On the Prowl Page 7

  Stiffly, she started toward the kitchen. With each step, the flap of her robe flew open and Riley was graced with the sight of long, smooth legs. He felt his control slip a notch. “Sit down,” he said. “I’ll get things. I saw the mugs in the cupboard.”

  Turning abruptly, he headed for the stove. Almost prophetically, the kettle began to whistle. He snarled at it. He didn’t need it to tell him that impartiality was going to be a bitch on this case.

  His grip on the pot was tight as he poured water into two cups and added the tea bags. They’d reached a tenuous truce and he needed to play by her rules. Even though everything about her made him think of sex, he needed to tone things down. At least for the time being. Once he ruled her out as a suspect, he could turn the heat back up.

  Way up.

  “That’s a nice shop you have downstairs,” he said as he carried the cups to the kitchen table. She hadn’t taken a seat, but hovered nearby. He needed to get her to relax and her shop was the only safe ground he could think of. “It’s different than all the others I’ve been in today. More approachable, you know?”

  She looked at him suspiciously. “Thank you.”

  He wasn’t trying to play mind games. He did like her place. It just wasn’t what he wanted to talk about now. Small talk seemed to be working, though, so he went with it. “It’s nice how you’ve got two rooms—one with the expensive stuff and one with things the rest of us lowlifes can afford. I was surprised to see all the kids.”

  “Our comic books are big sellers.” The lines on her forehead smoothed. After a long moment, she reached for her tea. “I wanted a place where everyone could get interested in collecting.”

  “You like kids?”

  She ventured a small smile as she lifted the mug to her lips. “I love them. I get more enjoyment out of selling a candy dispenser than a look-but-don’t-touch lamp. Unfortunately, the lamps are what keep me in business.”

  She gave him a considering look. Finally, she sat down at the table. Riley followed her lead. Her briefcase was in the chair before him so he reached down to move it. The lightness of the leather case surprised him and he shot a look at her. In that split second, her body went taut and a closed expression settled over her face.

  His instincts screamed. “You seem to have lost your rocks.”

  “Better than my marbles.” She nibbled on her lower lip when he didn’t laugh. “I cleaned it out after you commented on it.”

  Riley stared at her hard. He didn’t like the direction his thoughts were taking. He didn’t like it at all.

  Her gaze broke away and she suddenly became overly interested in the pattern on the ceramic cup. She traced it carefully with her thumbnail.

  “What do you know about the robbery at the Harringtons, Talia?” he asked, point-blank.

  She didn’t even flinch. “Nothing. Haven’t any of the other party guests been able to help you?”

  He glanced down at the briefcase. “The trail seems to have gone cold.”

  “Nobody saw anything?”

  He sat down in the chair and intentionally leaned forward, crowding her again, but this time for an entirely different reason. He couldn’t ignore the messages his gut was sending to his brain. “People saw a lot of things.”

  “Do you have any suspects?”

  Oh, she was a gutsy one.

  “I’m looking at somebody.” Purposefully, he let his gaze rake down her body. With a distraction like that, who would notice her pilfering a small fortune?

  She took a drink of tea with a strained air of nonchalance. “Why haven’t you made an arrest?”

  “I’m still trying to figure out the motive,” he said softly.

  She knew something. He could feel it in his bones. But if she was involved, it didn’t make sense. Any way he looked at it, she didn’t come off as being stupid and she seemed too classy for something so petty.

  “Isn’t it obvious? Somebody must have needed the money,” she said as she carefully set her mug down.

  He had a feeling it was more complicated than that. “It’s not always that simple. People have many reasons for the things they do.”

  “Like what?”

  “The thrill.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She looked at him so innocently, he wanted to grab her and shake the truth out of her. Then he wanted to carry her into the room at the end of the trail of clothes and ravage her until neither of them could walk.

  “Think about it,” he said, his voice rough. He moved his chair a few inches closer to turn up the heat. “The danger. The excitement. To some people it’s a powerful aphrodisiac.”

  She scooted to the far side of her seat. “You can’t be serious.”

  “But I am. Some people steal just to get their rocks off.”

  That, finally, unnerved her. “Don’t be crude, Kinkade. I don’t appreciate it.”

  “Can’t you picture yourself getting horny over doing something naughty?”

  Her cheeks turned red. “I can’t imagine why you’re saying these things to me.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he said silkily. “I think you can.”

  Her chair skidded against the floor as it was abruptly pushed back. “Are you accusing me of this crime?”

  Riley calmly took a sip of tea but all his concentration was on the gorgeous blonde standing over him. “No,” he said smoothly. “I’m just making an observation.”

  “What, exactly, are you insinuating?”

  He finally pushed himself away from the table and stood. At full height, he was a good six inches taller than she was. She tipped her chin up to look him in the face.

  “I’m not insinuating anything. I’m saying outright that I can see through that veneer you show the rest of the world.” He settled his hands on his hips and leaned into her personal space. “All they can see is the gloss, the icy perfection. You’re high-class; I’ll give you that, Sizemore. Inside, though, there’s heat dying to get out.”

  “I don’t see what—”

  “You don’t fool me, honey,” he said, cutting her off. “You might manage to tamp down the fire when you’re with other people but I can feel it. I know there’s more going on beneath the surface.”

  “You…you don’t know anything about me,” she sputtered.

  “No? Maybe you’re right. But guess what? I’m willing to learn.” He stared boldly at the spot where her robe gaped open to reveal rounded breasts. “And I’m going to be on you night and day until I find out everything.”

  Chapter Five

  The messenger came three days later with a plain, unmarked manila envelope.

  Talia sat staring at the money she’d found inside. It was so much—and so soon. Her heart thudded as she thumbed through the bills. She’d counted it a dozen times but her disbelief wouldn’t go away. The professor had gotten better than a good price for the Mène.

  But how had he done it? The robbery was still making front-page news. Hungry reporters were still broadcasting follow-ups. She couldn’t believe that someone had purchased such an infamous item or that the professor had taken such risks to sell it.

  No wonder he usually took such a large cut of the earnings.

  Earnings? She dropped the money, suddenly unable to bear it. She hadn’t earned this.

  God, how could she live with herself? This money was dirty. She’d stolen to get it.

  But she could put it to such good use.

  Distressed, she ran her fingers through her hair. Guilt, fear and excitement kept jerking her from one extreme to the other. These ill-gotten gains were going to haunt her; she knew it.

  She couldn’t let that stop her, though. The money, no matter where it had come from, was going to buy a lot of crayons and construction paper.

  And beads. It was the least she could do for Winston in return.

  “That’s it! I’ve got it!”

  Talia’s entire body jerked with surprise when Sadie yelled from the storage room. She heard her assistant coming her w
ay and her heart jumped up into her throat. She couldn’t let Sadie find her with this much money. She’d start to ask questions…questions that would need answers…answers that Talia didn’t have! Hastily, she stuffed the money back into the envelope. Half of it didn’t make it. She became flustered as she tried to scoop up the bills from her desk. She heard her assistant’s quick footsteps as she shoved everything into her desk drawer and locked it. She spun around in her chair just as her office door opened.

  “For God’s sake, Sadie, what is it?” She’d been on pins and needles ever since the detective had visited her—or, she should say, harassed her. It didn’t take much to startle her but her assistant’s call had pierced the quiet of the shop like an air siren.

  Sadie grabbed her by both arms. “I know what we can do! Come with me. It’s perfect.”

  Talia let herself be pulled out of her chair but she stumbled over her own feet as she tried to keep up with her excited friend. “Perfect for what? What are you talking about?”

  Sadie led her to the cluttered storeroom, but stopped so suddenly, Talia ran right into her.

  “That,” her assistant declared.

  “What? Where?” Talia looked around the area but all she could see was the ugly Turkish rug they’d been trying to sell for over a year. She couldn’t see that rug being perfect for anything.

  “Yes, the rug!” Sadie rubbed her hands together like a mad scientist with a fiendish plot. “It’s going to help us get the after-school arts program back on its feet.”

  Talia did a double take. “And how is it going to do that?” she asked cautiously.

  Her assistant was showing all the telltale signs—the sparkle in the eyes, the gnawing of the lower lip, the cranking of the gears in her head… When Sadie got one of her grand ideas, it was usually best just to stand back and let her go.

  “Don’t you see? We’ll sell it—and maybe that oak armoire with the big chip in the side. We’ll donate the proceeds to the Foundation and count it as a tax write-off for Coolectibles.”

  Talia shook her head and spoke very slowly. “Aren’t you forgetting something? Nobody wants the rug or the armoire. That’s why they’re back here in the storeroom.”

  Sadie rolled her eyes. “Think outside the box, square peg. We won’t sell them here. We’ll sell them at a charity auction. A charity auction! I can’t believe it took me so long to think of that. We’ll donate pieces and ask others to contribute, too. I’m sure Arthur and some of our other competitors have something they’re dying to get rid of.”

  “An auction?” Talia cocked her head. Sadie’s grand ideas didn’t always pan out but this one was intriguing.

  “We’ll invite everyone. We’ll promote it as if it’s the biggest social event of the season.” Sadie suddenly turned and pointed a finger at her. “You’re connected. You can invite all your hoity-toity friends. If we play it right, they’ll be fighting to outdo each other.”

  Talia glanced at the rug again. “You know, that’s not such a bad idea.”

  She’d been losing sleep over this funding issue. It seemed that the more she tried to come up with ideas, the more her brain went in circles. Visions of the detective or the animalier wouldn’t stay out of her head. If her assistant had come up with a way to make the nightmares stop, she’d do whatever she could to help her.

  Sadie spread her arms and turned in a slow circle as if she were channeling the inspiration. “We’ll put ads in all the newspapers. It will be a black tie event. We’re going for the big bucks here.”

  Talia walked over to the rug and ran her fingers through the fringe. She was starting to see the picture that Sadie had in her head. “We could rent out the community theater,” she offered.

  “Rent?” Her assistant planted a hand on her hip. “Honey, this is for charity. We ask them to co-host the event and put their name on the brochure as a benefactor.”

  Talia laughed. “You’re much better at this than me.”

  “Then let me plan it.”

  She looked at her friend closely. “Are you serious? That’s a lot of work.”

  “I’m dead serious. My son needs that arts program.” Sadie self-consciously reached for her necklace and began playing with the pendant. She was a strong woman but her son’s run-in with the law had affected her more deeply than she liked to show. “Besides, I’m having a devil of a time trying to find things to occupy his hands and his mind. Helping me organize this will count as community service time. Anyway, I hope the judge will see it that way.”

  Talia felt a familiar pang of guilt. “I’m so sorry about all that.”

  “Don’t,” Sadie said, pulling away. She straightened her shoulders and her chin came up. “It will be good work for him.”

  Talia finally had a bright idea of her own. “This could be an opportunity for all the kids who’ve used the after-school program. We should display their work—and maybe auction some of it off, too. It will show the people that their money is going to a good cause.”

  Sadie’s eyes widened and Talia could almost see a lightbulb go on over her head. “You should bring up the idea at that dinner party you’re going to tonight. If Roger Thorton lends some credibility to the event, others will fall all over each other to join in.”

  Ugh. The dinner party. Talia grimaced. She was so not looking forward to that. Still, she’d promised Roger that she’d go. At least now she had a reason. “You’re right. I’ll see if he has anything he’d like to donate. That’s where we might have the biggest problem—getting nice pieces. Nobody’s going to want to buy trash.”

  Sadie acted affronted. “This rug isn’t trash. It’s exquisitely made. The threads are of the highest quality and the workmanship is so detailed. It’s just…just…”

  “Butt ugly,” they said in unison before bursting into laughter.

  * * * * *

  Talia’s sense of humor was long gone by the time she drove to the dinner party later that evening. It was hard to believe that she’d once looked forward to visiting the Thortons. They lived out in the country along a winding, tree-lined road. Her father had always brought her along on his visits so she could play with Felicia, Roger’s daughter. They’d swum in the pool, played tennis or rode horses as their fathers conducted business. Unfortunately, tonight she didn’t anticipate having much fun.

  The good old times were gone. She missed her father and Felicia lived far away in California. Thank God Roger was still here. He treated her like family and she loved him for that. It was Lydia she could do without.

  As she drove up to the house, she saw something else she’d prefer to avoid. Brent’s car was parked in the turnaround driveway.

  “Damn.” She hadn’t known he and Shelli were going to be here.

  Her thoughts went immediately to the envelope of money she’d locked in her safety deposit box at the bank. Could she really look the Harringtons in the face? The desire to turn around and leave was strong but Talia stiffened her resolve. She hadn’t seen the couple since the night of the party but she couldn’t hide from them forever. She might as well get it over with. Avoiding them might arouse suspicion—and she’d had enough of that.

  She parked her car behind Edward Jones’ sedan and was happy to see Roger waiting for her at the front door.

  “Talia,” he said warmly as she walked up the steps to the house. “I’m so glad you could make it. I was worried you might still be under the weather.”

  “I’m feeling much better,” she said with a smile on her face. She kissed his cheek and turned so he could take her wrap from her shoulders.

  His eyes widened as he took in her dress. “Wow! Call me a dirty old man but you look fabulous!”

  “You’re not old,” she said, laughing.

  Secretly, she was pleased. She rarely obsessed over her appearance but, tonight, she’d taken special care. She looked good and she knew it. The red halter dress was classy, but eye-catching. The style complimented her figure and she felt sexy in it. She also felt powerful, a side ben
efit of having finally taken action, albeit illegal. That power was going to help her take a more established position as the Sizemore Foundation’s president.

  Roger’s attention was still on her dress, so she made an obligatory spin. The skirt whirled around her legs and the long slit showed a liberal amount of skin. The older man’s pupils narrowed and, suddenly, Talia was caught with a most inappropriate feeling.

  “Roger, where are you?” came a voice from the next room.

  Her happy, flirtatious mood abruptly ended. She braced herself as Lydia came into the entryway but her composure was severely tested when the woman was followed by her best friend, Ramona Gellar.

  Great. The two of them. Together. It didn’t bode well for the evening.

  Both women already had glasses of Scotch. When she saw her latest guest, Lydia’s face scrunched up. She acted as if she’d just caught a bad smell. “Oh hello, Talia.”

  The tone was textbook Lydia. Talia plastered a smile on her face. “Good evening, Lydia. Ramona.”

  “That’s quite the number you’re wearing,” Ramona said as she patted her bouffant hairdo. “Or should I say almost wearing?”

  Her raucous laughter echoed off the walls of the entryway and Talia’s fingers bit into her clutch. She could feel people’s attention being drawn from the next room. “Thank you,” she said in a tight voice. “I appreciate being invited to dinner.”

  “Well, thank him. It was his idea.” Lydia’s Scotch swished in her glass as she gestured to her husband. “Really, Roger, would you get in here? I need you to speak to the chef.”

  Roger gave Talia a sympathetic smile and squeezed her hand. “Come. I’ll escort you into the great room before I handle our latest disaster. An hour ago, we learned that there wasn’t enough parsley to decorate all the plates. Oh, the horror.”

  Some of Talia’s irritation evaporated in spite of herself. She didn’t know how the man stayed in such good spirits but, if he could live with the witch, she could certainly stand one evening in her presence. Bolstering her resolve, she hooked her arm through his. There had to be at least one pleasant person here. She looked for familiar faces as they entered the room where most of the guests had gathered.