On the Prowl Page 4
As she walked in the shop, though, she saw that Arthur was busy helping a customer. Her nerves were frayed but she meandered about casually, pretending to look at the pieces he had on show.
Nerves made her stomach roll. How, exactly, was she supposed to go about this? She’d never tried to get rid of a stolen piece before. She didn’t even know where to start.
“Talia,” Arthur said when he saw her. “What a surprise. Come join us. Have you heard the big news?”
She made her way across the room uneasily. “What big news?”
“The Harringtons were robbed last night. This is Detective Riley Kinkade. He’s working the case.”
Talia’s systems began shutting down one right after the other. First, her air caught in her lungs. Then her heart lurched to a stop. Her muscles went lax and she nearly dropped the briefcase. “Robbed?” she said in a quiet voice.
Kinkade. Detective. Case. Her eyes slowly turned on the man who’d been standing so quietly to the side. Her gaze caught him at shoulder level. Nearly frozen with trepidation, she forced herself to look up into his face. Dark brown eyes looked at her contemplatively.
“Talia Sizemore?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“You’re next on my list.”
List? She was on the list already? Reflex made her take a step back.
She never knew what happened next. She either caught a heel on the Oriental rug at her feet or her knees gave out. Whichever, she went flying backwards.
“Whoa!”
The detective had the reflexes of a tiger. Moving swiftly, he caught her about the waist. Her free hand latched onto his shoulder and, for the briefest of seconds, time stood still.
His dark gaze locked with her amber one and Talia felt him looking right into her soul.
He knew, she thought frantically. He could see.
Their bodies were sealed together from chest to knee, and she fought back her panic. There was no escaping now. His muscles felt like hot steel under her touch. His stomach molded against hers and a rock-hard thigh had slipped between her legs. As she clung to him helplessly, she felt another part of his body stiffen against her hip.
Her eyes widened and he let out a soft curse.
“Are you okay?” he asked, slowly bringing her upright.
No, she wasn’t okay! Danger signs flashed inside her head. She was not okay.
“Ma’am?” he said again.
“I’m fine. Just clumsy.” She tried to take a step back, but winced at the sharp pain in her ankle.
His hands at her waist stopped her. “Let me take a look.”
Before she could clear her thoughts, he crouched down in front of her. His hand slid down her calf toward her ankle and a wild exhilaration ricocheted through her. Looking down, all she saw was the top of his head. A reckless part of her wanted to thread her fingers through his thick, brown hair and hold tight.
“I’m sorry, Talia. I should move that rug,” Arthur said. “I keep tripping over it myself.”
Her head snapped to the side. She’d forgotten there was anybody else in the room! “It wasn’t the rug. It was my fault. Don’t worry. I’m fi—”
Her words broke off sharply when the detective slid her shoe off her foot. The action felt as seductive as if he’d just slipped off her panties. She was thrown by her reaction but that didn’t lessen it in the least. Her knees went weak again and she reached out to brace herself against the man’s shoulders.
His gaze slid up her body slowly and she suddenly realized how short her skirt was. If he leaned only a few inches forward, his face would be in her crotch.
“How’s that feel?” he asked.
“What?” she said in a haze.
“Your ankle,” he said with the hint of a smile on his lips. “Does this hurt?”
He pressed against the soft tissue on her inner foot. The touch should have been impersonal but zaps of electricity shot right up her leg to her core. Talia felt her pussy twinge. “No, no pain,” she said unevenly.
“How about that?” His fingers deftly touched her anklebone.
She pressed her lips together. She tried to pull her foot away but he glanced at her and she stopped. She couldn’t afford to raise his suspicions.
Watching her closely, he slid his thumb to the bottom of her foot and pressed firmly against her arch. Oh, God! Her fingers tightened reflexively on his shoulders as arousal hit her hard. He might have missed the small sign but there was no way he could miss the curling of her toes.
“Everything looks good down here,” he said, clearing his throat.
He slid the shoe back on her foot and slowly stood up. She thought she heard him say “real good” under his breath but she couldn’t be sure. She’d already taken two steps back.
The man was dangerous.
“What were you saying about a list, Detective?” she asked hastily. Daddy had always taught her that the best defense was a good offense. At least in business. She hoped it was the same for crime.
He watched the wild gesture she made with interest and she forced her hand to drop limply at her side. His eyes glittered. “You were on the guest list for the Harrington’s party. I’m talking to everyone who attended.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t a suspect. Relief ran through her but she knew better than to let her guard down. Carefully, she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. His observant gaze took in the move and she felt unsettled again. The man had the instincts of a hunter. “I attended the party but I didn’t notice anything unusual. Then again, I left early.”
“Why was that?”
“I wasn’t feeling well.” It was the truth. She’d felt sick when she’d left the Harrington mansion and she felt even worse now. The dark circles she knew were under her eyes bore that out. She was particularly conscious of them with him staring at her so hard.
“Sorry to hear that,” he said softly. “Since you haven’t heard, the Harringtons noticed early this morning that an art piece they had on display at the party is missing.”
“Really?” she said with just the right amount of shock. “Can I ask which one?”
“A bronzed cat. Something called an animali-er.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a picture.
“It’s pronounced animali-ae,” she said politely. She forced her expression to remain calm as she looked at the photograph. The cat’s eyes glared at her accusingly and her grip on her briefcase suddenly became sweaty. “I remember that. It’s a very nice piece.”
“The detective here was just asking if anybody had brought it into my shop today,” Arthur said. “Anything like that come into yours?”
Talia felt faint. Thank God she hadn’t gotten here fifteen minutes earlier. She adjusted her hold on the suddenly slippery handle. What if she’d shown the cat to Arthur before Kinkade had gotten here? She’d probably be in handcuffs right now. “No,” she said feebly. “I would remember something like that.”
“Why don’t you set this down?” the detective said. From out of the blue, he reached for her briefcase. “You look like you’re still a little shaky.”
“No! That’s okay. Really.”
She tried to pull back but he was quick.
“Good God, woman,” he said when he took on its weight. “What are you carrying in there?”
She smiled weakly as he set the briefcase on the counter. She didn’t have to fake it anymore. She was beginning to feel truly nauseous. “Rocks. Anyway, that’s what my associate always tells me.”
One of his eyebrows lifted.
“Shelli must be very upset,” she said, trying to change the subject. His scrutiny was just too intense. She wiped her damp palms on her skirt and his gaze finally dropped from her face to her legs.
That wasn’t any better. A familiar tingle began low in Talia’s abdomen. The power of the attraction she had for this man scared her. She felt like a moth being inexorably drawn to the flame.
“I’d say that Mrs. Harrington is more offended than upset,” the det
ective said distractedly. He was still staring at her legs. “She hates that her party was spoiled.”
“Yes, well, Shelli is a consummate hostess. I’m sure that the entire experience has been quite distressing to her.” Talia couldn’t take it anymore. The man had her nerves stretched to the breaking point. Her body was reacting on all cylinders and she had to put this ridiculous mating dance to a stop. He was a detective and, like it or not, she was his target.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help, Detective, but I really need to get back to my shop.” Trying to be casual, she reached for her briefcase. She gave it a firm tug and was relieved to feel the strain on her arm. “Good-bye, Arthur.”
“Did you want something, Talia?” he asked. “You don’t usually drop by in the middle of the day.”
For a moment, her mind went blank. “I was in the area and I thought I’d just drop by to say hello.”
“Oh, I wish you could stay a bit longer. A beautiful English tea set just came in. You’d love it.”
“Maybe some other time.”
“When exactly would be a good time, Ms. Sizemore?” the detective asked.
She looked at him sharply.
“I’m sure I’ll have more questions for you.”
It was funny how he could say so much more with his eyes.
Talia felt a tickle in her belly. It was attraction and fear all mixed up together. How in God’s name had she gotten herself into this mess? “I’m sure it would be a waste of your time.”
“You never know,” he said softly.
Her insides began to quiver. She couldn’t hold onto this façade much longer. “Then feel free to drop by my shop.”
“I will.”
Fear finally won out. She nodded mutely and spun on her heel. She walked quickly to the door but she could feel his stare on the middle of her back the entire way. It took everything inside her to keep herself from running to her car. She’d just met the consequences of her actions.
His name was Kinkade.
* * * * *
Riley watched the tall blonde leave. Good Lord, she even moved like sin. Trying to appear casual, he strained to watch those long legs of hers until they disappeared from sight. Fantasies about those legs were already making his head hurt.
Touching her had been the wrong thing to do but he hadn’t been able to help himself. Considering what he’d wanted to do, massaging her ankle had been downright tame.
Only it hadn’t felt tame.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. He adjusted his jacket to hide the bulge behind the zipper of his pants. This wasn’t looking good. He was a cop, for God’s sake, and for all he knew, she could be a suspect.
She didn’t seem to be the type, though. The dame was classy and she certainly didn’t need the money. Still, she’d been wired. Her nervous energy had made the air around her crackle.
“What do you know about her?” he asked the gallery owner.
“She’s single,” Arthur said helpfully.
Riley grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. So his casual behavior hadn’t been so casual after all. “What’s her relationship with the Harringtons?”
“They run in the same social circle. Talia sits on the Arts Council Board with Brent.”
“Do they get along?”
Arthur finally picked up on the direction of the conversation. “Really, Detective. You can’t suspect her. I’ve known Talia Sizemore for years. Why, she would no more steal than go running naked through the streets.”
Now that was a vision. Riley shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve got to learn all I can if I’m going to track down that cat.”
“Well, Talia didn’t take it. She’s a good woman. She runs a nice, friendly shop called Coolectibles over on Cavalier Drive. Why, she even has a foundation that helps bring the arts to disadvantaged kids. She’s not a thief.”
“Sounds more like a paragon of virtue.”
“She is.”
She wasn’t. Riley had known it the moment he’d touched her. She wasn’t virtuous at all. She was a red-blooded, sensual woman. He’d felt it in the way her body had melted against his. When he’d been crouching in front of her, he could have sworn her hips had swayed toward him. If the gallery owner hadn’t been standing five feet away, he just might have taken her up on the invitation and gone rooting around under that short skirt.
His cock twitched at the intimate memory and he became irritated with himself. He needed to watch it. He had a job to do and getting tangled up with somebody involved in the case could be disastrous.
“She seemed nervous,” he commented. She’d been wound tight as a top from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Her palms had been sweaty and her breaths had been shallow. Come to think of it, his breaths hadn’t been very steady, either.
“She seemed aroused to me, Detective.”
Riley shot a surprised look at the seemingly demure Arthur but this time he couldn’t hide his smile. “You think?”
“I think.”
He nodded slowly. The idea appealed to him, although there wasn’t a hell of a lot he could do about it. “Well, that’s good, because I have a feeling that the lady and I will be seeing a lot of each other.”
Turning, he looked toward the door where Talia Sizemore had just exited.
Getting to know her better intrigued him. There were things he wanted to know, like how those legs of hers felt up under that short skirt. Would her breasts fit into his hands as perfectly as he suspected they would? Did she like it better from the front or behind? Most of all, though, he wanted to know what was going on behind those sharp amber eyes, because Talia Sizemore, paragon of the art world, was hiding something.
He’d bet his entire month’s paycheck on it.
Chapter Three
Talia drove without direction. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard they turned white. The detective had known. He’d seen that she was lying.
What was she supposed to do now? Where was she supposed to go?
“How did this happen?” she asked incredulously. She’d never meant for things to go this far. She hadn’t been thinking when she’d lashed back at Brent. Her emotions had overridden everything else. Looking back, it all seemed like some sort of chaotic dream.
But it hadn’t been a dream. The police were involved now. That made everything just a little too real. And Kinkade had definitely been real. Just remembering him picking up her briefcase made her hands begin to shake so badly, she had to pull over to the side of the road.
“Settle down,” she told herself determinedly. She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and made herself take deep breaths. “You can’t help yourself if you fall apart.”
But falling apart was tempting. She knew that she hadn’t fooled him. His sharp eyes hadn’t missed a tremor of her hands. His ears had heard every catch of her breath.
She needed to get rid of the Harringtons’ piece ASAP!
Lifting her head, she finally took in her surroundings. Unknowingly, she’d driven out of the city and headed to the shores. She was at the lighthouse. Fumbling with the door handle, she got out of her car. The sharp autumn wind smacked her in the face but the air cleared her thoughts and sharpened her concentration.
The cat had to go; that was a given. She couldn’t let it be found in her possession.
Wrapping her arms around her waist, she walked over to the lookout. Below, the ocean waves crashed against the cliff walls. The sight brought to mind an immediate solution.
Cautiously, she looked around. Only a few other visitors mingled about. Her gaze focused on her car and, in her mind, she could see the animalier’s eyes sparkling at her. The smirk on the cat’s face made her stomach clench.
It just wasn’t fair. The Harringtons would collect on their insurance but what about her? She’d taken that stupid cat for a reason. A damn good reason.
“And what about the arts program?” she said aloud. The wind caught her words and carried them out to sea.
And then there were her sensibilities! That bronzed cat was beautifully crafted. It was an original Mène—not one of the extensive reproductions. The French sculptor’s playful animals were highly desirable collectors’ items. She couldn’t destroy it. It went against everything inside of her.
“What am I going to do?” she whispered.
A chill ran down her spine and she wrapped her arms more tightly about her waist. Just how did one get rid of a stolen piece of art?
She tilted her head back toward the sky and groaned. She couldn’t believe she was even thinking like this. She was a respectable art dealer. She was an appraiser, for heaven’s sake. She sat on the Council for the Arts. If there was one subject she knew, it was ethics.
“Ethics,” she said slowly. “Professor Winston!”
Her heart rate picked up as inspiration hit. The professor specialized in functional art history but he’d also taught her favorite class, Art Fraud and Ethics, at New Covington College. He knew everything there was to know about forgeries and scams. Wouldn’t it make sense that he’d also know the inner workings of the black market?
She slowly drummed her fingers on the guardrail. “Maybe,” she said.
Her mind began to turn. She could use her shop as a cover. She could say that somebody had tried to sell her a stolen piece. Her curiosity about the dealings of the arts underworld would be understandable. She just needed to play it better than she had with the detective.
Kinkade.
She trembled and turned sharply from the ocean view. Approaching Professor Winston was a risk she had to take.
* * * * *
New Covington College’s campus was beautiful in the fall. Leaves fell from trees as Talia strode toward Jefferson Hall where she’d been told Professor Winston was teaching a class. She should have known she’d find him giving a lecture. The professor was a favorite among- students. He had an amazing ability to take what could be dull subjects and bring them to life. Back in her day, his lectures on sexuality in art history were often standing room only—not to mention his lab classes on the techniques of art fraud. They were overbooked every semester.