Take My Breath Away…

She took a breath and let it out. “Marcia said that my father’s there and wants to meet with you. While I’m having this totally unnecessary fitting appointment with Randolph, you and my father will be in his office sharing information on what you and he have discovered so far. I’ll be left on the outside just as I was this morning.”

He studied her for a moment. “If you don’t like what’s going to happen in there, change it.”

She blinked at him.

He shrugged. “They both love you, Nicola. And you love them. You’re smart. You know what they want. That’s partly why you accepted the transfer to your father’s office after you finished your training. Have you tried telling them exactly what you want?”

Nicola opened her mouth and then shut it. She thought of that this very morning when she’d wanted to burst in on the meeting her father was having with Gabe and demand that he include her. But she hadn’t. She didn’t like to make waves. Temper tantrums had never been her style. She’d always tried to just forge ahead and prove herself by her actions. But maybe there was a middle road.

“Okay.” She nodded at Gabe. “Okay.”

“That’s my Curls.” He leaned in for a quick, hard kiss.

As if someone had pressed the dimmer button on a stage light, everything around Nicola faded. Fire leapt along her nerve endings. Pleasure swirled through her body. And suddenly, she was drowning in him, sinking down to a place where the air was so thick, she couldn’t breathe. Didn’t want to.

Even as a nagging little voice told her to pull back, she framed his face with her hands and absorbed the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the strength of his jaw. She heard a sound, but she couldn’t make it out over the thundering of her heart.

In what dull, little-used corner of his mind had he thought he could make the kiss a quick one? Not happening—not while she could make lights explode in his head and heat swarm his system. He scraped his teeth along her lower lip, absorbing the softness and the ripe taste of her surrender. Maybe it was that particularly addictive flavor that had him coming back for more and not being able to pull away. Or maybe it was just her.

She made a sound in her throat that vibrated through him. He wanted to hear it again. Had to hear it again. Lord, he wanted to touch her. But he knew that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Why had he parked smack in front of the house? If he’d just pulled over a little farther back down the drive, he could have—would have—

He pushed the button on her seat belt and was about to grip her shoulders and pull her across the console when she lifted her hands and gave him a shove—as hard as a couple of the blocks she’d thrown on the basketball court.

It took a second for his brain cells to click on, another for him to pull in a breath. For a moment neither of them said a word. It gave him some satisfaction that her eyes were as blurry as he suspected his own were.

“That’s the one bad thing about this pickup. No back-seat.”

She drew in a shaky breath and inched just a little farther away from him. “It’s the parking location that’s really bad. I have a feeling that the front seat would have proved more than adequate if I couldn’t feel Marcia’s eyes on me.”

Gabe glanced up at the windows, and he saw one of the curtains twitch. “I’ll be damned.”

“No.” She sighed. “But I probably will be.”

“Good call, Curls. How did you know?”

Her tone went dry. “I grew up here. Every time a date drove me home, Marcia was on duty at that very window.”

He grinned at her as he gripped her chin. “Ready to face the music?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

THERE WERE THREE PEOPLE waiting to greet them as Nicola strolled into the foyer of Thorne Mansion with Gabe just a step behind her. Nicola’s father and stepmother were joined by Randolph Meyer. Marcia came forward first to embrace her in a hug.

“Anna is waiting in your old room to help you change into the dress.”“In a minute.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught her father signaling Gabe to follow him.

“Dad?”

Her father turned to her.

“Before I do the dress fitting thing, Gabe and I need to talk to you, and I’d like to see the security setup for tomorrow night.”

“But Randolph’s on a schedule,” Marcia protested.

“It’s fine,” Randolph said. “I’m more than happy to wait.”

“Thanks.” Nicola shot him a smile before she and Gabe followed her father up the staircase and along the hall that led to Thorne Mansion’s Grand Salon.

Her father pressed numbers into a pad on the door.

“How many people have access to the code?” Nicola asked.

“Gabe, his assistant Debra Bancroft, your stepmother and I have the code. Yesterday, G. W. Securities added a thumbprint to the access protocol. Marcia’s, mine and Gabe’s. Debra saw to the installation as part of the walk-through.”

Nick turned to Gabe. “Marcia said that Debra stopped by earlier just to check on everything again.”

“That sounds like Debra,” Gabe said. “I’ve given her a lot of responsibility for this job.”

Nicola studied Gabe, but she couldn’t read anything in his expression. “Thumbprints can be lifted.”

He nodded as they stepped into the salon. “My father once told me that there isn’t a security system in the world that can’t be breached—given the time. That’s why the thumbprint was added yesterday. Working around it may slow the thief down a bit.”

“Only slow him down?” Nicola asked.

“As you said, thumbprints can be lifted, and if I were the thief, I’d assume that your stepmother would have access. I’d come with her thumbprint and perhaps your father’s. But only if I intended to enter through this door.”

Together they entered the room. It was long and narrow. Late-afternoon sunlight slanted through the windows and glinted off honey-toned parquet floors. As far as Nicola knew, the salon was only used for the Valentine’s Day charity auction each year. It was sparsely furnished to allow a maximum number of guests. Cocktails would be served here from 6:00 to 8:00 to allow time for guests to view the Cézanne and place their bids. Then everyone would exit to the upstairs ballroom for dinner and dancing. Marcia would announce the painting’s new owner at midnight.

The Cézanne hung on a wall directly across from the access door. It was completely enclosed in glass, and there was another keypad with a thumbprint component. Next to it was a small green light.

“The glass is shatterproof,” Gabe said.

“But the keypad looks the same as the one on the door,” Nicola commented. “With the code and the proper thumbprint, this shouldn’t take the thief long.”

“I agree.”

“They still have to get out,” Nick Guthrie said. “We’ll have men on the room.”

“He or she won’t use the door to exit,” Gabe said. “This house is a historic landmark. The blueprints are on file. Any thief worth his salt will know how to get in and out without using the door. And to maximize time, they’ll create a distraction in another part of the house to deflect attention from this room.”

“Are you saying that the thief will get away with stealing this painting?” Guthrie asked.

Gabe smiled. “No, I’m merely saying that at some time tomorrow night, the thief will stand this close to the painting—and he or she will believe they’re home free.”

Nicola narrowed her eyes on the keypad again. Then she pointed to the green light. “The access code and the thumbprint won’t be enough. You’ve installed the same new security system on this that you installed on the statue of St. Francis.”

“You’ve got good eyes, Curls.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Nick Guthrie bent close to inspect the light. “When did you install that?”

“Last week shortly after the keypad was installed.”

“You weren’t here last week. I’ve had men watching the house since the painting arrived and we authenticated it. None of our alarm systems have been breached. I’ve personally checked the painting each day.”

“What kind of a security expert would I be if I couldn’t get past my own systems?”

Nicola smiled at the perplexed expression on her father’s face. “That’s exactly why Gabe was my prime suspect.”

“HOW WOULD YOU GET the painting out if you were the thief?” Guthrie had postponed asking that question until he’d escorted them into the room he used as his home office and gestured them into chairs. Gabe figured by that time, he’d had a chance to mull over what he’d just learned.

“I’d come in the way I actually did—through an old heating air duct—after I bypassed the alarm system on the house,” Gabe said. “I considered using one of the windows, but that would have required more time.”Guthrie narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t know you were a second-story expert.”

Gabe merely shrugged. “In my business I need to be. And I’ve had since New Year’s Eve to try to get into the mind of the thief. The problem is—the person they’re relying on to get through all the security is not going to be with them tomorrow night. So they’ll have to improvise. That’s why I’m thinking they’ll definitely need to create some kind of a distraction.”