Dangerous to Know (8 page)

Since then, she'd lost her purse, her ring, and a little of her timidity. In return, she'd gained a new wardrobe, a new identity, if only for a short while, and an eye-opening insight into—

“Mademoiselle?”

Paige jumped. Delicate pale gold champagne splashed onto her chest. Blotting it with her palm, she stared at the man she'd labeled the grand duke.

“Yes?”

“One of our guests much admires your charm.”

“He…he does?”

“He does. He comes to us well vouchered, you understand? Very well vouchered.”

Paige understood. This unnamed patron represented the elite of the elite.

“Do you wish to meet him?”

So sophisticated, she thought. So polite. Unable to speak, she nodded.

“At your hotel? Within the hour?”

She swallowed, trying to find her voice.

“Within the hour,
mademoiselle?
”

Her powers of speech had completely deserted her. She could only stare at the duke and nod.

P
aige scarcely drew a full breath during the long drive back to the Carlton. The aching exhaustion that had racked her just moments ago was gone. In its place was a shimmering, shivering excitement.

She'd done it! By God, she'd done it!

Paige Lawrence, full-time technical librarian and sometime mouse, had just successfully passed herself off as Meredith Ames, woman of the world.

The gentleman who'd requested her company might not be Meredith's contact, she reminded herself. If he showed no interest in a certain microdot, he might have to be eased out of Meredith's suite, using the ingenious plan David devised earlier.

But then again, he just might be the individual trying to acquire stolen technology that would allow him to transfer millions and millions of bits of data at twice the current capacity. If he was, David would have identified his target, and Paige would have participated in the adventure of her life.

By God, she'd done it!

As the taxi swept along the broad, brightly lit boulevard, a
gathering tension gradually replaced her initial spurt of exultation. She wasn't quite home free, she reminded herself. The adventure wasn't over yet.

When the Carlton's caramel-and-cream facade came into view, she quivered with a combination of nervousness and anticipation. Stiff black skirts rustling, she slid out of the taxi and fumbled in her bag for some francs to pay the driver. While the doorman sorted through her wad of notes and bent down to negotiate a respectable fare, a small, slight figure detached itself from the shrubbery along the curved drive.

“So,
mademoiselle,
you have recovered from your swim in the sea, no?”

Startled, Paige swung around. “Henri?”

“Yes, it is me.”

Sauntering forward, the boy hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his rumpled shorts and looked her up and down. A long, low whistle drifted across the night air. “Of a certainty you have recovered.”

“What in the world are you doing here? It's almost four in the morning. You should be in bed.”

“Me, I do my business at night,” he announced with a cheerful insouciance. His red brows waggled. “As do you and your friend, no? The one with the so lovely legs.”

“What? Oh, yes.”

“Is this boy bothering you,
mademoiselle?
”

The deep voice at her shoulder made Paige jump. She turned and hurriedly assured the frowning doorman that, no, the boy wasn't bothering her. Rocking back on his heels, Henri waited while the dubious doorman gave her the change, then moved away to assist another patron into the cab. Even at this late hour, a steady stream of limousines and taxis glided along the wide curved drive in front of the hotel, picking up and discharging passengers. Paige wondered if one of those vehicles held David. Or Maggie. Or her prospective client.

Nervously, she turned to bid the boy good-night, only to have him forestall her with a shrewd assessment.

“You have the customer, no?”

She nodded, her face heating. This youngster's frank knowledge of the world astounded her.

Henri smirked and rocked back on his heels. “It is the big man who takes you in his arms this afternoon, no? Of a certainty, he has the passion for you.”

Arrested, Paige stared at him. “Really? You saw that, did you?”

“
Mais oui!
He will be generous, that one, as much as he desires you. You must make sure you ask a proper fee.”

“Fee? Oh. Yes. Yes, I will.”

A look of complete disgust crossed his freckled face. “Do not say you failed to establish the price before you make the assignation with him?”

“Well, I…”

“Just how long is it that you do this type of work,
mademoiselle?
”

“Not very long.”

Paige couldn't believe she was standing outside one of the world's most elegant hotels, discussing such matters with a grubby-faced boy.

“Look, I have to go inside,” she said, a little desperately. “It's late and I, uh, have to get ready.”

The boy planted himself before her. “No, no, you must not. Not until we decide your fee.”

“We?” she echoed weakly.

“But of course. Unless you have the manager to do this for you?”

“Er, no.”

The boy frowned. “One can tell you need someone to assist you,
mademoiselle.
One who knows the value of the service you provide.”

He looked her up and down once more, then suggested a figure that almost made Paige gasp. Just in time, she remembered she was supposed to be among the best of the best.

“Yes, that's about what I had considered. Well, good night.”

“Wait. You must pay me fifty francs,
mademoiselle.
”

“For what?”

“For my consultation.”

Sure that David would come along at any moment and ask what the hell she was doing, Paige fumbled in her purse. She dragged out a note and thrust it in the boy's hand.

Clucking, he shook his head. “It is too much. Of a certainty,
mademoiselle,
you have need of the manager.”

He reached into a pocket of his shorts and pulled out a fat roll of bills.

Paige blinked in astonishment. “Do your parents know you carry all that money around with you?”

His lips pursed in concentration, he counted out her change with careful deliberation. That done, he stuffed the roll back in his pocket and gave a nonchalant shrug.

“Me, I have no parents. This money is not mine. I deliver it for certain patrons who wish to place the bets with Antoine.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Antoine, he breaks my legs if the money does not arrive intact, you understand.”

Paige stared at the boy incredulously. She wasn't exactly sure, but she thought he'd just admitted that he was a runner for the local bookie. Among other things, it soon appeared.

“So,
mademoiselle,
shall I be your manager?”

“No! No, thank you, Henri.” Flustered, Paige knew she had to end this incredible conversation. “I'm, um, an independent.”

With that, she bade him a quick good-night and hurried inside. Her nerves, already strung taut by the interminable ride back to the hotel, were now stretched to their limits.

As the wrought-iron elevator cage creaked and groaned its way to the fifth floor, Paige forced herself to repeat over and over the list of instructions David had prepared for just this situation. Still muttering under her breath, she unlocked the door to the suite and stepped inside.

First, sweep the suite for any devices that might have been planted in her absence.

She fumbled with the hairbrush handle for a moment, twisting it this way and that, then waited until a small red dot glowed in its end. With a sob of relief, she tossed the brush on the dressing
table. No hostiles, as Maggie had termed them, only the devices she herself had planted.

Second, test friendly system.

“This is Jezebel,” she whispered to the bedroom at large. “Can you hear me?”

“We have you covered, Jezebel,” a feminine voice assured her.

Startled, Paige glanced up at the cherubs atop a high carved chiffonier. One of the plump little angels on the chest of drawers seemed to have spoken directly to her.

“Is…is Doc there?”

“He's on his way up.”

“Okay.”

“Just stay calm.”

If she hadn't been rather shy by nature, and speaking to an angel, Paige might have made a very rude response to that comment.

Third…

Oh, Lord, what was the third item on David's list? Or had she already done the third? What was the fourth?

Frantic, Paige searched her mind. Oh, yes. She was supposed to leave the lights dimmed, to keep her client from seeing the nervousness in her face.

And leave the door to the suite unlocked.

David had stated calmly that he could take the door down without much difficulty, but he didn't want even that much of a barrier if Paige needed him. Her skirts swishing, she hurried into the sitting room and turned off all but one lamp. That done, she took the chain off the door.

When someone rapped softly against the door a few moments later, the knowledge that David was watching and listening and waiting just across the hall was the only thing that kept her knees from crumpling under her.

“Come in,” she called out, her heart thumping.

The tall oak panel opened with agonizing slowness.

Throat tight, fists clenched in the folds of her full skirt, Paige
stared at the figure silhouetted against the glow of the crystal chandelier in the corridor.

He wore a black tuxedo that shaped his broad shoulders like a mantle of night. The diamond studs in his white dress shirt caught the chandelier's light. He stood unmoving for a long moment, yet Paige sensed immediately the coiled power in his tall, muscled frame.

“David?” she whispered.

With an unhurried calm, he locked the door and walked into the sitting room. In the dim shadows, he loomed large and reassuringly solid.

Paige did a quick mental inventory of the possible contingency plans he'd made her memorize. His presence in her suite when the contact arrived wasn't one of them.

“What are you doing here? I thought I was supposed to meet my—” she swallowed “—meet Meredith's client alone.”

“You are.”

She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “He should be here at any moment.”

David shrugged out of his tux jacket and tossed it on one of the chairs. “He's here.”

“What?”

“I saw how tired you were, and decided to pull you out of the casino,” he told her, tugging at one corner of his white tie.

Stunned, she stared at him. “But…but I…”

“No buts, Paige.” He dropped the tie on top of his tux. “The situation is too dangerous for you to muddle through with drooping eyelids and sagging shoulders.”

Stung, Paige recalled the knife-edged tension that had racked her during the interminable drive back to the hotel. The buckets of adrenaline that had pumped through her veins. The wild exultation at the thought that she, timid little Paige Lawrence, had actually been mistaken for someone like Meredith Ames.

“I thought I did a little better than muddle,” she retorted. “And you might have asked me if I was ready to leave before making a unilateral decision like that.”

Curbing both his impatience and his mounting need to crush
Paige in his arms, Doc slipped his Smith & Wesson Model 39 out of the holster at the small of his back. Specially bored and made with an alloy frame, the gun was light and flat and incredibly accurate. While Paige watched, wide-eyed, he checked to make sure a round was chambered, then laid the weapon aside.

In the little silence that followed, Doc walked over to the cabinet that housed the suite's bar. From his own years of experience, he knew she needed time to work the tension out of her system. Time to decompress after being plunged into an alien and unfamiliar world.

And he needed a drink badly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so tense, so wired, during an operation.

After following Paige into the casino, he'd taken a seat at one of the chemin de fer tables, which were set on a raised dais that gave an unobstructed view of the casino floor. Normally, Doc would've been able to engage one part of his mind in the complicated high-stakes card game while another kept track of his target.

Tonight, he'd found it impossible to concentrate on anything but Paige. He'd watched her every move as she wandered hesitantly through the casino. He'd counted every sip of champagne she took. He'd tensed at every male who looked at her with more than passing interest. And he'd just about lost it completely when one of the jet set's better-known perverts sauntered to her side.

She'd handled that little encounter well. Doc had to give her that. Still, the idea of Paige,
his
Paige, being exposed to a man like that made his gut twist.

Although, he thought savagely as he splashed a generous amount of cognac into a crystal snifter, she sure as hell didn't look much like his Paige tonight. Christ, that pink thing she had on had just about destroyed his ability to function at all. He'd felt himself harden when he first glimpsed her full, rounded breasts plumped up above that heart-shaped bodice and saw the shimmer of light on her pale, golden hair. What was more, he'd stayed hard as a rock most of the night. She'd looked so seduc
tive, yet so fragile, that it took all his control not to sweep her out of the casino and into his bed.

Which was what he intended to do. As soon as they settled a few things.

Turning, he held out the snifter. “Do you want a drink?”

When she shook her head, Doc took a long, satisfying swallow. Liquid heat curled in his stomach, fueling the tiny flames of desire he'd kept banked all afternoon and evening. He waited until the heat had distributed itself more evenly throughout his body, then dealt with Paige's indignation at his decision to pull her out of the casino.

“Let's review the bidding one more time,” he said evenly. “This isn't a committee. You don't get a vote on each course of action.”

She stiffened. “Is that so?”

“Yes, it is. You're in over your head here. Way over your head. I allowed you to continue the charade against my better judgment, but I'm not going to let you take any unnecessary risks.”

“You know, David, I'm discovering that you have a rather nasty autocratic streak under that protective layer of yours.”

“I do, where you're concerned.”

“I'm beginning to wonder just what other traits you've hidden from me these past months.”

Doc cradled the brandy snifter in one palm. This discussion had to come. He knew that. They hadn't been alone for more than a few moments since she'd stumbled into the suite this afternoon, half-naked and wholly wet. He hadn't had a chance to work through the desperate fear that had gripped him when he learned she'd been taken. Or the surging relief at her safe return. Or her sudden doubts over their marriage.