When She Was Bad...

Pepper was holding on to that thought. On the bright side, Evan Atwell’s mother had decided not to report the theft to the authorities. That would have meant canceling the charity auction, and she didn’t want to do that until she had to. Too much time and planning had gone into it, she’d claimed. Instead, Althea Atwell was going to give Rossi Investigations until Sunday, the day of the charity auction, to recover the painting. She wanted the Monet back, and she expected the team at RI to get it. There’d been the threat of a law suit if they weren’t able to produce the Monet by Sunday. But even without a lawsuit, if the news was made public that the painting had been stolen while Rossi Investigations was on the job, the bad publicity might ruin her brothers’ fledgling business.

Luke and Matt hadn’t spoken one word of reproach to her, but they’d been clearly disappointed. They’d encouraged her to take a few days off. The subtext was that they didn’t want her help, and she could hardly blame them.

She hadn’t told anyone—neither the police nor her brothers—about Irene’s involvement. If Luke and Matt had known about it, they would have stopped her aunt from flying to Escapade Island to give the painting to Butch. As much as Pepper loved her brothers, she hadn’t been able to betray her aunt. But she hadn’t told Irene she was following her to the island either. She wasn’t as sold on Butch Castellano’s born-again honesty as her aunt was, and one way or another she was going to make sure that the painting got back to San Francisco by Sunday night. And then—she shot a glance heavenward—she was definitely going to mend her impulsive ways.

Striding into the main room of the airport, Pepper glanced at her watch again and for the first time the date registered. Her stomach plummeted, and her headache accelerated into the chaotic rhythm of kettle drums.

Today was Friday the thirteenth.

No wonder she’d lost her aunt. If her luck went the way it usually did, Irene’s disappearance was just the first thing that would go wrong today. In her experience, bad luck always came in threes.

When someone plowed into her from behind, Pepper stumbled and felt herself grabbed and steadied.

“Sorry, ma’am. You all right?”

Turning, she found herself looking up into the eyes of a tall man wearing a cowboy hat. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“Glad to hear it.” Then he touched the brim of his hat. “My lady’s getting away from me.” Stepping around her, he lengthened his stride, and Pepper caught a glimpse of a woman beating a fast path to the exit sign.

It occurred to her then that almost everyone on the flight had been part of a couple, including the trench coat couple who’d stopped traffic. Hardly surprising, she thought. On the Internet, Escapade Island advertised itself as the perfect vacation spot for lovers, and tomorrow was Valentine’s Day. The flight attendants on the plane from Miami had been really into the spirit of the holiday. There’d been streamers and plump little cupids decorating the cabin, and they’d even passed out chocolate hearts wrapped in red and pink foil.

As usual, she was without a current lover. In fact, she’d been without one for some time. Of course, she’d nearly managed to catapult herself out of the celibate state when she’d kissed Cole two nights ago.

But she wasn’t going to think about that—much—until she’d recovered the Monet.

Before that, her last serious and intimate relationship with a man had been in college, and it had ended when Bobby Caswell had graduated a year ahead of her and gone back home to marry his high school sweetheart. She’d thought she’d been in love. And Bobby had definitely been in love—with another woman.

Naturally, she’d been a little man shy after that. In Philadelphia, she’d gone out with a string of eligible bachelors that her grandmother had selected, but she’d never quite clicked with any of them. Those relationships had rarely lasted beyond the first date. And even though she’d gone out with Evan Atwell for almost six months, their relationship had never progressed beyond the platonic stage.

Of course, she’d broken things off with him at the three-month stage, but for some reason he’d still wanted to “date” her. She thought it had something to do with the fact that his mother had approved of her, and he wanted some time to break the news to her. And truth be told, continuing to date Evan had given her a shield against Cole. As long as she was officially dating Evan, she hadn’t had to face what she was going to do about what she felt for him.

It didn’t take a super sleuth to recognize a pattern in her history with men. It was the history of her life. She never measured up.

As a result, she was sex starved.

That was the only explanation she could see for the way she’d responded so…explosively to Cole Buchanan’s kiss. In the past day and a half, she’d given it some careful thought—even though she’d vowed not to think about it—and she’d figured it out. Cole had wanted her. It was only natural that she’d be attracted to that. And she’d wanted him. She’d known that from that very first moment in her father’s kitchen. So the explosion had occurred. She’d aced her chemistry classes, so she should have foreseen it and been more prepared. She would be if he ever kissed her again.

Pepper frowned as she dashed around yet another strolling couple. Dammit, she was thinking about that kiss again. In the last day and a half, she hadn’t been able to get it out of her mind. Nor could she stop fantasizing about what might have happened if Cole hadn’t discovered that the Monet was gone.

Grimly, she pushed those fantasies out of her mind. Reality check. Number one, the Monet was missing. Two, her aunt was missing. Three, she had to recover both of them. Kissing Cole Buchanan was not on her current to-do list.

Not that the opportunity for another kiss was going to present itself anytime soon. She hadn’t even seen Cole since that night. He hadn’t been at the office yesterday, hadn’t tried to contact her.

Obviously, the experience hadn’t been memorable for Cole at all. Perhaps that flood of desire was a common occurrence for him. He was probably used to getting swept away like that. Or maybe the experience hadn’t been mutual. Perhaps he hadn’t been swept away.

Damn. She stepped out of the stream of passengers and steadied herself against a nearby wall. Just thinking about that kiss was all it took for the sensations to come streaming back. She pressed the heel of her hand against her heart to still the hammering, and she drew in a deep breath as heat flooded her body and melted her bones. No man had ever made her feel so wanton, so weak, so…incredible.

And she wanted so much to feel that way again—to see where those sensations would lead. Pressing her hand to her stomach, she concentrated on breathing. Thank heavens she’d gotten away from San Francisco. If she’d run into Cole again, she wasn’t sure she could keep her impulsive side—that part of her she’d learned she must control—in check.

Stop thinking about it. Pepper drew in another deep breath, stiffened her spine, and pushed herself away from the wall. Information. That’s what she needed. Knowledge was power. Irene had missed the flight, so she’d be on the next one to the island. If nothing else, her aunt was resourceful. Plus, she’d committed grand larceny for an old boyfriend, so she would hardly let a missed flight get in the way of giving the Monet to him.

Striding through an archway, Pepper scanned the main room of the airport. It was high-ceilinged and open to the air on one side. Here and there cement planters bulged with huge red flowers and smaller orange and pink ones. Pepper was abruptly and completely charmed. She didn’t think she’d seen either species of flower before, and she was sure she hadn’t experienced the scent—something between the exotic aroma of gardenia and the innocence of lily of the valley.

Of course, she’d never seen anything like this island before either. The bird’s-eye view from the plane had looked like a carefully constructed movie set. A blue lagoon snaked through the forest of palm trees that covered almost half of the island. From what she could see, the hotel offered rooms with balconies that overlooked the ocean, as well as separate little thatched-roof bungalows along stretches of white sand beaches.

But it was the surrounding sea itself that fascinated her. She turned to the open side of the room and took another look at the water now. She’d seen the Pacific, but even on the sunniest day, it had never been this shade of turquoise. While she waited for Irene to arrive on the next plane, she might walk over and check it out.

Information, she reminded herself. Scanning the room again, she saw uniformed agents standing behind a counter, checking in luggage and handing out boarding passes to departing visitors. There were lines, and she didn’t have time for them. Finally, she spotted what she was looking for. Beneath a large round clock stood a young tall man wearing white shorts and a blue flowered shirt. The counter in front of him sported a banner that read, Welcome to Escapade Island…Where Pleasure Is Limitless.

Crossing her fingers, Pepper sent up another silent prayer as she strode toward the counter. Please let me find Aunt Irene and get the Monet back to the Atwells. And let that happen today. Please. Her experience was that the more specific she made her prayers, the more likely they were to be answered in a timely fashion.