Take My Breath Away…

After twisting the cap off of the plastic bottle, she took a long swallow. He wasn’t her prime suspect anymore. They should both be focusing on who was behind the thefts. Sending her home in a separate car had been an excellent move on his part. Obviously, they were returning to their first strategy—treating what had happened between them as spilled milk.

Fine. She was about to take another swallow of her drink when there was a knock at her door.

When she saw it was Father Mike, she set down her drink and hurried to let him in.

“You’re all right.” He took her hands in his. “Gabe assured me of that when he called me earlier, but when I received your message, I thought I’d come in person and see for myself.”

“I’m fine.” Nicola drew him toward a chair. He wasn’t tall, and in spite of the fact that he had to be close to eighty, he moved with the agility of a much younger man. His hair was snow-white, and he had the kindest blue eyes she’d ever seen. When she’d first met him years ago at the St. Francis Center, she’d thought of them as Irish eyes because they always seemed to be smiling.

He drew a newspaper out of his pocket. “The statue is safe, but the thief got away. Gabe didn’t give me much more than the paper has.”

Quickly, she gave him a severely edited version of what had gone on in St. Francis Church the previous evening.

“Good thinking to use choir robes to prevent him from going into shock,” Father Mike said.

Nicola could feel she was blushing. She’d of course deleted completely the part where she had decided to crawl in with Gabe.

Don’t go there, Nicola. Stick to the case.

“Father, you’ve known Gabe for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Since he was a baby. I was his mother’s confessor.”

She told the priest about her theory that Gabe was somehow at the center of why the thefts were occurring. “Do you have any idea of why someone would want to frame him for the thefts? Or to hurt him in some way?”

Father Mike leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Revenge is a powerful motivation. It’s usually triggered by love or money. Sometimes both. A man in Raphael Wilder’s profession—as good as he was—had to have made enemies.”

She frowned as she thought about it. “A thirst for revenge that would extend from father to son…and then there’s the money. Gabe says it’s about the art, too.”

Father Mike smiled. “You like him, don’t you?”

Nicola frowned. Like him? Like seemed far too tame a word for what she’d come to feel about Gabe Wilder in the past twelve hours. “I haven’t had time to think about that. Until last night at the church, I was sure he was behind the thefts.”

“But you’ve changed your mind.”

“Yes, he’s not the thief.”

“But he might have been if it weren’t for you.”

She stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“Fifteen years ago, you came into his life when he was at a crossroads.”

Nicola frowned. “I was ten, and I let him tempt me into playing basketball instead of weeding the garden as I was supposed to do.” And last night she’d let him tempt her again.

Father Mike beamed a smile at her. “Exactly. Teaching you to play and sharing his skill with you helped him to choose the right path.” He tilted his head to one side. “And playing with him helped you also, I think.”

“Perhaps.” She met Father Mike’s eyes. “You asked me if I liked him. I’m not sure I did like him when I was ten. But he fascinated me.”

“And now?”

He still did, she realized.

Leaning toward her, Father Mike patted her hand. “If the two of you work together on catching this thief, you’ll figure it out.”

“Father Mike.”

They both turned to see Mary Thomas standing in the doorway. “I buzzed Agent Guthrie that you’re here, and he said to come right in.”

Nicola rose when Father Mike did and walked with him to the door.

Mary said to her, “I’ll check with him and see if he’s ready to see you also.”

Father Mike turned and took her hands in his again. “St. Francis will help you settle everything. You just have to have faith in his power.”

For one long moment, Nicola stood in the doorway watching Father Mike disappear into her father’s office. It didn’t look as though working with Gabe on the case was going to be an option unless she figured out a way to make it one. And if she did, how on earth was she going to handle the intense attraction she felt for him? Still, she was debating whether or not to just follow Father Mike into her father’s office when her phone rang. She hurried toward it hoping it was her father requesting her presence. “Agent Guthrie.”

“Nicola, where are you?”

Nicola recognized the voice instantly. Her stepmother. And the call could only mean one thing. She was on Marcia’s to-do list for the Valentine’s Day Charity Ball. “I’m at the office.”

“You have a meeting with Randolph Meyer this afternoon at 4 o’clock for a fitting of your gown. You can’t miss it. You’ll have to leave the office early.”

Nicola didn’t bother to argue that she could miss the appointment. The words would be wasted because Marcia, as much as she loved her, had a one-track mind.

“I want you to look perfect. Everyone who is anyone is going to be at the ball. I’ve had three people call today to ask if I can fit them in.”

It wasn’t nerves or annoyance that Nicola heard in her stepmother’s voice. It was delight and excitement. Marcia loved to throw a party. And between the Cézanne that was being auctioned and the media buzz that an attempt might be made to steal it, the Valentine’s Day Charity Ball had become a hot ticket.

“And Randolph is looking forward to seeing you again,” Marcia said.

Meyer was the hot new designer that everyone in Denver’s most elite social circles was using. Nicola also suspected that her stepmother had added Randolph to the list of eligible bachelors Nicola should be getting to know.

“Since you don’t have an escort tomorrow night, I’ve invited Randolph to join our table.”

Bingo, Nicola thought. Randolph Meyer would make bachelor number four or five. She’d already lost count of the number of men Marcia had introduced her to since she’d returned to Denver.

“Yesterday, he stayed after my fitting and helped me make the decision on the desserts for the ball. Such a well-mannered young man. And so talented.”

“What did you choose for the desserts?” Nicola asked, hoping to distract Marcia.

“Chocolate covered strawberries, chocolate cheesecake, crème brulee for those who avoid chocolate, and a selection of petit fours.”

“Excellent. You always make just the right choices.”

“But I won’t be doing them forever, and you will have to step into my shoes. The charity ball has been held at the Thorne mansion for nearly a quarter of a century.”

Nicola had heard the speech before, so she repeated her usual answer. “And that’s where it will continue to be held. When the time comes, I’ll step into your shoes, Marcia.” She might not be able to fill them or meet all of Marcia’s expectations, but she could certainly make sure that the annual ball went off on schedule.

“And you’ll make the fitting with Randolph?”

To avoid answering the question, she lied. “I have another call coming in. I have to go.”

She disconnected her stepmother and was replacing the receiver in its cradle when she suddenly tensed. Every nerve in her body began to tingle.

Gabe Wilder was here. She raised her gaze to meet his and just like that her pulse began to race, her nerves tingled.

He stood leaning against the door frame and she had to grip the arms of her chair to keep from going to him. He wore black from head to foot—slacks, turtleneck sweater and a leather jacket. And his eyes—at this distance—were nearly black, too.

Just looking at him made her want him. Desperately. It was that simple, that basic. That terrifying. No amount of common sense or practicality could control her instant and primitive response to just seeing him.

“Ready?” he asked.

She wasn’t at all sure she was. Not for him. But there was a gleam in his eyes that tempted her just as it had when she was ten. “For what?”

“To take me on as your new assignment? I’ve convinced your father that someone needs to keep a close eye on me since the mastermind behind these thefts seems to be very intent on framing me for the robberies. The job is yours if you want it.”

“I do.” Snagging her purse from her desk drawer, she headed toward him. She wanted the job all right. Now all she had to do was keep her mind on it.

Gabe’s cell phone rang.

“Wilder.” Then he listened. She could hear the rumble of a voice on the other end of the connection, but she couldn’t make out the words.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said as her father and Father Mike appeared in the doorway of his office.

“The state police just called,” Nick Guthrie said. “They found your car in a ravine about four miles from Denver. The driver—a woman—was airlifted to a hospital several hours ago. They assumed the car belonged to the driver and didn’t get around to running the plate right away.”