Sweet Reward (25 page)

Yes, he’d heard the interest in Philippe’s voice. Big damn deal. Any man with eyes would find Mia attractive. And those who didn’t have eyes would be charmed by her husky, feminine voice or the grace that just seemed to be a natural part of her. Philippe Ricard, baby seller and possible murderer or not, would be no different.

Pacing up and down Mia’s living room, Jared tried to come to grips with this new direction she’d obviously decided to take. It was out there; there was no withdrawing her intentions now. A rational part of his brain, so small at this point in his anger, told him it was the right path to take. Being intimate would open up doors they hadn’t thought to get through. Problem was, it might well open up a bedroom door. Would Mia pursue it that far?

No. He wouldn’t let her. Forget the fact that he had no claim to her and couldn’t tell her who she could and couldn’t sleep with; he was in charge of this op. If he told her she couldn’t do it, she damn well better listen or she was out. He’d made that clear the other night. Follow my orders.

The coffee in his mug had grown cold; he dumped it into the sink and poured himself another large dose. He swallowed more of the bitter brew and paced as he continued to listen to the crap Philippe fed Mia—and her seemingly awed interest in every boring bit of minutiae he spouted. The rational voice whispered again that this wasn’t any easier for Mia. She was the one having to listen
to this shit; he was just a bystander until the time came for action.

He fell back into his chair, took another slug of coffee, and then sprang to his feet again. What would he do if Philippe tried to take it further tonight? Was he going to stand here and listen to her being pawed and kissed by this narcissistic creep?

And then the voice of reason punched him hard—a voice that sounded surprisingly like Mia’s. She was a trained professional, and she was his partner. He had to trust her. She would know how far to push Philippe, and she could handle herself.

Jared set the still-full coffee mug on the kitchen counter; the caffeine was only making it worse. He returned to the living room and the chair he’d sprung from. Clenching his teeth with an unnamed fury, he listened … he waited. He endured.

   The restaurant was a new one and apparently very exclusive. There were only five tables, and each elegantly set table had three attendants. Mia knew that if she dropped the slightest crumb, one of the three men standing close to their table would be on it in a flash. Eating in a fishbowl was not her idea of an entertaining evening.

Philippe seemed to see nothing wrong with either the service or the extraordinary deference being paid to him. The man who’d shown them to their table had practically drooled, and as crazy as it seemed, Mia wouldn’t have been completely surprised if the guy had kissed Philippe’s hand when he left them there.

Each course placed before her fit the restaurant perfectly: small, elegant, and pretentious. Mia took the second and last bite of her chateaubriand and wished she were sitting across from Jared at a fast food restaurant, eating a cheeseburger and greasy fries.

“You know it takes up to a year, sometimes longer, to get reservations at this restaurant.”

Philippe’s need to awe her was wearing thin. Yes, she knew he had money up the wazoo and that he wielded immense influence. But his hammering it into her with every other sentence had given her a pain in her head and her neck.

With a smile indicating nothing of her thoughts, she said, “And I only called to meet you a few days ago. You have amazing influence.” She thought about adding an eye flutter too, but she was willing to spew only so much syrup at one time.

If he puffed out his chest any farther, she figured his shirt buttons would pop. She knew she was taking a risk bringing up a serious subject when he seemed so intent on wooing her, but maybe he would look at it as a way to impress her with his kind heart for those less fortunate. She’d set up this scenario to get information. It was time to see what could be gleaned.

“I was so sorry to hear about the death of your employees. What a blow that must be for your foundation.”

As she had hoped, Philippe latched onto the opportunity. “We’re devastated, of course. Every employee at the Ricard Foundation is so important. Their deaths left us with not only a hole in the running of the foundation’s daily endeavors but also a hole in our hearts. Losing one employee is painful, but three so close together …” He trailed off, obviously overcome with his fake grief.

“Three?” she asked, to see how he would explain the deaths. She wanted to watch his face. She was trained to detect lies in other people. Surely, if it was there, she would see behind Philippe’s façade to the evil that lurked within.

“Why, yes. Another employee, their supervisor, was on his way to the press conference when he had a car accident and died.”

“How incredibly tragic.”

Philippe nodded. “It’s our hope that we can establish a fund for them and do even greater works in their name. I know it’s what they would have wanted.”

Pretty damn impressive to get rid of three employees and make money off it, too. And his lying was damn impressive, as well. Only the slightest dilation of his pupils and then a small twitch on one side of his lip indicated that there was much more to this than two seemingly unrelated tragic events. What could these people have found out that had cost them their lives?

Even now, she could imagine Jared pacing the floor, listening to and evaluating every nuance of Philippe’s speech. She couldn’t wait to get home and talk to him.

She had been naïvely expecting a check to be presented for their meal, but when Philippe said, “Are you ready to continue our night?” she realized that handing a bill to someone as important as this man would be considered gauche. Payment would be made, but not in public.

Devising an excuse to get home to Jared sooner was a temptation, but one she couldn’t take. This was an op; this was her job. With a silent sigh, Mia took the hand Philippe held out for her and gave him a shyly seductive look. “There’s nothing I’d rather do.”

   Before the key clicked in the lock, Jared knew she was on her way up to the apartment. Philippe hadn’t bothered to escort her to her door. The man already knew he wouldn’t be spending the night, so why exert himself?

The door pushed open, and she was there. As beautiful and sexy as any cover model but with a girl-next-door cuteness that did something strange to his chest. She leaned against the closed door, the breath of exasperation she huffed out disturbing the wisps of hair framing her face. “I thought the night would never end.”

“Looks like you got yourself a new boyfriend.”

She grimaced and kicked off her shoes. Padding lightly across the hardwood in her bare feet, she tugged at the zipper on the side of her dress as she came toward him. “That wasn’t exactly in the cards, but it’ll work out better this way.”

Just because he agreed with her didn’t mean he liked it. “And it could get even more dicey if he finds out you’re playing him.”

“He won’t. By the time he realizes it, we’ll have the information we need.”

“Are you going to sleep with him?”

“That’s not the plan.”

“But you will if you have to?”

A smile curved her mouth. “Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be stupid. Who or what you choose to have sex with is your business. Just give me notice beforehand. Listening to you fuck someone else is not my idea of a good time.”

She froze for several seconds and considered him. He knew he’d been deliberately crude and cruel. Why he was pushing her like this he couldn’t say, and part of him knew he deserved at the very least a slap in the face.

Though her smile had disappeared, she reacted with the class he knew she’d been born with. “I’ll be sure to give you advance notice.” Her shoulders slumped as if she were suddenly exhausted. “I think I’ll go on to bed. We can talk about the case in the morning.”

Words stuck in his throat as she turned away from him and disappeared into her bedroom. Being an ass was as natural to him as breathing was to other people. Mia knew what he was … she had known what she was getting into when they started working together. Just because they were sleeping together didn’t mean he’d changed.
Once an ass, always an ass. That was simply who he was. A fact of life that he’d just confirmed once more.

He stared at the closed bedroom door for several seconds, then checked his watch: only ten-thirty. Late for many places, but not too late for Paris. With one last glance toward the bedroom, Jared grabbed his jacket and keys and walked out the door.

Mia woke the next morning surrounded by warmth. Arms enveloped her and held her close against a hot, hard body. Always a light sleeper, she had known the moment Jared came to bed. No words had been exchanged. She’d just snuggled into his embrace and returned to sleep.

Though she’d slept well, she had gone to bed hurt. Jared’s boorish behavior had not only been unwarranted; the deliberateness of it held a cruelty that was over the top. He’d gone out of his way to hurt her, and that bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

Having heard him leave the apartment last night, she hadn’t been sure when he would return. His walking out the door after having behaved so badly had seemed like a final cap on the night. For him to come back said something about him … didn’t it? Or was that just her wishful thinking?

Mia knew the moment he woke. His arms tightened around her, and his morning erection poked her bottom. If he thought a bout of sex after being such an ass last night was going to happen, she would quickly show him differently.

He loosened his embrace and rolled her over onto her back. She looked up at him—tousled hair, slumberous eyes, beard stubble, and sensuous male lips—and felt her resolve weaken. Why did he have to be so adorably rumpled-looking?

Lowering his head, he gave her plenty of time to pull away. When she didn’t move, he whispered a soft kiss on her mouth. She’d barely had time to respond when he lifted his head and said, “I make a damn good Denver omelet. Stay here and I’ll bring it to you.”

Before she could say anything, he’d jumped out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Three odd things struck her as the bathroom door clicked shut. First, he hadn’t tried to seduce her with sex, though the erection he’d been sporting told her he was more than up to the task. Second, Jared had never before offered to make a meal for her. And third, he was going to bring her breakfast in bed.

Part of her wanted to call him back to the bedroom so they could discuss last night. The other part told her to wait it out to see what happened next. She chose to wait. Time would tell if she’d made the right decision. But there was something in his demeanor that gave her pause for thought.

Before she could ponder it further, Jared came back into the bedroom. Barefoot and dressed in a pair of faded jeans and again no shirt, he was heart-stoppingly sexy. Mia sank back onto the pillows with a sigh. She was so screwed.

His face implacable once more, he said, “I’ll get breakfast, and then we need to go over word for word what we learned last night.”

Jared waited for a reply, and when she just nodded solemnly, silently, he began to wonder. Any minute now, he expected her to tell him he was an asshole and she’d just as soon work with the devil himself as continue with him. When she just kept looking at him, he decided to take her not telling him to go to hell as a positive sign and headed to the kitchen.

Cooking breakfast wasn’t a new thing for him. He was
thirty-four years old and had been making his own breakfast for years. Eggs were about his only specialty, though. Anything else he wanted to eat, he either opened up a can or went out. He’d never forgotten those days when his belly gnawed at itself like a wild thing, empty and desperate; anything he’d put in his stomach had been better than having nothing at all. Bottom line: he wasn’t picky about his meals. If it filled him up, that was good enough for him.

Mia came into the kitchen just as he gave her omelet a last flip. Sliding it onto a plate, he dropped a couple pieces of toast beside it and put it on the table. “I was going to bring it to you.”

She scrunched up her nose in a cute grimace. “I spent months in the hospital eating breakfast in bed. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I prefer my feet on the floor and no crumbs on my sheets.”

Hard to believe she’d actually almost died as a teenager. Not only that, she’d had to relearn motor skills that most people took for granted. The way she had described the experience, so matter-of-fact and without a trace of bitterness, told a lot about the kind of person she was. Mia was a survivor.

He poured her a cup of coffee and set it in front of her, along with a rectangular box.

She glanced at his gift, then looked up at him. “What’s this?”

“Open it.”

With a puzzled expression, she ripped into the box and pulled out a leather-bound book-shaped object.

“When I was at your house, I saw that you had a lot of books and figured you liked to read. That’s an e-reader.” When she still said nothing, he finished lamely, “I thought you might like it.”

The glow on her face and the brilliance of her smile
made him feel as though he’d just cured world hunger. She said softly, “Thank you, Jared.”

He poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down across from her. “It’s no big deal.” Taking a large gulp from his cup, he swallowed and said, “I phoned McCall last night. He agrees with the direction you took on Ricard. Playing up a romance, as opposed to the charity ruse, is a better angle.”

Mia caressed the leather cover of the e-reader one last time and then returned to her breakfast. “I’ve met some egotistical men before, but nothing like Philippe. I think he’d become much more suspicious of my interest in running a charity than he would of my interest in him as a potential husband.” Her shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Wish I’d thought of that before.”

“Actually, I think this plays out well. He probably thinks you used the ruse to get his interest. He’ll be flattered.”