Risking It All: The Proposition / The Dare / The Favour / The P.I. / The Cop / The Defender

9

THE LATE-AFTERNOON SUN beat down mercilessly as the limousine turned onto a sleekly paved drive. The limo had been waiting for them when the plane touched down on Brancotti’s private landing field. The driver, a tall blond muscle builder in his mid-twenties, had assured them that the twenty-minute ride would be as cool and as comfortable as he could make it. In her persona as Calli, Natalie didn’t have to hide the fact that she was totally impressed with the chilled champagne and the fruit and cheese tray that awaited them in the plush interior of the limousine. Mozart poured out of a speaker, and she sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor, turning the knobs on a small TV.

Unless and until they could be absolutely certain that they weren’t being bugged, they were to stay completely in character. That was the plan, and Natalie decided that being Calli was liberating. The woman didn’t seem to have any hang-ups.

And seducing Steven Bradford had been almost as exciting as seducing Chance Mitchell. There’d been an added kick to realize that initially he’d tried to resist her. It occurred to her that she’d never before tried to seduce a reluctant man. But once Steven had gotten over his initial resistance, he’d been a more than willing participant. And if she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn that the man she’d made love with on the airplane was different than the one she’d made love to two nights ago. As a lover Steven was gentler, or perhaps sweeter was a better word.

Did Chance feel the same way about Calli—that she was a different lover from Rachel? Which woman did he prefer? The thought fascinated her. Gazing over her shoulder, she studied him for a minute. It was definitely Steven she was looking at. What would it be like if she could make him lose control and become Chance when he wanted to be Steven Bradford?

Running her hand along the lush carpeting, she considered what it might be like to discover the answer to her question right now. Right here.

Turning, she sent Chance a slow smile. “Want to fool around?”

Without taking his eyes off of the papers he was poring over, he threaded his fingers absently through her hair. “Later. I have a call with Harold scheduled for five o’clock, and I need to get through these.”

The call would be with Tracker McBride. That much Natalie knew. The conversation would sound like business, but there would be a coded subtext. Right now the subtext of his message to her was to keep her mind on the job.

But wasn’t part of her job establishing the fact that she was totally besotted with Steven Bradford? Knowing that the driver was listening and probably watching through his rearview mirror, Natalie twisted around and placed her hand on Chance’s thigh. “You know what they say about all work and no play.”

In a quick move that she didn’t anticipate, Chance closed his hands over her shoulders and drew her close for a long, hard kiss. Then even as heat flared to life, he moved his mouth to her ear and whispered, “You’re playing with fire.”

She laughed. “I hope so.”

She felt his lips curve as he brushed soft kisses at the corners of her mouth. There it was again, that unexpected gentleness. Was it part of Chance or merely a layer to the persona of Steven Bradford? She was leaning forward when he slipped his hands out of her hair and set her away from him.

“Too late. We’re here,” he murmured.

Glancing through the window, she saw that they’d stopped at a mammoth gate set in a tall stone fence. The moment it opened, the limo slid through and continued up a winding narrow drive. Flowers bloomed on either side. To the right, there were three tennis courts where two hardy souls battled the heat and each other. Through the tall cypresses to her left she caught a glimpse of a landscaped patio area surrounding a huge pool. A few guests sat sipping drinks in the shade of red-and-white striped umbrellas.

Then as the car swept around a curve and the main house came into view, Natalie let her mouth drop open. The building was huge, three stories high with wings on either side. The entire structure was built out of slabs of gray marble streaked with shades of rose and pink. It reminded her of an Italian villa as she supposed it was meant to. At its right stood a low-slung building—an old carriage house, she guessed. Now it probably served as a garage and servants’ quarters.

“Wow,” she said as the car pulled to a stop. Though she didn’t repeat it, she might have said the same about the man who descended the marble steps to greet them. In person, Carlo Brancotti was even better-looking than he’d been in the photos Chance had shown her.

Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore black trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. But it was his face that drew and held her attention as Chance guided her out of the limo. The slash of cheekbones and the hair hanging loose to his shoulders made her think of ancient warriors. The hint of the savage in contrast with the elegant clothes and surroundings made for a devastating effect. She had a moment to absorb the impression as he shook hands with Steven Bradford. When he took her hand and looked into her eyes, a quick prickle of unease moved through her.

For a second, just until he released her hand, she had the uncanny sensation that he could see right through her. It passed the moment he smiled at her.

“I’m so glad I made an exception and allowed Steven to bring you along.”

“So am I.” The smile she sent him was genuine. “You have a lovely place.”

“It’s even lovelier now,” he said. Lifting a hand, he signaled for a man who wore a uniform identical to the one the driver had worn. “Show Mr. Bradford and Miss Calli to the Venetian room.” Then he turned to Steven. “Make yourselves at home in any way you wish. I’m giving a small party tonight so that my guests can get to know one another.”

Steven frowned. “I’m a busy man. I didn’t come to party.”

Brancotti smiled and shook his head. “So American. You’ll have to learn to relax and enjoy my hospitality.”

Then he turned and led the way into the house.

A PRICKLE OF UNEASE had worked its way up Chance’s spine the moment that Carlo had said the words Venetian room. It moved through him once more as he read the same words on the engraved brass plate that adorned the door to the suite they were shown into. Venetia and Venetian. Was the name of the suite a coincidence or Carlo’s way of letting him know that he was aware of who he was?

A part of his mind said no. There was no one at the agency who knew that he was coming here as Steven Bradford. Still, his mind raced as he watched Natalie move around the suite and peer through the French doors that led to a small balcony. She was playing her part beautifully, just the right mixture of sex kitten and wide-eyed innocent. And he was finding the combination fascinating. So damn fascinating that in spite of his resolution, he hadn’t been able to resist her when she’d begun to seduce him on the plane.

“Look, we have a view of the pool and the ocean.” Then she was skirting around the valet who’d escorted them to the room, and opening the door to an adjoining bath.

“Wow!” she said. “The shower takes up the whole wall, and there’s a hot tub.”

“Will there be anything else, sir?” the valet asked.

“No.” Chance followed the valet to the door. Before he closed it, he glanced once more at the brass plate.

Brancotti might suspect any one of the guests he’d invited to the estate. He might even put Steven Bradford at the top of his list. But he couldn’t know for sure.

Still, he should tell Natalie that they might be under suspicion. When he turned back into the room, she was moving through the suite, running her hands over the polished surfaces of old antiques, oohing and aahing. If Brancotti was listening, he’d hear a girl raised in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains nearly going into ecstasy over his home. He might be rattled, but Detective Natalie Gibbs was doing her job, checking for any hidden cameras or small microphones.

Emotions streamed through him—admiration and something he couldn’t quite put a name to. She was getting to him, and for both their sakes, he couldn’t let that distract him from the job he’d come here to do.

“This is so lovely,” she cooed as she climbed onto the bed and ran her fingers over the carved headboard. Then she stretched out on the mattress and sent him a quick grin. “Any idea about what we could do to while the time away until that dinner party?”

“You could take a swim in the pool,” he suggested.

“Too hot.” She made a face as she rolled over and then dropped her chin on her hands.

“I need to work,” he said.

She made another face. “Too boring.”

Moving to the bed, he took her hand and drew her up and off the mattress. “Why don’t you try out the hot tub?”

She locked her arms around his neck. “Why don’t we try it out together?”

“I really need to get some work done.” But he leaned closer, caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth and whispered, “What did you find?”

Keeping her arms looped around his neck, she drew back and mouthed the words. “No cameras, two mikes here in the bedroom. One mike in the bathroom.” Then she said aloud, “Oh, Steven, you worked on the plane.”

“I need to talk to you,” he whispered right against her ear. “Tonight, during the party, find an excuse to entice me away for a while. We’ll walk along the beach.”

“Oh, Steven.” Her voice was a throaty purr as she drew back again. “You’re always working. Can’t we play? Just a little?”

Pursing her lips in a little pout, she pulled his tie loose. Then before he could even think to stop her, she was working on his belt.

“Calli.”

“I want you.”

Quite suddenly, he wanted her. Calli, Rachel, Natalie. They were all parts of the same woman, and he wanted them all. But they had a job. They should both rest.

The thought slipped away as her hand enclosed him.

“You know I can’t go for very long without sex. It’s a curse.” She kissed him then, making sure that every soft curve of her body was pressed fully against his.

Chance flipped on the stereo beside the bed to mask the noises he knew they would make and then eased her back onto the mattress. “Then we’re both damned.”

NATALIE HAD to hand it to Carlo Brancotti. The man knew how to throw a party. Dinner had been a sumptuous seven-course affair served in a room that reminded her of a medieval dining hall. Her dinner partner had been a portly British gentleman, Sir Arthur Latham, who’d seemed sincerely interested in Calli’s aspirations in the modeling field. The woman on her left had looked vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t until Sir Arthur had introduced her that Natalie realized she was Risa Manwaring, a retired actress who had married a British lord.

By the time they’d finished with dessert, Risa had the name of her agent as well as a list of her most recent modeling jobs.

At the far end of the table, “Steven” had been seated to Carlo’s immediate right, and as far as she could tell, the conversation between the two men hadn’t flagged once.

Were she and Chance being tested—or was she just being paranoid? Natalie had always found that when she was doing undercover work, a little paranoia was a good thing. But hers had been increasing steadily from the moment she’d looked into Carlo Brancotti’s eyes that afternoon.

She was pretty sure that Chance was feeling the same way. She’d felt the tension in him escalate the moment they’d entered their suite. There’d been that urgent request that she lure him away from the party. And she’d sensed an even greater urgency when they’d made love. What did he need to tell her?

Whatever it was, he was willing to wait until they could be absolutely sure that no one was eavesdropping. So it was important, but not urgent.

The gathering at dinner had been small—under a dozen in all. Besides Sir Arthur and Lady Latham and the retired film star, there’d been two Japanese gentlemen, the Motos—father and son. Natalie recognized them as the two men she’d seen playing tennis earlier in the day. She’d also been introduced to the Demirs, a distinguished-looking businessman and his wife from Turkey, and another man with very hard eyes—Armand Genovese. Carlo’s personal assistant Lisa had rounded out the number. Though she wasn’t sure why, Natalie had expected more guests.

Once Carlo had led the way from the dining room to the conservatory for after-dinner drinks, the men had retired to the patio to sample some of his cigars. Natalie had toyed with the idea of joining them and insisting on sampling one herself, but had decided at the last moment that it wasn’t something that Calli would have done.

Instead, she joined the four other women as Lisa led them on a guided tour of the flowers growing in the conservatory. It wasn’t difficult to keep her expression awestruck as she admired more varieties of orchids than she’d ever seen. The fact was, she wasn’t finding it difficult at all to be Catherine Weston.

Maybe it was the fact that the woman was about as uncomplicated as they came. She’d come from nothing and her ticket to the big time in modeling was Steven Bradford. Natalie Gibbs might not have gone about it the same way, but she could certainly admire Calli’s single-minded determination to make a different kind of life for herself.

After all, wasn’t that what she’d tried to do with her own life? For twenty-six years she’d lived with the fear that she was her father’s daughter—that she might be tempted to follow in his footsteps. She’d joined the D.C. police because she’d wanted to make sure that she satisfied her desire for adventure on the right side of the law.

And now as Calli she had the opportunity to have her cake and eat it, too. A diamond heist—it didn’t get much better than that.

She was even beginning to like the wardrobe that Chance had picked out for Calli. Natalie fingered the spaghetti straps that held up the silky white sheath she was wearing. Whether or not they made the man, clothes definitely made the woman. Each time she dressed in one of the outfits, she felt that she came to a deeper understanding of the part she was playing. Or perhaps, she was coming to a deeper understanding of herself.

When she’d slipped into the silky white dress that Chance had selected for her tonight, she’d instantly felt both beautiful and desirable. Natalie Gibbs rarely allowed herself to feel either of those ways.

But then the old Natalie would never have worn a dress that stopped at midthigh. Nor would she have thought of seducing a man twice in one day. No, three times. She had plans for that walk on the beach.

“It’s a lovely room, isn’t it?”

Natalie turned to smile at Sir Arthur’s wife, Lady Latham. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

The glass walls and ceiling of the conservatory allowed a view of a starlit sky, and the air was scented with exotic flowers and candle wax. A small band tucked in a corner and surrounded by potted palms was playing a movie theme she couldn’t quite place.

“But you’re missing your young man?”

Natalie smiled. “A bit.”

“Carlo is European and old-fashioned. He still honors an old tradition that men and women separate for a time after dinner. That is not the case in America, am I correct?”

“Yes, that is not the case in America.”

Lady Latham smiled at her. “Well, maybe you were right to fight for your independence. But don’t tell Sir Arthur I said that.”

Natalie pantomimed locking her lips and then throwing away the key. She was beginning to like Lady Latham very much.

“You ought to go out there and lure your Steven away. A man with someone like you doesn’t need imported cigars or the poker game that Carlo will entice them into next.”

Natalie studied the woman for a minute. Though she was well into her sixties, she could see that Lady Latham must have been quite a beauty in her day. The smile she saw in the pale gray eyes looked sincere. “I promised Steven to be on my best behavior tonight. He wants to conclude his business with Carlo as quickly as possible.”

Lady Latham’s brows shot up. “There won’t be any business done until tomorrow or the next day. Hassam Aldiri’s plane was delayed, and he won’t arrive until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. Carlo will wait for him. Hassam has a lot of money. Even if he decides that he doesn’t want the diamond, I doubt that Carlo will want to offend him.”

“Well…in that case.” Flashing Lady Latham a conspiratorial smile, she moved toward the doors she’d seen the men exit through earlier. The night air was warm in spite of the breeze from the ocean, but one quick glance told her that the patio was empty. Hurrying toward the balustrade that separated it from the sprawl of gardens below, she caught sight of the men seated at tables in a small candlelit gazebo.

“I understand Steven has a weakness for poker.”

Natalie pressed a hand to her heart as she turned to face Carlo. She hadn’t heard him approach. “Yes, he can never resist a game. How did you know?”

“I make it a point to get to know the people I do business with.”

Though she couldn’t see his eyes as clearly as she had earlier, Natalie felt the intensity of his gaze. “I was hoping to lure him away for a walk on the beach.”

Carlo held out his arm. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to stand in for him?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Natalie said with a shy smile. “I had more than walking in mind.”

“Ah.” Lifting a hand, he drew a finger down her cheek. “I would be delighted to be his substitute for that also.”

“Oh no. I could never…” She and Chance had discussed the possibility that Carlo would make a move on her, but she hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

For a moment he said nothing. Natalie waited. She was pretty sure that Carlo Brancotti was not a man who accepted rejection easily. This might blow her chance of ever getting that private tour. Finally, she saw the quick flash of his smile. “I admire loyalty. It’s a precious commodity.”

Natalie eased away a step so that he was forced to withdraw his hand. The last thing she wanted to do was alienate Carlo Brancotti, but she had no choice except to react to the situation the way she believed that Catherine Weston would react. “I don’t want to interrupt Steven’s game, so I think I’ll retire to my room,” she said.

“I apologize if I offended you. I want you to feel perfectly comfortable and enjoy your stay here.” He smiled again and held out his hand. “Could we, as you Americans say, wipe the slate clean and begin again?”

“Sure.” She put her hand in his and felt the warm press of his palm before he released hers.

When she turned to go back into the conservatory, he placed a hand on her arm. “Please. I will feel that I have failed as a host if you retire so early. How about if I offer you a tour of the gardens or the house—or both?”

Natalie hesitated, then smiled. “I’d love to see both. Steven has a couple of great homes—a ranch and a house he just built outside of L.A.—but I’ve never seen anything like this place. How old is it?”

“It’s relatively new.” He didn’t touch her but merely held his hand out to indicate the direction. “I bought the house from a Saudi Prince two years ago, but the gardens are new. Flowers are my passion.”

“I admire anyone who can grow things,” she said enthusiastically as he guided her down a circular stair. “Not that I have a green thumb. I don’t. But I love flowers.”

“It’s a passion that we share then,” Carlo said as he urged her toward a door beneath the stairs. “Shall we start with the house and save the best until last?”

10

CHANCE HELD three royal ladies in his hand, but the woman who held his attention wasn’t in the cards he’d been dealt. She was standing on the patio talking to Carlo Brancotti. And she could handle herself. Wasn’t that the reason he’d been so determined to get Natalie Gibbs for this job?

“Are you in, Mr. Bradford?”

Silently cursing himself, Chance glanced back down at his cards.

Natalie was focused on the job. He was the one who was allowing himself to be distracted. The truth was that whenever he made love to her he became so drawn into the moment that he almost forgot that he was here to do a job. When he glanced back up at the patio, it was empty.

Chance ruthlessly suppressed the mix of panic and anger that tangled in his stomach. Natalie had made her plan clear. She was going to persuade Carlo to give her a tour. Obviously, the plan was working.

But Venetia had been following a plan, too.

“Are you in or out?” Armand Genovese’s voice was thin with impatience.