Dakota thought irritably. What else was there? “Let's hear it.”

“Something has been bothering me.” Nell gnawed at her lip. Her sleeves were pushed up above her elbows. Streaks of ballpoint ink ran along her wrists as she braced her elbows on the table. “Here.” She carefully overlaid the blueprints with photographs, each in corresponding position.

“There's a problem.” She turned, staring at his thighs. “I don't know if you're big enough.”

“Big enough?” Dakota raised an eyebrow as she continued to look thoughtfully at his thighs. “You want to explain that?”

Nell was already back at the table, her shoulders hunched over the blueprints.

Dakota was a soldier, but he was also a man, and he wasn't going to have his…anatomy dismissed. Irritated, he leaned over her shoulder, his thighs next to hers. “What's size got to do with it? Experience is what counts.”

If there was a smoky, sensual tone to his words, Nell didn't seem to notice.
That
irritated him, too.

“I'm talking about your legs.”

As if that explained it.

“Maybe you should try spelling it out.”

“The horizontal area here on the facade. You see?”

“I see.” Dakota studied the blueprint, catching a hint of her perfume. A hint of cinnamon mixed with lavender and peaches. He cleared his throat, feeling a little dizzy.

A little seduced.

Nothing that he couldn't handle. “What's the problem?”

“You'll have to make a long reach here above the arrow loops, and your legs may not be long enough, if my estimates are right.” She was still frowning at the photos. “I need more information. When will your contact have more high-resolution photos for me?”