Cat Got Your Tongue? (7 page)

“You like Rodin’s work?” he asked.

“His statues are so full of depth and emotion.” She slid her fingers along the contours of the sculpture of two lovers in a passionate embrace, their mouths locked in a heated kiss. “He’s captured the lust between them so well.”

“That’s what drew me to it in the first place.”

“This was sold last year at Rockefeller Plaza.”

Her knowledge of art amazed him. “You’re like an art catalogue.”

“I am?”

“I suspect you could quote every piece of art I own.”

Her smile confirmed his suspicion. “I love art. It fascinates me.”

You fascinate me.

Her hair fell forward as she bent to study the statue and he had to fight the urge to reach out and brush the curls away.

“It’s hard to think that he failed as a painter,” she said.

He swept a casual gaze over her curves and felt a tightening in his pants. Yes, it was hard to think. Damn hard.

“His statues made him the success he was,” he replied, deciding they needed a change of topic. Having her staring with such intensity at the two lovers locked in a wild embrace made him think of all sorts of things that were probably, definitely, inappropriate.

“Do you have any of his other pieces?”

“Several, but not all here.” He disposed of their jackets and poured them a drink. “Shall I show you around?” He couldn’t resist flashing her a teasing grin when handing her the glass. “I’m sure we could do with a drink after our little drama outside the restaurant.”

Alex laughed. “Oh, God. That was embarrassing.”

“For you maybe. For me, it was … entertaining.”

“I’m glad I could entertain you.”

That and more. “It seemed effective.”

“Poor kid.”

“His friends will tease him for sure, but it serves him right.”

“They were so stoned. The chances they’d remember it in the morning are slim.”

His grin widened. “I’ll certainly remember it in the morning.”

They made their way around the lavish townhouse, ending on the top floor that consisted of two rooms.

“My bedroom.” He pushed open the door, a teasing gleam in his eyes. He stood back, waiting for her to enter. “Step inside.”

“Said the spider to the fly,” Alex said, extracting a laugh from him. She walked into his private suite that took up most of the top floor and glanced around.

The spacious room, furnished with the same expensive taste as the rest of the house, looked warm and inviting. On the one side of the room, he’d created a cozy corner with a wall mounted plasma screen, a coffee table and two comfortable couches. The door of the walk-in closet was ajar and Alex caught a glimpse of Prada and Armani suits neatly hanging on the railings. There was a door leading to what she assumed was the en suite bathroom and she knew without looking that it would be practical but beautiful. A large bed with a huge headboard and matching nightstands rested against the far wall.

Standing with a handsome man in his bedroom, his bed a few feet away, brought all sorts of inappropriate images to mind and she was thankful he was unable to see her expression from his position behind her.

Perhaps viewing his bedroom had been a bad idea. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from his bed.

“Shall I show you where you’ll be staying?” he offered in a low, all too compelling voice.

Alex was quick to agree, grateful for the distraction.

She masked her surprise when he led her to the door next to his. Of course. Of all the rooms in the house, he’d picked the bedroom beside his. Now
that
should have her sleeping like the dead at night.

The second room was spacious but smaller than his suite. It was private and comfortable and all she’d need during her stay at the townhouse.

“This okay?”

“It’s great,” Alex replied, trying to contain her unwelcome arousal at the knowledge that her room was right next door to his.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, almost as though he’d read her mind. “I don’t bite. Unless asked to.”

Alex flashed him a grin. “I think I need another drink.”

Cole smiled and reached for her glass. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he disappeared, Alex descended the stairs in search of the library, curious to see the room in the light.

When Cole had pulled up in front of his townhouse the night of the burglary, she’d heard him give the instruction to his butler and driver to offload the painting in the library.

That’s how Steven Bryson knew where the painting would be. But how did he know where the library is?

The cat had known exactly where he was going. There’d been no hesitation, no peeping inside any of the rooms, trying to find the painting. He hadn’t even bothered to cut the alarm, which told her he’d planned to be in and out before anyone reacted to it. Either Steven had blueprints of the house or he’d been there before.

“What are you doing?” Cole asked behind her.

“I was wondering how the cat knew where the library is.” Distracted, she reached for the door handle in question.

“How do you know the library’s through that door?”

Alex froze. Damn. She really was smarter than that. She pushed open the door and went inside. “Just a hunch.”

Cole didn’t comment and flipped on the light, studying her. Alex ignored him as she absorbed the beautiful room in awe.

Wooden mahogany shelves lined the walls, neatly stacked with books of all different shapes, sizes, and titles. Several comfortable couches and a large round table decorated the room, all chosen and placed with care, all expensive. A Monet painting, painted as part of his Water Lily series in the nineteenth century, hung against the far wall, remarkable in its age and beauty.

“You said earlier that the first scuffle was here, in the library,” Alex said. “Where were you standing?”

“Alex.” Cole moved closer. “You’re bleeding.”

Alex looked down at her side. Her wound had started bleeding sometime during the evening and had seeped through the dressing and her blouse, settling into a big telltale red stain.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He stood directly in front of her, his body almost touching hers, and she tilted her head to look at him. “I just need a clean dressing.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I have to go.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a whispered curse. “It was you. The night of the auction it was you.”

****

“Ouch, that hurts!” Alex winced as Cole dabbed alcohol on her wound. She sat on the kitchen table with Cole positioned on a chair in front of her, the first aid kit spread out beside them.

Cole silenced her with a glare, his hand pausing over her wound. The bullet had grazed past her, missing her by a fraction but close enough to scrape away a large portion of skin. He didn’t know what annoyed him more—that she hadn’t told him about her involvement in the burglary, or that she’d been hurt. “Serves you right.”

“Remind me never to save you again.”

He dabbed the wound. “Why haven’t you had this checked out yet?”

“It was on my list but—ouch! Will you stop that?”

“Tell me again why you followed me home the night of the auction.”

“I already told you.”

“Tell me again.”

“I noticed the cat casing you out at Christie’s and I saw him follow your limo. I suspected he was pulling a job and was after the Renoir. I followed you both and waited until he went in.” Alex gasped and grabbed Cole’s hand. “Do you have to do that?”

“I have to clean this damn wound properly.” He ripped open the packaging for a clean dressing. “Why did you wait? Why didn’t you warn me?”

“And tell you what? That I thought there was a cat about to steal your painting? You would have laughed at me.”

“Sit still,” he grumbled and leaned forward to apply the dressing. Her blouse was unbuttoned and she wore a pink satin bra underneath—something Cole was trying very hard not to focus on.

“I needed to be certain. When he came back, I followed him in—”

“Why? Why not call the police and let them handle it?”

Alex sighed. “Cole, men like him don’t play nice. The slightest smell of a threat to his hit and he wouldn’t hesitate to pull his gun—and he did, didn’t he? There was no time to call the police.” She slapped his hand away from her waist. “If I hadn’t gone in when I did, you’d be the one with a damn bullet wound, not me. I knew something was going down. I might not have thought it through, but I was acting on my instincts and trying to save your ungrateful ass.”

Point taken. Cole sat back in his chair and studied her in silence. His gaze shifted from her flushed face down to her pink bra and settled on the patch on her hip. A range of emotions went through him and he lifted his head to meet her brooding stare.

“You saved my life and you got hurt doing it,” he murmured, his voice clouded with an emotion he couldn’t decipher. “Thank you.”

The mood shifted between them and they looked at each other in silence.

“Thank you,” Alex said softly, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

“What was that for?” Cole asked, trying to hide his surprise.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

Cole had the sudden urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless. “I kind of figured you wouldn’t break into my house to steal a painting and then see me the following day to discuss security.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Just a couple of things you let slip but I only pieced it together when I caught a smell of your hair in the library.”

“My hair?”

He smiled. “It smells like vanilla shampoo and I recognized it from the other night.”

“I really had nothing to do with the robbery.”

“I know. I just wish you’d told me what had happened.”

“I had to be sure you’d believe me. I can’t afford to have the cops all over me.” She tugged her blouse closed. “There’s something else you should know though.”

“I get the feeling I’m not going to like this.”

“You’re not.”

Leaning back in his chair, Cole locked his fingers behind his head and looked at her. “Okay, hit me.”

Alex took a deep breath. “Your cat burglar knew where the painting would be and he knew exactly where to find the library.”

“But how could he know where the library is?” Cole pushed back his chair and paced the room. “Are you sure he didn’t just get lucky?”

“No. He knew. I was right behind him and there was no hesitation.”

“And the alarm?”

Alex buttoned her blouse. “They have equipment and methods that most people would find astounding. Either he has blueprints of your house or he’s been in the house before. His plan was simple. He knew you’re a billionaire with an art fetish—”

“I’d hardly call it a fetish.”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out you’d bid on the Renoir. He cased you out, gathered his information, maybe snuck into your house before the heist.”

“But why not take any of my other paintings then?”

Alex paused, running it over in her mind. “Is the Renoir the most valuable painting you own?”

“No.”

Alex paced a few steps and then stopped. “He wanted the Renoir which means he has a buyer who’s interested in it.”

Cole cursed and dragged in a deep breath to steady the surge of anger summoned by that thought. “Do you know how this makes me look? It gives the impression that I can be taken advantage of, that I’m weak, and that pisses me off. It’s like giving a golden invitation to every business shark or art thief out there to make a move on me.”

She let him brood for a moment before shifting her gaze to meet his. “Look, we’ll sort this out. I’ll get some answers, but you have to trust me, okay?”

“We should let the police know you were involved.”

Alex nodded, but he sensed she wasn’t in complete agreement. “They won’t be able to solve this, Cole. They’ve got nothing to go on.”

“I know.”

He blew out a frustrated breath and studied her from across the room. She wore black pants, her pink bloodstained blouse hanging loose around her hips. Somewhere during the course of returning to the townhouse, she’d kicked off her shoes—a far cry from the composed woman he’d seen the last two days. But their circumstances had changed tonight. Noting her disheveled appearance and the fire in her eyes gave him the sudden urge to kiss her. Hard.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Alex murmured.

“What thing?”

“Staring at me and making me all nervy.”

Cole smiled for the first time in what felt like ages, the smile easing some of the tension that coursed through him. Hell, he’d had a long day and he shouldn’t be thinking of sex at a moment like this. But he was. He wanted her.

He stared at her in silence as his inner conflict fought a small battle of its own. In the end, common sense won and he sighed in resignation. “Let’s pick this up in the morning,” he suggested, wondering how he could find her so damn sexy at a time like this.

“I have a couple of errands to run tomorrow and then I’ll meet you at your office.”

He shook his head. “I’ll be in meetings most of the day so I’ll see you back here when I’m done. I’ll organize for Warren to collect your things in the morning and you can get settled here while you wait.” The thought of having her in such close proximity to him sent heat spiraling through him. “A business associate is hosting a charity dinner party tomorrow night at the hotel. As it’s a huge affair, the press will be out in full force. I could use some decent arm candy with a kick.”

Alex laughed. “God, that description completely kills my image.”

“I think it’s pretty appropriate. Can you go?”

“Sure. Shall I meet you there or at home?”

Home. It sounded so domesticated. “At home.”

She nodded and winced as she reached for her bag. Clearly, she still hurt more than caring to admit.

“Alex?”

She looked back at him.

“Please have that gash checked out tomorrow. I need you. You’re no use to me if you’re down with an infection.”

Alex smiled. “There’s no chance in hell that a wound as small as this will bring me down, Anderson. I’m way tougher than that.”

Wednesday evening