Twice the Temptation (42 page)

 
“Get on your back,” Samantha ordered shakily, releasing her grip.

 
He complied immediately. Then, wrapping his hands around her thighs, he pulled her down over him, impaling her. “Sam,” he grunted, while she settled on his cock until he was fully engulfed in her tight, damp heat.

 
Samantha sat up, planting her palms on his chest, and lifted up and down, deep and fast.Christ . Even after eight months together, eight months of learning what the other liked and didn’t like, he still felt on the very frayed edge of control with her. It was as if his body completely took over, letting his mind come along for the ride.

 
“Rick,” she said shakily, bouncing faster.

 
She came right as he did, holding her thighs down hard against him until they were both finished. With a satisfied sigh, Samantha sank down on his chest, stretching her legs out to tangle with his.

 
“I won’t butt out,” he said quietly, into her tousled auburn hair, “but this, as you say, is your gig. Unless things change, I’ll let Larson figure this out on his own. That is his job, after all.”

 
“Thanks,” she said, shifting just enough to kiss his shoulder.

 
He held her until he felt her relax, her breathing soft and even against his chest. Normally the sensation of her falling asleep in his arms left him humbled and moved, but tonight he was more grateful than anything else.

 
Ten minutes later he began a slow shift until she lay on the bed and he could slip out from beneath her. He waited again as she stirred and settled in again. Then he silently rose and pulled his clothes back on, swiping her walkie-talkie as he left the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

 
“Harrington,” he said, after he flipped the radio on.

 
“Mr. Addison?”

 
“I’m going back out. Pay special attention to the roof of the exhibit hall while I’m there.”

 
“Will do, sir.”

 
However Samantha wanted to handle it, if he had a chance to catch Bryce Shepherd for so much as trespassing, he wasn’t going to pass it up. The stakes were too high to do anything else.

 
Chapter 10

 
Monday, 8:12 a.m.

 
Samantha crept through the north wing anddown the stairs, avoiding detection by the three people who passed her as she went, people who might have wished her good morning and ruined the stalking. At the breakfast room she leaned against the closed door, but didn’t hear anything. Very slowly she turned the knob and inched the door open.

 
At three inches she could get a good look at the table. Rick sat there, flipping through a thick stack of papers and alternately scribbling down notes on a legal pad as he worked his way through a plate of scrambled eggs. Those English guys liked their breakfasts hot and full of cholesterol.

 
Nobody else was in the room, so she straightened and pushed the door open the rest of the way, closing and latching it behind her. “Good morning, my English muffin,” she sang, leaning around him to plant a kiss on his coffee-tasting mouth.

 
“Good morning.”

 
“Any sign of Larson this morning?”

 
“Sykes said he ate early. He’s probably out patrolling the perimeter.”

 
“Good. Maybe he’ll fall in the lake.”

 
He grinned briefly. “You treat criminals better than you do the police.”

 
“Force of habit.” She made her way over to the loaded sideboard. “So how many people are coming to dinner tonight?”

 
“Twenty or so. A few spouses and partners are a bit iffy, but I should know by this afternoon. Sarah will call me with the final count. And yes, we all get the day off tomorrow, so don’t worry that I’m keeping them out too late on a weeknight. They can even stay over if they wish.”

 
She frowned as she piled strawberries and a buttered croissant onto her plate, grabbed a chilled Diet Coke, and rejoined him at the table. “You’re not going to the office today? You already skipped Saturday. And I thought you were lunching with the PM and some other MPs.”

 
“Oh, very good on the lingo. I’m about to call and reschedule.”

 
“For when, four weeks from now when the exhibit’s finished? Do you know how stir-crazy you’ll get, staying here every day, all day, for four weeks?”

 
He looked at her for a moment, a soft scowl on his face. Then he pulled out his phone and flipped it open. “Sarah? Have the helicopter come by for me, will you? And have Wilkins land on the dock, so we don’t frighten any tourists.” Rick listened for a second, then nodded. “That’s fine. Thank you.”

 
“Decided against the car?” Samantha asked offhandedly. “The diamond’s in the safe, right?”

 
“The diamond, once again and for the last time, has nothing to do with any of this. I’m taking the copter because it’s faster. And because I like saying it.”

 
She laughed. “‘Send the helicopter’ does have a certain ring to it.” She popped a strawberry into her mouth. “The day off tomorrow is nifty, but just make sure you let your minions knock off work early today; they’ll want to pretty up and they have to drive up here.”

 
“Yes, my lady. I believe several of my minions and their significant others want to thank you in person for making their lives easier.”

 
That actually made her feel good; she knew the impact Rick had onher work, but even though Rick said he used the advice she gave him and listened to her ideas, hearing concrete evidence of her contributions was rare. “I rule,” she said with a grin.

 
“Yes, you do.”

 
“And as the queen,” she said, popping the tab on her soda, “I suggest you keep that diamond where nobody can see it, much less touch it.”

 
He sighed. “The Nightshade Diamond has nothing to do with anything, and you know it. Bryce Shepherd came calling because he’s a thief and you’re protecting a gemstone exhibit. My tire blew because there was a nail in the road, and I lost the Blackpool project because I was late arriving for the meeting.”

 
“Connoll and Evangeline believed it was cursed.”

 
“They lived two hundred years ago, Samantha. Don’t be…” He trailed off.

 
“What?” she insisted. “Stupid? Ignorant?”

 
“Superstitious. It’s skill, cunning, and persistence that will win the day every time. Not luck.” Rick took a last bite of egg and pushed away from the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go catch a helicopter.” As he
walked by, he kissed her on the forehead. “Have a good day. You know how to reach me if anything happens. I can be here in twenty minutes.”

 
She rolled her eyes.Men . Rich men, in particular. “Hey,” she called to his back as he vanished through the door, “what time will you be home tonight?”

 
“I’ll try for four o’clock. Dinner’s set for six.”

 
The exhibit closed at five, which would give her an hour to dodge him, find something appropriate to wear, and steal the diamond out of the safe. If he didn’t believe in bad luck, then he could just carry it around with him tonight. Turnabout was fair play, after all.

 
At nine in the morning, they opened the gates. The crowd was smaller, though still pretty substantial for a Monday in the middle of Devonshire. Apparently the exhibit had been put on some must-see travel websites, because by eleven two busloads of Japanese tourists and one of Americans were parked in the gravel lot.

 
As Craigson’s two riders rounded up a half dozen wanderers trying to make their way onto the sitting room terrace from the lake, though, she began to wonder whether it wasn’t just the opportunity of seeing Rick Addison and Rawley Park up close that had prompted all the visits. He was fairly fanatical about his privacy, after all, and had never opened his house to the public before. That would of course change in December when the south wing art gallery opened, but right after the grand opening hopefully she and Rick would be back in Palm Beach. Jamie Craigson could be securityel jefe by then.

 
“Larson’s on his way in,” Craigson said, glancing over his shoulder at her.

 
She straightened.Get with it, Sam . Just because it was daylight and she had her own minions helping her watch the place didn’t mean she could drift off like
that. One of the garden cameras caught the inspector’s backside as he entered the house.

 
“I could tell him I saw somebody in the woods,” the chief guard suggested. “That would get rid of him for an hour or so.”

 
“Don’t tempt me, Jamie.”

 
A minute later somebody keyed the door entry code. “What channel are you using on the walkie-talkies?” Larson asked, shoving the door open.

 
“Hi, there,” Samantha returned, swinging around in her chair. “Good crowd for a Monday, don’t you think?”

 
“Stop messing about, Miss Jellicoe. You know I have a radio, so you told everyone to change the security channel. What is it?”

 
She grimaced at him. “Are you really going to be here for all four weeks?”

 
“I have another fortnight of holiday leave coming,” he returned stiffly. “I’ll stay until it’s finished, or until I catch my robber—whichever comes first.”

 
“You’re a pretty dedicated guy, then,” she said grudgingly, “using your vacation to stake out this place.”

 
“My source is a reliable one, whether my superiors want to pay me to be here or not. I’m just doing my job.”

 
“Aren’t we all?” she muttered, sending Craigson a reluctant nod.

 
“Channel eight,” Jamie supplied in his Scottish brogue.

 
“Thank you.” Larson turned his radio to the proper channel. “That wasn’t so difficult, now, was it? You see, we can cooperate.” He left the room again.

 
“Give him till one o’clock, then switch to channel three,” Samantha instructed, standing.

 
“Certainly. Where’re you off to?”

 
“I’d like to do a walk-through, but that wouldn’t go well.” Too many people recognized her now, especially here at Addison central. “I’ll make sure nobody else is trying to storm the castle.”

 
“I’ll beep you if anything changes here.”

 
“Thanks, Jamie.”

 
Tucking her walkie over her belt, she left the room. When Rick had listed the bad-luck occurrences not caused by the Nightshade Diamond, he’d left off Inspector Henry Larson. Her guys knew she was in charge, but if Larson hadn’t been present, she would have felt a little more free to add a few more preventive measures to stop Bryce. Tipping off the law before anything actually happened—and might not ever happen—just didn’t feel right.

 
She headed through the central part of the mansion to the sitting room at the back. The terrace doors were open, something Sykes usually did on pleasant days like this one, but with the hordes roaming around outside she wasn’t sure that was such a good idea.

 
Halfway across the room, she slowed. “You know, Bryce,” she said aloud, keeping her voice calm and even, “if you want to sneak around somewhere you should lay off the Old Spice aftershave.”