Twice the Temptation (30 page)

 
As for Rick, not only was he in a meeting, but he wasn’t answering his damn cell phone, which she knew because she’d called it four times. Four calls in two hours was pushing it—five would make her a resident of pityville or stalkytown.Just deal, Sam , she told herself.
She knew enough to watch and wait until the players around her showed more of their cards.

 
Her cell phone rang, not in one of the familiar tunes she’d assigned her various friends and family. Giving an apologetic wince to the museum people around her, she flipped open the phone and headed past one of the armed bobbies guarding the door.

 
“Hola,” she said.

 
“Hello, sweetheart,” Rick’s voice returned.

 
Even through the phone she could tell that he was unhappy about something.Join the club, bub . “Where are you calling from?”

 
“The lobby of the Mandarin Oriental,” he said. “I’m having lunch and waiting to have a new cellular and a rental car delivered.”

 
“Ah. What happened to your old stuff?”

 
“A Volvo ran over my phone.”

 
“And the Jag?”

 
“It blew a tire.”

 
She took a breath, the sudden sharp worry that squirreled down her spine surprising and scaring her. “Are you okay, Rick?”

 
“Safe as houses. I met a very nice breakdown driver named Angus, and now I’m trying to charm bloody Joseph Allenbeck into accepting vehicle failure as a legitimate reason for being tardy to a meeting.”

 
“So you’ve had a good day, too.”

 
This time he paused. “You haven’t jumped into any mystery or mayhem without me, have you?”

 
“No more than I usually do.”

 
“Care to explain that, Samantha?”

 
“Not over the phone while you’re standing in the lobby of the Mandarin Oriental.”

 
“Right.” For a moment he was so quiet that she
could hear the concierge calling for a limousine in the background.

 
“Rick?”

 
“Will you be all right for the next forty minutes or so?”

 
She frowned at her phone. Since he was two hours away, it seemed like kind of an odd question. Then it dawned on her. “Finish your meeting,” she said. “Don’t you dare start helicoptering around the countryside just to hold my hand.”

 
“You’re certain.”

 
“I’m certain. We’ll exchange war stories tonight. And Rick?”

 
“Yes, love?”

 
“Are you starting to believe that diamond curse thing yet? Because I totally have the wiggins.”

 
She heard his sigh. “Don’t blame it on an old rock. I think true bad luck for us, Yank, can be and has been so much worse than this.”

 
“That’s what you think,” she muttered.

 
“Beg pardon?”

 
“Nothing. I’ll see you tonight. Be careful, Rick.”

 
“I will.”

 
Slowly she flipped the phone closed again. The conversation with Rick made her feel a little better in that at least she knew he was okay. It also made a couple of other things clear. He would always come riding to her rescue, ready to pluck her out of danger—or more likely, to jump in with her. In this instance, though, plucking and jumping wasn’t exactly what she needed. No, today she had to admit that old friends would be more helpful than new ones.

 
With a sigh she opened the phone again and hit speed dial number two.

 
Four rings later the line clicked open. “Your damn clothes had better be on fire, Sam, because it’s…it’s five twenty-one in the morning here.”

 
“Just be glad I didn’t call you four hours ago when I wanted to,” she returned, automatically relaxing a fraction at the sound of Stoney’s voice. He sounded exactly like who he was—a big black man with a deep streak of poetry running through him, and an even deeper streak of larceny combined with Mother Hubbard alongside that.

 
“If you’d called me then, I still would have been awake.”

 
“Oh. Are you still seeing Kim, the real estate lady?”

 
“If that’s why you’re calling me I’m going to hang up and yank you out of my damn Rolodex.”

 
“Okay, okay. Can you talk business?”

 
She could almost hear him coming to attention. “Hold on.”

 
Sam grinned. “Oh, my God! She’s totally over there with you, isn’t she?”

 
“For your information, nosey, I’m at her place. Now what’s up?”

 
“You still have some contacts over here, right?”

 
“A few. People tend not to answer my calls when they find out I’m a partner in Jellicoe Security.”

 
That reminded her that she still needed a better name for her business. One thing at a time. “See if you can run down anybody who might be trying to bag a big profit with a traveling precious gems exhibit, will you?”

 
“Would that beyour exhibit, honey?”

 
“It would. Scotland Yard got a tip that we might get hit. I’m supposed to step back and let the experts handle it.”

 
He snorted. “If they only knew. What does Lord Big Wallet say about this?”

 
“He doesn’t know yet. And I thought you two were allies now.”

 
“Only when it comes to backing up your fanny. I’m going back to bed now. Thanks to you she’s probably awake and now I’ll have to be studly again.”

 
“Oh, gross. Don’t be telling me shit like that.”

 
“Like I want to hear about you and the English muffin. ’Bye, sweetie.”

 
“’Bye, Stoney.”

 
She hung up. Okay, she had help on the case now, so probably the smartest thing to do would be to go back in and make sure everything was getting set up according to plan and that none of the white hats had fiddled with any of the sensors or cameras. It was a sad day when you couldn’t even trust the good guys anymore.

 
As she walked back inside the main exhibit room, one of the bobbies was arguing with one of her guys, Hervey, about who had the authority to let whom into the building. “Hey,” she snapped, “today you both agree that they get in, or they don’t. Clear?”

 
“As glass, ma’am,” Hervey returned, practically saluting.

 
The bobby nodded; apparently he thought that looked cooler. Swearing under her breath, Samantha made her way through the displays and safe boxes until she found Larson on a ladder beside one of her cameras.

 
“That’s for authorized personnel only, Mr. Assistant to the Assistant Curator,” she commented, just barely resisting the urge to yank him down to the floor.

 
He stepped down. “Please, Miss Jellicoe,” he said in a low voice, taking her arm and leading her to a less crowded corner, “I’ve taken you into my confidence for
convenience’s sake. As far as all but the senior museum personnel know, I am a new appointee to this position. The officers know they’re to cooperate with me, and that’s all.”

 
“Convenience, my ass. I found you out,” Samantha said, pulling her arm free. Nobody grabbed her, except maybe for Rick. But no cops. Ever. “So stop fooling with the security equipment like it’s part of your job. The V & A asked for this location, and they asked for me to oversee the venue’s safety. If you want to blow your own damned cover, then keep it up.”

 
He frowned, the expression joining his eyebrows together in one long, shaggy line. “Listen, Miss Jellicoe, I tried to be diplomatic, but let’s not fool ourselves. The museum asked to use Lord Rawley’s land, and he agreed on the condition that his girlfriend, a cat burglar’s daughter, be included. I know that with Lord Rawley’s help you’ve had a few lucky breaks, but I am a professional. The V & A and Scotland Yard want me here. You go on and make certain your lights are plugged in, and let me do what I’m best at.”

 
Which was being an idiot, apparently. She bit that comment back. Okay, so what if, with the possible exception of her dad, she’d probably bagged more loot than any cat alive or dead. She wasn’t about to tell Inspector Henry Larson that. And if somebody did mean to hit the place, it would definitely take some of the heat off her if he took the credit for shutting them down,or for letting them get away with it—except that she wasn’t going to let that happen. Not for anything.

 
Everything looked fairly normal when Richard drove up past his guarded gates in the Jag, repaired courtesy of Jardin’s Auto Repair. Appearances, however, as he’d
learned upon meeting Samantha, could be extremely deceiving.

 
He stopped the car at the front of the house and topped the shallow granite steps as his white-haired butler pulled open the front door. “Sykes. Have Ernest put up the car, will you? And check the tires and whatever else he can think of.”

 
“Yes, sir. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. And Miss Sam is in the cellar.”

 
“Thank you.”

 
He descended the stairs at the back of the house. Once he reached the large cellar he first headed through the door on the right and into the temperature-controlled room beyond. A bottle of wine tonight seemed like a very good idea. The door to the left was closed, as well. It had been since Samantha had agreed to manage the security for the gems exhibit. He punched in the code and pulled the door open.

 
She sat beside Craigson, her eyes on the monitors lining the back wall and her back to him. “Greetings, Lord Rawley,” she said, waving over her shoulder. “I thought you were bringing a rental car home.”

 
“Jardin’s Auto Repair apparently keeps Jaguar parts in stock,” he returned, not surprised that she’d watched his approach on camera. They had agreed that with the exception of the south gallery wing the interior of the house be void of security cameras. They each had their own reasons for wanting it, but they both valued their privacy.

 
She stood, stretching her back, and joined him by the door. “How was the rest of your day, my English muffin?”

 
He distinctly heard Craigson stifle a chuckle. Word
lessly Richard took her hand and pulled her into the main part of the cellar, closing the security door behind them. Then he drew her up against him, leaned down, and kissed her softly on the mouth. “Hi,” he said, pulling away a few inches to gaze into her sharp green eyes.

 
“Hi,” she breathed back, sliding an arm around his waist and the other over his shoulder.

 
“‘English muffin,’” he repeated, shifting his kisses to the top of her head. “That’s one of Walter’s. You’ve been talking to him, then? About whatever happened today thatwe couldn’t discuss over the phone, I presume?”

 
She fisted her hand and cuffed him on the shoulder. “I said we couldn’t discuss it with you standing in the middle of the Mandarin Oriental lobby. We can definitely talk about it now, unless you’re too busy being tall, dark, and jealous.”