The Art Of Deception, Book Two, Stolen Hearts series, Romantic Suspense (8 page)

“Men in my life?”

“Gage called me into his office this morning to answer some questions.”

A shiver sent tight, little ripples skittering over her skin. “Gage?”

“Ever been there? To his office?” He peered over the top of the grocery bag. “It’s different. Impressive. Man, those people are busy.”

“I haven’t seen Gage for a couple of weeks.”

“Huh. He gave me a stern talking to. Said I should check up on you more. Do the big brother thing, that sort of stuff." He wiggled his eyebrows. “The guy’s got the hots for you, sis."

“He’s married." She turned and went into the kitchen.

Raphael followed her. “No way.”

“His wife phoned that time he came to my studio. Told him to get home to take care of their son." She shoved the bag of groceries on the table.

“That sucks the big one. I could have sworn that guy was on the up and up.”

In his own way, she suspected Gage was a straightforward man. Just not when it came to women. “What kind of questions did he ask you?”

Raphael dug into the bag he’d set on the counter and pulled out a bottle of wine. “Routine stuff. Where did I live? What did I do for a living? Get the corkscrew, will you?”

“It went okay, then?”

He looked up from peeling the plastic away from the cork. “Sure. Why wouldn’t it?”

“No reason." She tossed him the corkscrew from the drawer beside her. Heaven knows, she’d prayed there wasn’t a reason to worry about her brother. “So, what’s with the groceries?”

“Ah, the other man in your life. Ciro chewed me out because I haven’t been around much lately. Is everything okay, Sophie?” He studied her face. “He said you were feeling kind of down. Rain getting to you or something?”

Ciro had been in one of his super sweet moods all week. He’d stopped by twice to cook her supper, and had dragged her out to a play a third night.

“A solid week of rain is enough to get anyone down. Ciro told you to buy me groceries?”

He shrugged and pulled the cork out of the wine bottle. “He said he’d been by a couple of times, and that you were low on food. You’re going to the reception tonight, right?”

“Think I can get out of it?” When Raphael offered her a glass of wine, she pulled her hand away from her earlobe–the same earlobe Gage had bitten almost two weeks to the day right here in her kitchen.

Every time she came into the damned room since, her body tightened in funny little ways, and she could swear she still smelled him. Not his aftershave, but him--Gage--the man.

“Not unless you want Mother to descend on you like the furies from hell." He checked his watch. “You better get ready.”

She set her wine glass on the table, then slipped her hand in her rear pocket and curled her fingers around the folded note. It would be stupid not to tell someone about the threats.

Just as she pulled the sheet of paper out, Ciro’s voice boomed from the living room. “Party time."

She shoved the paper back as Ciro appeared at the kitchen door. He swooped her into his arms and picked her up off her feet, turning them both in a circle. “How’s my little chickie tonight?” He nuzzled her neck, then put her down and wagged his finger at her. “Mama Pascotto will skin you alive if you turn up at her reception wearing those old jeans.”

Sophie giggled. Mama Pascotto, indeed. Her mother was a lot of things, but maternal wasn’t one of them.

“Ohh, wine." Ciro grabbed her full wine glass and handed it to her. “Let’s have a toast, and then Raphael and I will discuss manly things while our little beauty prepares herself for the evening."

They all laughed as he poured himself a glass and held it up. “To friends and adventures.”

As she clinked her glass against theirs, the heavy cloud that had hung over her for the last two weeks disappeared. Thank God for good friends.

Gage halted at the threshold of Moira Pascotto’s crowded art gallery and scowled. Sophie, wearing some kind of slippery, slinky dress that changed colors when she moved, placed her empty wine glass on the table beside her and grabbed a full one, then laughed up at the dark, good looking man talking to her.

A dark, good looking man who just happened to be his boss, Parker. Damn. She’d probably been the kind of kid who jumped into the deep end of the pool every damned time.

He stepped in her direction, but someone curled their fingers around his wrist.

“Darling, you’re not going to leave me on my own already, are you?”

One glimpse. One freaking glimpse of Sophie, and he’d forgotten about the foxy lady who’d graciously agreed at the eleventh hour to go out with him. Was he nuts?

He slipped his arm around Elaine Logan’s slender waist and smiled into her anxious green eyes. “Of course not. That’s my boss over there. I should say hello." He nodded toward Sophie and Parker.

“Should I go with you?” Her dark red fingernails dug into the sleeve of his tan sports coat.

For a few short months last year those long fingernails had been an unbelievable turn on. The sex had been great, but Elaine’s inability to make the smallest decision without his input had driven him crazy.

But the sex had been great. Hold that thought. He patted Elaine’s hand and led her across the room toward the table where Sophie had polished off another glass of wine and was starting on her third. At least, he hoped it was only her third.

Parker had a fox-cornering-the-chicken look on his face. He probably thought he’d solved the case just from listening to Sophie chatter on. Who knows, maybe Parker had, but Gage didn’t think so. He had this worrying feeling deep in his gut that Sophie was as innocent as she appeared.

Halfway across the room, he faltered. A feeling in his gut?  Where had that come from? He didn’t have feelings when it came to working a case. He had facts, pure and simple.

“Gage. I see you made it." Parker turned to him as they approached the table.

“Parker." Only three hours ago, the Super had more or less ordered him to show up at Moira Pascotto’s opening tonight. Gage wasn’t sure if Parker wanted him there for backup in case Parker’s wife, Linda, came face to face with the dealer who sold her the fake Matisse or if he thought one of the Pascottos would let something significant slip after a few glasses of vino. Either way, the small, crowded art gallery was the last place Gage wanted to be right now.

He shook his boss’s hand, then drew Elaine forward. “You remember Elaine, don’t you?”

“How could I forget?” Parker smiled at Elaine. Rather, he smiled at Elaine’s breasts, which were hard not to look at, generous and bouncy as they were.

Gage had considered copping a feel when he’d arrived at her apartment to pick her up earlier, but for some reason, he couldn’t work up the enthusiasm to follow through on that thought.

“And this is Sophie Pascotto." He introduced the two women. “Sophie, Elaine Logan."

“Your dress is darling." Elaine smiled.

Darling was hardly the word he’d have picked to describe Sophie’s dress. Sexy as hell, maybe. It changed from blue to green, then back to blue every time she moved, and although the material looked real enough, he had the feeling if he touched the dress it would feel as insubstantial as air. As if she wore nothing at all but an illusion.

Sophie’s shoved her half finished glass of wine into Elaine’s hands. “I think I’m going to be sick."

Gage closed his eyes on a sigh as Sophie scurried from the room. God save him from unpredictable women. Parker probably thought her a drunk as well as a virtuoso of art forgery.

“Aren’t you going to go after her?” Parker’s voice grated in his ear.

Only if he had to. Which apparently he did, judging the anxiety in Parker’s strained expression. Did his boss think they’d just lost their culprit or was he concerned that she really was sick? If the wine had disagreed with Sophie, he had a feeling she wouldn’t welcome his presence.

Geez, there were those feelings again.

“I’ll check on her. Mind getting Elaine a glass of wine or something?”

“Not to worry. Elaine’s in good hands."

Gage frowned as he eased himself through the press of bodies to follow Sophie. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Parker was interested in getting a little on the side. That would fit in with the rumors running through the office recently about Parker’s marriage. Or pretend marriage. Or whatever you called it when both partners agreed to look the other way on occasion.

Considering it was his date the boss was ogling, he should probably be pissed. Instead, he was much more interested in finding out why Sophie said she felt sick. He thought she’d looked ornery as hell.

He threaded his way through the crowd to the back of the gallery. The door Sophie had disappeared through stood ajar. He slipped through the opening and closed the door behind him. The small, cluttered room looked like a combination office and storage room. Probably Mrs. Pascotto’s office.

Sophie was nowhere in sight, but Gage noticed a second door in the side wall. He picked his way through the clutter, taking mental notes of what Moira Pascotto left lying around and pushed the second door open.

The damp spring night had a chill in it, and he shivered as he stepped outside. Sophie sat on the hood on a bright red MG Midget that was parked in the narrow alley, her head in her hands.

She looked up at the snick of the door closing. “Go away."

Gage halted a few feet away from her. “Are you sick?”

“Yes." She glared at him through the evening twilight. “Sick of men who cheat on their wives. What is it with guys, anyway?”

She must have instantly picked up on Parker’s interest in Elaine. Talk about radar. “Last I heard, men haven’t cornered the market on the cheating game."

“Does that mean your wife sleeps with other men?”

“My wife?” He took a step closer to her, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “What are you talking about?”

“A wife,” she spit out. “W-I-F-E. You know, that woman who phoned you a couple of weeks ago at my studio and asked you to go home and spend some time with your kid.”

He threw back his head and laughed harder than he had for a long, long time. God, she delighted him. Gage savored the thrill that ran through him, then mentally shook himself. This was exactly why he’d kept his distance from Sophie for the last two weeks.

She shot off the hood of the car and bounced on the soles of her feet. “First you try to hit on me." Her hands formed fists on her hips. “Then you show up here with Ms. Sexpot on your arm. Where’s poor Maisie? Home doing the laundry?”

“Likely." As he advanced toward her, she backed up until she pressed against the car.

“Go away."

“Maisie’s my sister, and Andy’s her kid. He doesn’t have a dad, at least not one who wants to acknowledge him, so I try to spend time with him. Do guy stuff.”

“Guy stuff."

“Yeah.”

She looked everywhere but at him. “Wow, do I feel stupid.”

Sophie not only delighted him; she fascinated him. He couldn’t wait to hear what she would come up with next.

She pinned him with a straight-shooter look. “So, I suppose Ms. Sexpot is your mother.”

“Her name’s Elaine, and no, she’s an old girlfriend.”

“Oh."

He stepped into her personal space. “Everything straight now?” Another smile tugged at his mouth. She smelled like turpentine.

She looked at him without answering, her eyes wide and a little frightened. “We can’t do this,” she finally whispered.

He looked at her mouth, at her eyes, at her hair that for once, looked like it had been combed, and felt the warmth that colored his life slowly trickle away. “I know."

She slipped away from him, a shadow shifting from light into dark. “I ah...I need to talk to you about something.”

“More defamation of my character?”

Her small white hand fluttered in the light that wasn’t quite day, but not yet night. “No. About the case.”

He shifted uneasily, wondering why she felt the need to hide in the shadows. So far, she hadn’t had a problem telling him straight out what she thought. Including, hauling off and whacking him across the face the last time he saw her. Which he supposed he deserved.