Sweet Reward (26 page)

“Has Noah learned anything more about those deaths? The fire at the spa or the car accident?”

“Not yet. I told him you mentioned it to Ricard. He suggested you keep those questions to a minimum.”

She nodded. “Definitely. Asking him about it last night seemed natural, since it just happened. Going any further with it will seem strange.”

Jared stretched his long legs out and leaned back in his chair. “So let’s go over what he told you last night.”

She scraped up the last of her omelet and grinned up at him. “You’ve been holding out on me. You’re a good cook.”

Stupid to feel so pleased by a compliment. Still, he couldn’t help the glow of pride that spread through him. Considering all the idiotic things he’d said to Mia, having her approval made him feel as though he’d achieved something phenomenal.

He shrugged. “Eggs are all I do.”

“Then you do the eggs for breakfast and I’ll take care of the rest of the meals.”

That sounded way too much like some sort of arrangement. They were together to solve a case. The sex was a by-product—enjoyable, but still a by-product of spending so much time together.

He gave her a quick glance. Was she changing her mind about their relationship? Seemed improbable after he’d been such an ass. The wry grin on her face gave him a good warning of her next words.

“Relax. It’s food … not marriage.”

The fact that she’d read him bothered him, but knowing she wasn’t looking for any permanence was such a relief that he let the other concern go. Besides, Mia was one of the most perceptive people he’d ever met. Maybe it was natural that she could read him. Most of the women he’d been involved with had taken everything at face value; Mia looked for undercurrents.

Jared stood. “I’ll go get last night’s recording. Rehearing it might help you remember his facial expressions or pick up oddities in his speech patterns you didn’t notice last night.”

Mia rose from her chair and started clearing the table. “Won’t take me a minute to clean up.”

“I can do that later.”

She set the dishes back on the table. “Okay.”

Surprised that she hadn’t argued, Jared went after the recording. He was beginning to think that Mia might be a harder person to read than he’d first thought. Her emotions always seemed to be on the surface, and she said whatever she wanted to. This cool, controlled Mia bothered him.

As Mia settled onto the sofa in the living room to wait for Jared, she was torn between laughing at his confusion
and crying because of what he’d done. She was beginning to see that the best way to deal with him was to keep him slightly off balance. The man was way too controlled and arrogant.

She had honestly and stupidly expected a verbal apology for his nastiness last night. But she could see that
that
wasn’t going to happen. Instead of an apology, she’d gotten an omelet and an e-reader. As omelets went, it had been delicious. As apologies went, it’d been tasteless. The e-reader? Okay, she was secretly thrilled with it, but she would still have preferred an apology.

She told herself it didn’t matter. Once this case was over and she was back in Chicago, she’d remember the good things about this odd and wonderful relationship and forget the bad. That was the way things worked. The hurt would fade. Bad memories dimmed and good memories stayed … it was something she’d worked most of her adult life to achieve. This should be no different.

Jared returned with the small tape recorder; thankfully, he’d thrown a shirt on, too. Concentration wasn’t usually a problem for her, but even as frustrated as she was with him, that hard, bare chest was a distraction she didn’t need.

“How’d the microphone do?” She had worn the watch he’d given her on Monday night. It’d been elegant enough to go with her dress, which had been a relief, since the other jewelry with microphones had most definitely not been designed for Armani.

“You tell me.” He pressed the Play button, and the first voice she heard was Philippe’s telling her how beautiful she looked.

As she listened to their conversation, she watched Jared’s expression. Every time Philippe said anything remotely suggestive, his jaw tightened. She knew better than to think it had anything to do with possessiveness. In his
opinion, Philippe was a sleaze. Listening to Mia, or any woman, having to endure his attentions was disgusting. It was nothing more than that.

She sat up at a sudden oddity in Philippe’s tone. “Rewind that.”

Mia remembered that part of the conversation well. They’d been talking about the different places each of them had traveled to in the past year, and she had deliberately mentioned a few choice locations.

Jared backed the tape up and they listened carefully:

“I was in Chicago, Illinois, a couple of months ago. The crime there has become appalling.”

“I rarely go to the U.S. anymore,”
Philippe said.
“Just too dangerous.”

“Oh, but it’s not just the U.S. I was in Copenhagen not long ago. It seemed every day there were reports of kidnappings or people going missing
 … 
some were even children.”

Philippe swallowed and said,
“I try not to listen to the news. I swear, they must make up half the things they report on, just to make it more scintillating.”

Mia switched off the recorder and looked at Jared. “Did you hear the tone of his voice change?”

“Yeah, and the nervous swallow, too.”

“I backed off after that. Figured if I mentioned any other places, that’d be too obvious.”

Jared nodded and flipped the recorder back on. The rest of their lengthy conversation and much too long evening became one monotonous monologue of Philippe’s accomplishments. She’d never met anyone so impressed with himself. It wasn’t until the end of the date, when he was depositing her in front of her building, that things got a little uncomfortable.

“I have an extra hour or so if you’d like to continue this fascinating discussion in your apartment.”

Mia had almost choked on the cognac he’d insisted she sip to take the chill off the frigid night. His definition of “fascinating” definitely differed from hers.

And that’s when he’d put his hand on her knee and slid it up her dress. The cognac had traveled back up her throat and reemerged in her mouth with appalling bitterness. She’d taken his hand, held it lightly, and scrambled for the right thing to say. Words that would discourage this kind of advance but also let him know his attention was not unwelcome.

“I have an early appointment tomorrow, but I’d love to see you tomorrow night
 … 
if you’re not too busy.”

There’d been just the slightest pique in his expression before he said,
“Dinner tomorrow night. Seven o’clock.”

“Sounds wonderful. I’d love to!”

Fortunately, the delight she’d exuded had soothed his ruffled feelings. She’d quickly gotten out of the limo, but not before he’d gone for a kiss. She’d moved so fast, he’d missed her lips and gotten her chin. Then he’d laughed and told her she didn’t have to be nervous with him.

She’d finally escaped the car and hurried into the lobby, almost afraid that he’d change his mind and follow her inside, continuing the unpleasantness. Thankfully, he hadn’t. However, the greeting she’d received when she had walked into her apartment hadn’t been exactly pleasant, either.

Jared quickly clicked the Stop button before that conversation could play. “About last night … you do know he’s going to try to sleep with you, don’t you?”

It wasn’t an apology, but at least it wasn’t an accusation, either. Perhaps they could discuss this rationally.

“I’ll put him off as much as I can.”

“And when he can’t be put off anymore?”

She huffed out an exasperated breath. “I don’t plan to sleep with him, Jared. Do you think he’s the only man
who’s ever tried to have sex with me, or do you just think I sleep with everyone who makes a pass at me?”

The glare in his eyes told her the temper was there, but he answered in a reasonable tone. “I’m sure there are a lot of men who’ve wanted to sleep with you that you weren’t interested in. And I won’t even dignify the last part of your question with a response. However, this might be the first man you’ve tried to get information from who wanted to sleep with you. How are you going to continue to put him off?”

That was something she was going to have to work out. Philippe had been much more forward than he’d been years ago. Though that might have been because they’d been much younger and he’d been a whole lot less arrogant, she had a feeling there was more to it than that. Was he perhaps in the market for a wife? If so, couldn’t she play on that? Lead him on to get even closer but stay out of his bed, too?

A bark of rusty laughter brought her head up. “What?”

“From that look on your face, I’d say Philippe Ricard won’t know what hit him when you’re finished with him.”

Stupid really, but she suddenly wanted to kiss him. In a few hours she would be back with Philippe, listening to him toot his own horn. But just for a few moments, she wanted to spend some time with the man who alternately fascinated and infuriated her.

She got to her feet and held out her hand to him. He didn’t ask what she wanted … just pulled her into his arms. Mia tugged his head down, and Jared did the rest. Sighing into his mouth, she gave herself up to the incredible sensations this man created in her. When this case was over, these moments would be just memories. Why that thought hurt her chest, she refused to consider. All she knew was that she wanted to create as many of these moments as she could.

Mia lay in bed, listening to the sounds of Jared preparing breakfast. This had become their routine over the last week. Seven days of working undercover to discover if Philippe Ricard was a sleaze and guilty of what they suspected. So far, she had nothing to show for it except dark circles beneath her eyes and a couple of blisters on her feet.

The dinner dates were exhausting. Even if she wasn’t trying to uncover Philippe’s secrets, dressing to the nines and going out every night wasn’t the lifestyle she enjoyed. An occasional dinner out was made special because of its rarity.

Back home, her lifestyle was active and full. She had several close friends she could call at a moment’s notice to go white-water rafting or skydiving, grab a burger, or see a movie. Those were the activities she enjoyed. Sitting in an elegant restaurant being treated as if she were royalty and listening to inane babble was much more tiring than all of those other activities put together.

Philippe had wined and dined her every night. They’d had their photographs taken by all the paparazzi in Paris. Everywhere they went, so did the press. On their third date, Mia began to suspect that someone was tipping the press off. No one, except perhaps a president or prime minister, could command that much attention. Not even the famous Philippe Ricard.

On their fifth date, it was confirmed. They’d just gotten out of the limo when a photographer shouted something at Philippe and he bent down and kissed her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Her first instinct had been to jump away from him, but that had been impossible. He was putting on a show, and she was part of his act. So she’d smiled and tried to look both excited and flustered by the kiss. She’d apparently played it well, because
he’d given her a delighted smile and had tightened his arm around her waist as they had entered the restaurant.

So, the question was, why was he showing her off so much? The answer was obvious, if disturbing. The man was out to show the world that he had a serious relationship going.

And still they had learned very little from him. Each night, she tried to steer him in the direction of the foundation, and though he definitely enjoyed talking about it, his stories still somehow revolved around him and his accomplishments.

Staying clear of Philippe’s more amorous moves hadn’t been as difficult as she’d thought it would be. Oh, he still wanted to kiss each night, and she’d had no choice but to allow that, but he never tried to take it any further.

She had the distinct impression that Philippe had a timeline and planned to stick to it. So many dates, so many chaste kisses, and then on to something more serious. The question was, could she get what she needed before they reached the next level on his timetable?

After dinner each evening, she returned to her apartment and to Jared. Not since that first night of extreme crudeness had he done or said anything unkind. He’d actually been a huge comfort. After the second date, she had come home and dropped her clothes on the floor. Without a word, he had picked her up and taken her to the bathroom, where he’d drawn her a hot bath filled with fragrant bubbles.

Each night since, he had repeated the same kindness. She never mentioned it and he never said anything, but she had a feeling he understood that her need to remove Philippe’s touch was of extreme importance.

After her bath, she would crawl into bed and Jared
would hold her. They rarely talked; he would kiss her good night, and they’d fall asleep. The next morning, they would make love. Then, while they ate breakfast, they’d listen to the recording of her night out with Philippe.

The entire situation had become a routine. Not a comfortable one, nor one that could continue. Something had to break. And soon. Mia just hoped to hell it was something in their favor.

The girl walked aimlessly through the store, her distraction obvious. She had appeared on his radar last week. A friend had steered him in her direction. A young, single mother of an infant, she waitressed at a diner during the day, and three nights a week, she worked at a strip joint, serving drunks. The girl was broke, thin to the point of emaciation, and so obviously exhausted he’d seen her stumble a couple of times. She had no help or family support; she took the baby with her everywhere. The boy was only about four months old and seemed perfectly content to be hauled around. It was obvious her life would be better without the kid. And the kid would be better off with a family that wanted him. She was his perfect prey.