Hotbed Honey (9 page)

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Authors: Toni Blake

BOOK: Hotbed Honey
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"Hi," he said. His eyes practically twinkled with the new seclusion they shared.
She made herself smile back at him, look a bit coquettish. "Hi."
Carlo reached out and fingered the thin shoulder strap of her dress. "You're a beautiful woman, Kimberly."
This guy really had to work on his originality, she thought, but she forged ahead. "Why, Carlo, you're going to make Max jealous with all these compliments."
"They're all true," he said. "But Max doesn't matter."
Wow, he was quick. She put on her best innocent face. "Max doesn't matter?"
"I just mean … he's not here right now. It's just me and you."
She nodded, for lack of a better move.
He withdrew his fingers from beneath the strap of her dress and once again slid them to the thin diamond necklace she wore. "I'm still quite taken by this, Kimberly."
"Thank you, Carlo."
"Is all of your jewelry truly this exquisite?"
Okay, he was more than quick—he was a regular speed demon—but she took the opening. "As Max said at dinner, this is really just a smallish piece. My collection upstairs consists of much more elaborate jewels."
Carlo nodded, looking very attentive. "So you keep them on the premises. Is that safe?"
She wanted to laugh and wondered for the first time just how stupid these victimized couples had been. She could only guess that maybe they hadn't come across as totally inviting as she and Max. Or perhaps the wives were truly attracted to Carlo. Kimberly herself saw straight through him for the slime he was, but if you didn't, well, she could imagine the things he said and the way he touched so freely being intimidating.
"Well, they're in a safe in our bedroom so I hope they're secure enough," she said after a brief hesitation. "If I kept them in some silly safe-deposit box somewhere, it would be much harder to wear them, wouldn't it?"
She giggled and Carlo joined in her laughter, gently lowering a hand to her knee. She tensed at the touch, but didn't let it show. "Say," he began, "maybe while we're waiting for Max to finish with his call, you could show me some of your prized gems. Hearing you talk about them has intrigued me."
Nope, too soon. She and Max hadn't even begun to synchronize the theft yet, and anything could happen. She knew Max had suggested Carlo ask her to see the jewelry, but she also knew that had been bait not meant for tonight. "Oh, we've got plenty of time for that … now that you're staying," she told Carlo. When she sensed him getting ready to lean closer, she rose to her feet. "How about some brandy?"
"All right," he muttered, obviously annoyed with her sudden departure.
As she hurried to the bar across the room, he stood up and followed her. Jeez, he was a complete sleazeball.
Kimberly had familiarized herself with the liquor cabinet, so she pulled out a decanter half filled with brandy, along with two snifters. She poured one and handed it to him, and then poured another for herself. After recapping the decanter, she picked up her snifter and turned to find Carlo standing far too close for comfort.
"Let's toast," he said. "To diamonds. And to you. Two of the world's natural beauties."
* * *
Max leaned back in the big, dark leather chair in the study. He propped his feet on the desk and looked around. Built-in mahogany bookcases, housing old volumes with rich leather spines that he could smell, surrounded him. To his left, a huge picture window looked out on the front lawn. To his right, a framed map of the world hung on the wall.
If you had all this
, he thought, studying the map,
why would you need look any further?
Carlo's words came back to him.
And a wife like this to share it all with? You've got the life, pal.
Carlo had been right about that…
Wait a minute.
The last thing Max needed was a wife like Kimberly and he knew it. Sure, he didn't like seeing Carlo all over her, but that didn't mean he was ready to marry her. Or even engage in any relationship at all. There was one thing he didn't have with Kimberly that was a major relationship essential—trust.
He'd left her alone with Carlo strictly to give the guy the opportunity to start making his moves, start trying to lure her away from Max while he wasn't around to fawn over her. He kind of hated doing that, but he knew Kimberly could handle it. She'd been a quick study at the P.I. thing until she loused up the Carpenter case. And that wasn't a skills problem—it was ethics.
Skills, she had, which was good, because she'd need them to handle this creep. And Frank wouldn't have sent her if he'd had any doubts that she could do it. Max had to admit, she had become a good actress since he'd last seen her. Maybe a little
too
good. She'd been fine with being bait before, but he'd never cast her as anything like this—a sexy, ready kind of woman. She was pulling it off without a hitch. It irritated Max to know Carlo thought she really liked him.
What a guy, this Carlo. Frankly, he was worse than Max had expected. He kind of wanted to kill the jerk, thinking about how excited the guy had gotten watching Max kiss her, hoping to steal her at the same time. Oh well, at least they'd wasted not even a minute making sure Carlo viewed Kimberly in a sexual light. Not that Max liked him thinking of her that way.
Just why the hell was that again? His ego, he reminded himself. Just his ego.
"Mr. Tate?"
Max looked up from his thoughts to see Mrs. Leland leaning through the office doorway. He was glad for the distraction—he was starting to obsess over this situation and he didn't like it. "Yes, Mrs. Leland?"
"I've finished cleaning up dinner, so I'll be going now."
"All right. Thank you for letting me know."
She smiled. "Everything was to your liking?"
"Everything was wonderful."
"And your case. It goes well?"
"So far, so good," he told her. Then he lowered his feet to the floor and stood up. "I'll walk you out."
He'd used Mrs. Leland for such events before and had come to like the matronly woman. She cooked a great meal and he could see that, however timidly, she found it exciting to do work for a private investigator.
"Would you like me to tell the young lady good-night, and the other gentleman? I could thank her for giving me the weekend off while he's there."
Max smiled. He'd told Mrs. Leland that she should pretend to work here full-time if the question came up when she was serving dinner. "That won't be necessary," he replied. "I mentioned it to him in passing already, but thanks for thinking of it."
When they reached the door, he pulled out his wallet and pushed a fifty-dollar bill into her hand. She raised her gaze to him, clearly astonished. "What's this for? I'll be sending my regular invoice to your office."
He grinned. "A tip. For services well rendered." He liked watching her eyes light up, and added, "Put this toward Joey's college expenses." He suspected that extra jobs such as this one were important to Mrs. Leland's family. She did housekeeping and cooking for a couple he knew and her husband worked in a factory, but Max imagined it was probably hard to make ends meet with three kids, the oldest a freshman in college.
"Well, thank you, Mr. Tate," she said, still smiling. "Thank you very much."
He opened the massive front door to let her out. "Have a safe drive home, Mrs. Leland. I'll be calling you the next time we need a nice meal."
He stood at the door and watched her get in her car and drive away. Then he looked up at the sky, or more precisely, at the stars. You could see them here in the hills in much more abundance than from his place in the city. Too many lights in the city. Out here, it was easy to forget
L.A.
even existed. Warm night air swam around him and made him think,
Yep, I could get used to this.
Oh, he'd never have the bucks for a place this ornate. But a man didn't need such extreme luxuries to be happy. Once he'd thought he did. Getting rich in Vegas had started to make him a little greedy, hence his Porsche. Since he'd made the decision to get out of the field and just run the company, though, he'd done some practical thinking about what it took to be happy.
There was no sin in owning some nice things, but he'd started figuring out that he was happiest being a middle-of-the-road kind of guy. A beer-and-pretzels guy who drove a Porsche. A corner-bar guy who wore Armani suits to work. He was achieving a happy medium. Finding the right balance of everything he needed to feel good when he got up in the morning and went to bed at night. And life was looking pretty good at the moment.
And a wife like this to share it all with? You've got the life, pal.
Where had that thought come from?
But Max had no time to contemplate the answer because that's when Kimberly screamed.
Chapter 4
M
ax bolted toward the living room, ready to tear Carlo Coletti limb from sleazy limb.
To his surprise, he burst in only to find Carlo holding the stem of a broken glass, his shirt and jacket stained with dark liquid. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Carlo!" Kimberly said.
"What the hell happened?" Max asked.
They both looked up. "I'm so embarrassed," Kimberly said. "Carlo made a toast and I'm afraid I clinked our snifters too hard. I broke them both and got brandy all over poor Carlo."
Max's body flooded with relief, even though he could still feel his heart pounding against his ribs. Everything was okay here. Carlo wasn't attacking her. She wasn't hurt. Nothing was wrong.
"We'll have your clothes dry-cleaned, of course," she told Carlo as she bent to grab some small towels from a cabinet beneath the bar. Max was grateful she'd checked out the place so well and knew just where such things were kept.
She blotted a towel awkwardly against Carlo's chest, making Max cringe inside. Little snake. Even now, he was getting to have her touch him. Sort of, anyway. Thank God it was only sort of, or Max knew he'd be going crazy.
Max flinched. What was going on inside him? Why this crazed reaction to Kimberly doing her job?
Ego, ego, ego.
Just keep telling yourself that, buddy.
"Oh no," Carlo said then, "looks like the brandy splashed on you, too."
Max swung his gaze to Kimberly and saw that her chest was soaking wet … and Carlo was reaching for one of the dry towels.
No way, Max thought. No way in hell. He rushed forward and snatched the towel from Carlo's fist. "Darling," he said, "you really must be more careful." He tenderly pressed the towel against the low neckline of her dress, gently blotting the wetness.
He tensed when he felt her pull in her breath. He hadn't meant to startle her. He only wanted to protect her from Carlo.
Sorry
. He mouthed the word, his back to the slimy rat.
"It's all right." Her reply came in a breathy whisper.
Their gazes locked and he thought he saw passion in her eyes. Thought he felt her wanting him to touch her there, but without the towel. And he hoped he was wrong because this was no time for that. No time was the time for that. Not with them. Not anymore.
But her breasts were lush beneath him, the thin towel the only barrier between her flesh and his hands. The hell of it was that it would be easy to want her, so damn easy…
"Max," she said, loud enough that it shook him alert. "You'll need to get Carlo something else to wear."
"You're right," he replied, finally pulling the towel away from her and tossing it aside. "Why don't you go change, too, and I'll come with you and find something for Carlo."
"Sure," she said. Then she turned to Carlo, who once again had been ousted from a clandestine moment between Max and Kimberly and didn't look happy about it. "Relax and help yourself to something else in the liquor cabinet, Carlo."
As they exited the room, Max planted his hand at the small of Kimberly's back where her little black dress hugged her curves. But as they climbed the stairs, he thought back to her scream, and to the way it had run through him like a sword.

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