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By the time they’d finished with dessert, Risa had the name of her agent as well as a list of her most recent modeling jobs.

At the far end of the table, “Steven” had been seated to Carlo’s immediate right, and as far as she could tell, the conversation between the two men hadn’t flagged once.

Were she and Chance being tested—or was she just being paranoid? Natalie had always found that when she was doing undercover work, a little paranoia was a good thing. But hers had been increasing steadily from the moment she’d looked into Carlo Brancotti’s eyes that afternoon.

She was pretty sure that Chance was feeling the same way. She’d felt the tension in him escalate the moment they’d entered their suite. There’d been that urgent request that she lure him away from the party. And she’d sensed an even greater urgency when they’d made love. What did he need to tell her?

Whatever it was, he was willing to wait until they could be absolutely sure that no one was eavesdropping. So it was important, but not urgent.

The gathering at dinner had been small—under a dozen in all. Besides Sir Arthur and Lady Latham and the retired film star, there’d been two Japanese gentlemen, the Motos—

father and son. Natalie recognized them as the two men she’d seen playing tennis earlier in the day. She’d also been introduced to the Demirs, a distinguished-looking businessman and his wife from Turkey, and another man with very hard eyes—Armand Genovese.

Carlo’s personal assistant Lisa had rounded out the number. Though she wasn’t sure why, Natalie had expected more guests.

Once Carlo had led the way from the dining room to the conservatory for after-dinner drinks, the men had retired to the patio to sample some of his cigars. Natalie had toyed with the idea of joining them and insisting on sampling one herself, but had decided at the last moment that it wasn’t something that Calli would have done.

Instead, she joined the four other women as Lisa led them on a guided tour of the flowers growing in the conservatory. It wasn’t difficult to keep her expression awestruck as she admired more varieties of orchids than she’d ever seen. The fact was, she wasn’t finding it difficult at all to be Catherine Weston.

Maybe it was the fact that the woman was about as uncomplicated as they came. She’d come from nothing and her ticket to the big time in modeling was Steven Bradford.

Natalie Gibbs might not have gone about it the same way, but she could certainly admire Calli’s single-minded determination to make a different kind of life for herself.

After all, wasn’t that what she’d tried to do with her own life? For twenty-six years she’d lived with the fear that she was her father’s daughter—that she might be tempted to follow in his footsteps. She’d joined the D.C. police because she’d wanted to make sure that she satisfied her desire for adventure on the right side of the law.

And now as Calli she had the opportunity to have her cake and eat it, too. A diamond heist—it didn’t get much better than that.

She was even beginning to like the wardrobe that Chance had picked out for Calli. Natalie fingered the spaghetti straps that held up the silky white sheath she was wearing. Whether or not they made the man, clothes definitely made the woman. Each time she dressed in one of the outfits, she felt that she came to a deeper understanding of the part she was playing. Or perhaps, she was coming to a deeper understanding of herself.

When she’d slipped into the silky white dress that Chance had selected for her tonight, she’d instantly felt both beautiful and desirable. Natalie Gibbs rarely allowed herself to feel either of those ways.

But then the old Natalie would never have worn a dress that stopped at midthigh. Nor would she have thought of seducing a man twice in one day. No, three times. She had plans for that walk on the beach.

“It’s a lovely room, isn’t it?”

Natalie turned to smile at Sir Arthur’s wife, Lady Latham. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

The glass walls and ceiling of the conservatory allowed a view of a starlit sky, and the air was scented with exotic flowers and candle wax. A small band tucked in a corner and surrounded by potted palms was playing a movie theme she couldn’t quite place.

“But you’re missing your young man?”

Natalie smiled. “A bit.”

“Carlo is European and old-fashioned. He still honors an old tradition that men and women separate for a time after dinner. That is not the case in America, am I correct?”

“Yes, that is not the case in America.”

Lady Latham smiled at her. “Well, maybe you were right to fight for your independence.

But don’t tell Sir Arthur I said that.”

Natalie pantomimed locking her lips and then throwing away the key. She was beginning to like Lady Latham very much.

“You ought to go out there and lure your Steven away. A man with someone like you doesn’t need imported cigars or the poker game that Carlo will entice them into next.”

Natalie studied the woman for a minute. Though she was well into her sixties, she could see that Lady Latham must have been quite a beauty in her day. The smile she saw in the pale gray eyes looked sincere. “I promised Steven to be on my best behavior tonight. He wants to conclude his business with Carlo as quickly as possible.”

Lady Latham’s brows shot up. “There won’t be any business done until tomorrow or the next day. Hassam Aldiri’s plane was delayed, and he won’t arrive until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. Carlo will wait for him. Hassam has a lot of money. Even if he decides that he doesn’t want the diamond, I doubt that Carlo will want to offend him.”

“Well…in that case.” Flashing Lady Latham a conspiratorial smile, she moved toward the doors she’d seen the men exit through earlier. The night air was warm in spite of the breeze from the ocean, but one quick glance told her that the patio was empty. Hurrying toward the balustrade that separated it from the sprawl of gardens below, she caught sight of the men seated at tables in a small candlelit gazebo.

“I understand Steven has a weakness for poker.”

Natalie pressed a hand to her heart as she turned to face Carlo. She hadn’t heard him approach. “Yes, he can never resist a game. How did you know?”

“I make it a point to get to know the people I do business with.”

Though she couldn’t see his eyes as clearly as she had earlier, Natalie felt the intensity of his gaze. “I was hoping to lure him away for a walk on the beach.”

Carlo held out his arm. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to stand in for him?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Natalie said with a shy smile. “I had more than walking in mind.”

“Ah.” Lifting a hand, he drew a finger down her cheek. “I would be delighted to be his substitute for that also.”

“Oh no. I could
never
…” She and Chance had discussed the possibility that Carlo would make a move on her, but she hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

For a moment he said nothing. Natalie waited. She was pretty sure that Carlo Brancotti was not a man who accepted rejection easily. This might blow her chance of ever getting that private tour. Finally, she saw the quick flash of his smile. “I admire loyalty. It’s a precious commodity.”

Natalie eased away a step so that he was forced to withdraw his hand. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate Carlo Brancotti, but she had no choice except to react to the situation the way she believed that Catherine Weston would react. “I don’t want to interrupt Steven’s game, so I think I’ll retire to my room,” she said.

“I apologize if I offended you. I want you to feel perfectly comfortable and enjoy your stay here.” He smiled again and held out his hand. “Could we, as you Americans say, wipe the slate clean and begin again?”

“Sure.” She put her hand in his and felt the warm press of his palm before he released hers.

When she turned to go back into the conservatory, he placed a hand on her arm. “Please. I will feel that I have failed as a host if you retire so early. How about if I offer you a tour of the gardens or the house—or both?”

Natalie hesitated, then smiled. “I’d love to see both. Steven has a couple of great homes—a ranch and a house he just built outside of L.A.—but I’ve never seen anything like this place. How old is it?”

“It’s relatively new.” He didn’t touch her but merely held his hand out to indicate the direction. “I bought the house from a Saudi Prince two years ago, but the gardens are new.

Flowers are my passion.”

“I admire anyone who can grow things,” she said enthusiastically as he guided her down a circular stair. “Not that I have a green thumb. I don’t. But I love flowers.”

“It’s a passion that we share then,” Carlo said as he urged her toward a door beneath the stairs. “Shall we start with the house and save the best until last?”

10

CHANCE HELD
three royal ladies in his hand, but the woman who held his attention wasn’t in the cards he’d been dealt. She was standing on the patio talking to Carlo Brancotti. And she could handle herself. Wasn’t that the reason he’d been so determined to get Natalie Gibbs for this job?

“Are you in, Mr. Bradford?”

Silently cursing himself, Chance glanced back down at his cards.

Natalie was focused on the job. He was the one who was allowing himself to be distracted.

The truth was that whenever he made love to her he became so drawn into the moment that he almost forgot that he was here to do a job. When he glanced back up at the patio, it was empty.

Chance ruthlessly suppressed the mix of panic and anger that tangled in his stomach.

Natalie had made her plan clear. She was going to persuade Carlo to give her a tour.

Obviously, the plan was working.

But Venetia had been following a plan, too.

“Are you in or out?” Armand Genovese’s voice was thin with impatience.

“Give me a minute.” Chance tore his gaze away from the patio and found four pairs of eyes staring at him. What he read in them ran the gamut from annoyance and mild curiosity to speculation and amusement. It was the speculation that bothered him the most because it came from Sir Arthur Latham, the man he suspected would report his every move to Carlo.

Get a grip,
he warned himself. He could hardly throw down his cards and go running after Natalie. One of Steven Bradford’s weaknesses was poker. He had a group of friends, ones who went back to the founding of his company, that he regularly played with. Chance had to believe that Brancotti’s dossier on Bradford would have included that little known piece of information. So he could only conclude that the poker game had been arranged to keep

“Steven” occupied and separated from “Calli” for the evening.

“Mr. Bradford?” The question came from the Turkish man who was also clearly annoyed.

“I think that Mr. Bradford may be thinking of other ways that he could be spending the evening,” Sir Arthur said. “And I can’t say that I blame him.”

Chance pushed a pile of chips into the center. “I’m in.”

For the rest of the hand, he kept his attention focused on the game. Natalie was doing her job. If he wanted to keep her safe, all he had to do was concentrate on doing his.

“YOU DID SAVE the best for last,” Natalie said as Carlo led the way down a winding path bordered on either side by jewel-colored flowers.

“You delight me. Most women are more impressed with the main salon or the gallery,”

Carlo said.

“They were lovely, too. But the paintings in the gallery made it seem more like a…museum.” She sent him an apologetic smile. “I’m not much on museums.”

As they continued down the path, Natalie reviewed the tour Carlo had just given her in her mind. He’d taken her through all of the rooms on the first floor—except for one that had a coded access pad. His workspace, he’d said as he’d guided her past it. Then for the length of a long hallway, he hadn’t spoken. Natalie suspected that he was waiting for her to ask to see it. She hadn’t. Instead, she’d stopped to “ooh” and “aah” over a marble-topped table with a mosaic inlay.

Gut instinct told her she was still being tested. Did he suspect that she wasn’t the real Calli or was he always this careful?

The main salon took up the entire first floor in the wing opposite the conservatory. Marble floors gleamed, mirrored walls caught the reflections of carved pillars and crystal chandeliers. French doors opened onto patios with a view of the ocean. Natalie had spotted at least two surveillance cameras.

“The masquerade ball will be held in here tomorrow night,” Carlo had said. “Who will you come as?”

Natalie had realized that she didn’t know so she’d shot him a flustered look. “I can’t tell you that. Steven says the whole point of a masquerade is that no one knows who you are.

For one night you get to be someone else entirely with no consequences.”

“How will I find you?” Carlo had asked. “All I would ask for is a dance.”

Hoping for the best, Natalie had allowed herself to remain a bit flustered. “I really can’t tell you. Steven hasn’t even told
me
what costumes he brought.”

Carlo had laughed. “You’re charming. Steven is a very lucky man. But I will still try to figure out who you are.”

Which wouldn’t be much of a challenge, Natalie had thought. She’d spotted two cameras in the hallways, and Carlo would see them leaving the Venetian room in whatever they were wearing.

“I do love playing games. I believe your Steven does too,” Carlo had said as he’d taken her arm and drawn her back to the main hall. “Come, I want to show you something.”