“THE DRESS IS PERFECT,” Marcia said. “And it’s so right for Valentine’s Day. Randolph has such a good eye. Red is your color. Turn around so that you can see it from all angles.”
Red, schmed. But Nicola didn’t say the words out loud. The last place she wanted to be was closeted with Marcia in her room trying on a dress. She wanted to be with her father and Gabe so that they could bounce more ideas off one another. Her mind was spinning with possibilities. The whole series of thefts was beginning to remind her of an onion. Each time they peeled back a layer, there was more.How much more? That was what they had to find out.
“Of course, you’ll have to fix your hair. Smooth it back or better still, just let your curls frame your face.”
Nicola bit down on her lower lip. Discussing her hair-style was not going to get her downstairs any sooner. At least when Marcia had entered the library to drag her away, she’d first shooed the two men into the salon to share tea with Randolph Meyer. Her gut told her that her father’s analysis was dead-on. Guarding the Cézanne wasn’t the only problem they would have at the charity ball tomorrow night.
And that meant that the sooner they could get a handle on who they were dealing with, the better. “Randolph designs for a lot of your friends, doesn’t he?”
“I’ve been recommending him to everyone. I like to do that when I see a young person who needs a helping hand. But I can’t take full credit for the way he’s caught on. I recommended him to Betsy Langford last summer, and she passed his name on to as many people as I have. Maybe more. She’s very close friends with the Glastons. Randolph’s designing several dresses for the ball, including Mariah Bailey’s, and she only shops in New York or L.A. But Randolph is catching on with everyone. Mary Thomas has been a fan of his for quite some time. And this afternoon when Debra Bancroft stopped by, she and Randolph discussed some of the changes he’s made for her dress for the ball. She’s working security, but she has to blend in.”
Nicola felt her pulse actually skip a beat. Randolph had been in every single house the thieves had hit or intended to hit. Plus, he’d designed dresses for two of the people who were on the possible suspect list. She needed to talk to Gabe. “You’re right, Marcia. The dress is perfect.” She turned back to face the mirror. “Can you help me with the zipper?”
“You haven’t even looked at it,” Marcia said. “And Randolph will want to see it on you before he leaves. That was why he delivered it in person.”
Biting back an inward sigh, Nicola faced the mirror again. And since she would have to fake it anyway, she really did look at the dress. It was the simplicity of the sketch Randolph had shown her that had appealed to her from the beginning. There was no doubt in her mind that he was a talented designer. From narrow straps at her shoulders, the material angled to a V neckline, then flowed smoothly along the lines of her body, stopping just above her knees.
“He’s shortened it since the last fitting,” she noted with a frown.
Marcia waved a hand. “That’s because he noticed your legs. The benefit of working with a designer is that he tailors the clothes to your strengths.”
Nicola gave the dress a second sweep with her gaze. As a child, Marcia had dressed her in ruffles and ribbons and pink had been her signature color. Probably as a result of that, Nicola tended to favor conservative tailoring and colors in her work wardrobe, and slacks were more practical than skirts.
While the dress couldn’t be called flashy, it went a few steps beyond conservative. In her mind, she’d pictured it in black. Randolph was the one who’d decided that red would suit her better. And she supposed it did. Turning, she angled her head just enough to see that the hemline wasn’t the only thing the designer had altered. He’d definitely lowered the back and taken in a couple of seams. It was a far cry from the party or prom dresses of her younger years.
And it made her think of Gabe. She definitely didn’t look like an FBI agent in the dress. And she didn’t feel like one either. She felt like a woman.
And the giddy idea of wanting Gabe to see her in a sexy red dress was the last thing she should be thinking about.
“I have a confession to make,” Marcia said.
At her tone, Nicola turned to face her and was surprised at the sheepish expression on her stepmother’s face. “What is it?”
“When I invited Randolph to sit at our table tomorrow night, I was hoping that you and he would hit it off. He seems so right for you. He loves art, you know. Last night, he couldn’t stop talking about the Cézanne. He went to college with Celia Robineau, so he’s familiar with the painting. I was so sure that you and he would hit it off.”
Nicola smiled wryly as she took her stepmother’s hands in hers. “I know why you invited Randolph to sit with us. You invited Nash Fortune to dinner for the same reason. You want to match me up with someone.”
“It’s that obvious?”
Nicola leaned in to give her stepmother a quick kiss on her cheek. Then she thought of Gabe’s advice. “What’s obvious is that you want me to be happy. I am. And I will be. It just may not be your vision of how I should be happy.”
“But I never once thought of Gabe. I should have.”
Nicola stared at her stepmother. “Gabe and I are working together on these robberies. We aren’t…” What exactly weren’t they? “It’s not what you think…we’re not…”
Taking her hand, Marcia drew her toward the door. “Nicola, I saw the way the two of you were kissing in the truck. You’re definitely on to something. Your father has always had a special fondness for that boy. How long have you been seeing each other?”
“We haven’t. I mean…” Less than twenty-four hours if she didn’t count those Saturdays on the basketball court at the St. Francis Center.
Marcia patted her hand. “I was the same way when I first met your father. I couldn’t seem to catch enough breath to get a complete sentence out. You’ll get used to it.”
No, Nicola thought as Marcia steered her out of the room. She was pretty sure that she wasn’t going to ever get used to it. She didn’t even know what “it” was.
13
WHEN NICOLA ENTERED the salon with her stepmother, Gabe completely lost his train of thought. Tea sloshed over the rim of his cup onto his saucer. She was stunning. Had he ever thought of her as beautiful before? Attractive—very. Sexy—definitely. But in the red dress, she was breathtaking. It was simple, but it clung to every curve as if it had been designed specifically with her in mind.
And, of course it had been. Perhaps it was the lingering trace of jealousy that had his brain cells clicking on again. In any case it helped to shift his gaze from Nicola to the tall blond man with the athletic body and Hollywood handsome features. Randolph Meyer had taken Nicola’s hand the instant she’d entered and he’d drawn the two women to the far end of the salon where a circle of bay windows let in the late-afternoon sunlight. The three of them were oohing and ahhing over the dress as if it were a work of art.For Gabe it was the woman who made the dress and not the other way around.
“What exactly is your relationship with my daughter?”
Gabe spilled more tea. The question was not only unexpected, it made his stomach lurch.
Nick Guthrie took the cup from his hand and placed it on a nearby table.
“She and I are…” What? Lovers? That was a hell of a thing to tell her father. And wasn’t this a big part of why he’d avoided Nicola for three long months?
“We’re—” he began again and got no further. Seeing each other? Dating? Neither of those descriptions quite fit.
“I saw you kissing her in the truck when you drove up. All of us did.”
“All?” Gabe turned to look at Guthrie then.
“Randolph, Marcia and I. We were all in the window when you drove up. The curtains are sheer.”
“Sorry. I forgot where we were.”
Guthrie set his own tea down. “How long have we worked together?”
Wary of the shift in topic, Gabe studied the older man. Then he said, “You called me in the first time to consult on a case six years ago. A safe deposit box that you wanted opened and you didn’t want to destroy the evidence you expected to find inside.”
Guthrie nodded. “See, you remembered that all right. In fact, I’ve never known you to forget anything. I’m going to try again. What is your relationship with my daughter?”
Gabe shifted his gaze to Nicola, then back to her father. “I’m trying to figure it out.”
Guthrie studied him for a moment and for some reason Gabe couldn’t fathom, he seemed satisfied with the answer. “The problem is, until you do figure it out, it’s distracting you.”
Gabe couldn’t argue with that.
“Will it interfere with your keeping her safe?”
“No. I’ll keep her safe.” He kept his eyes steady on Guthrie’s. “And I’ll have help on that score. She’s smart. We wouldn’t have as much as we have right now if it weren’t for her. And she’s pretty good at keeping herself safe.”