“Maybe not, but someone has to look out for the man.”
And Sara had definitely appointed herself Coop’s guardian. Though the other woman’s words were intrusive and blunt, Lexie still respected her candor. Good, solid friends—friends who understood you—were hard to come by and she was glad he had found one in this tough yet feminine cop.
Even if Lexie hadn’t liked what Sara revealed.
Just when Lexie had managed to convince herself that she and Coop could enjoy a fling that lasted until their mutual interest in the ring and his Web site ended, his close friend was warning her not to put too much of herself into this relationship if she wasn’t able to commit, should things between them work out.
A firm knock on Sara’s door prevented any further conversation, but couldn’t stop Lexie’s thoughts. It wasn’t commitment Lexie had a problem with, it was staying in one place—something she knew Coop had definite issues dealing with.
COOP HOPED LEXIE liked Chinese food. He stopped by his favorite take-out place on the way home, thinking that if he had dinner in his hands when he finally got there, she wouldn’t be as upset with him for being so late. When he put in his usual order, he realized he didn’t even know the basics, like her tastes. As a result, he had a huge brown bag with enough food for an army, but at least she’d have a variety to choose from.
His plan was to mix work with pleasure tonight. As for whether he’d tell her about the chauffeur connection, he remained uneasy, wanting to be able to cushion the blow by looking into it further first.
By the time he arrived home, he was wound tight and ready for the evening to begin. But Lexie wasn’t at his place, as he’d expected and he had to make small talk with his neighbor before they could be alone. And Sara, being Sara, was in a chatty mood.
He waited until she paused for a breath, to take Lexie’s hand. “We really need to get going,” Coop said pointedly.
“Reservations you’re already late for?” Sara asked.
“Funny. Actually, I brought dinner home.”
“You did?” Lexie asked.
He met her gaze and nodded. “Yep. And I’m starving.” And after a look at her in a loose-fitting halter top, her long tanned legs peeking out from delicate white shorts, he was hungry for much more than food. Their one kiss had whet his appetite and fed his dreams at night, but hadn’t been nearly enough to satisfy him.
“Me, too,” she said, her words bland. But her eyes darkened behind the frames, revealing her understanding of his meaning.
“Go get a room,” Sara said, laughing as she headed around them, toward the door to walk them out.
Coop placed his hand on the small of Lexie’s back, letting her precede him.
“Thanks, Sara. I appreciate the company,” Lexie said.
“Ditto,” Coop said to his neighbor. “You won’t take it personally if I don’t invite you to join us?”
She shook her head and grinned. “Enjoy yourself,” she said, patting him on the cheek.
He winked at her. “I intend to.”
“Good, because this one passed inspection.”
Which meant Sara must have interrogated Lexie the whole time they’d been together. Coop groaned and shot her a warning look. “You really need a guy of your own to focus on,” he muttered.
“Good night, Coop,” she said, shutting her door behind him.
Lexie waited patiently at his door. She didn’t look like a woman who’d gone through something akin to the Spanish Inquisition, but in case Sara had been rough, Coop looked forward to making it up to her.
RICKY USED TO BE A THIEF, but after fifty-plus years of retirement, the old tricks didn’t come back easily. His bones were weary and the rush of adrenaline just didn’t drive him the way it used to. But fear was a strong motivator. So when he realized his prized possessions, his trophies, had made an appearance on live TV, Ricky knew he had a problem.
If the old accomplices he’d betrayed got a gander at the jewels and recognized the loot, they’d raise holy hell and come after him. His accomplices were scary bitches and there were certain items he’d never gotten around to turning over to them as promised. Ricky had no doubt that all these years later, if they found him they’d make him pay.
Not that he blamed them. He’d whispered sweet nothings to each one, making promises he’d never truly meant to keep until the one night he’d slipped up and gotten caught in bed with one by the other.
That incident had broken up their little group, ended relationships, and the three had spread far and wide. Ricky had hightailed it to California for a few years, where he’d met his wife. Once he figured that things had cooled off, he’d returned to New York, opened his store and lived quietly…until that damn robbery and his daughter’s reward threatened to blow his world sky high.
Ricky had believed all the mementos of his former life had remained under wraps. Now he discovered that his daughter had been quietly selling things out from under him. So far none had come back to haunt him. But now that the ring had made a public appearance, Ricky had to get the piece back into his possession before that damn reporter tried to sell it. If a jeweler identified the ring, it wouldn’t be long before the unsolved crime pointed straight back to him.
He’d tried asking for it nicely, or as nicely as he knew how, but he’d been rebuffed. Which scared him even more. Why would a guy who’d showed little interest in accepting a reward suddenly want to hang on to it so much? That’s when he’d returned to his old ways, breaking into the reporter’s apartment. He hadn’t found the ring, but he’d taken the laptop, hoping the cops would think it had been a simple robbery.
But an unexpected thing had happened afterwards. He’d looked into his daughter’s and granddaughter’s eyes and realized that he wasn’t the same man who’d stolen from the rich all those years ago. He’d raised his family with morals and decency and, dammit, he felt guilty now for taking something that didn’t belong to him.
Wearing gloves, he bundled up the laptop in plain brown wrapping, protected it in bubble wrap, boxed it and headed to the busiest post office in Manhattan. He disguised himself with a toupee, which gave him a full head of hair again, a walking stick and sunglasses. He’d asked a stranger to address the box for him. Paying cash, he mailed the laptop back to the reporter, alleviating his guilt somewhat.
Then he returned home with the same two problems he’d had when he started. The ring was still out there, waiting to lead some smart person back to him. And so were his accomplices.