the pieces, while we wait for dinner?”
He assented. She turned on a light, and laid out her pieces.
Her work was stunning. The designs were bold and yet delicate, imbued with a sense of simmering danger, and the hidden weapons were as cunning and ingenious as they were effective. He understood why Steele’s work was becoming a hot investment. It was unique, timeless. The businessman inside him that desperately wanted to be let out was intrigued, already calculating the profits that could be had by organizing a private auction to select clients of Capriccio Consulting.
He tried not to dwell on how badly he wished his act was real.
A discreet knock indicated that their meal had arrived. Two attractive Asian women entered, clad in skintight, jewel-toned silk brocade dresses, pushing a rolling tray full of fragrant, steaming dishes.
Dinner was essentially a duel. He continued his attempt to flirt with her. She would lead him on for a few dance steps and then slam the door in his face. She ate little, despite the savory perfection of the food, and preferred the steaming green tea to the sake that accompanied the meal. He was pouring her another cup when her cell phone chimed.
She pulled it from some hidden pocket in her pants and glanced at the display, frowning. “Please excuse me for a moment.”
She retreated to the far corner of the room, and stood with her back to him, muttering in Portuguese, in a tone he wasn’t meant to overhear. “…yes, I told you she needs a bath…well? So? She always has a cold! If I only bathed her when she didn’t have a cold, she’d never be bathed at all…so heat the bathroom, and dry her hair…Cristo Santo, Rosalia, you’ll survive if she screams. I survive when she screams…no, not the yogurt. She’s constipated. Give her the fruit, and the bran cookies if she wants another snack…how should I know where the fuzzy pink blanket is? Look in the laundry room, or under the covers of my bed…”
The hot buzz that had been building up in his balls vanished.
The child. He’d been so titillated by his seductive role, he’d let his lies and his lust become almost real.
And this was his chance when she wasn’t looking. Her jewelry carrying case sat on the floor within arm’s reach. He had no idea if the room had hidden cameras. He weighed the risks and made his choice.
He poked the tiny, missile-shaped RF beacon needle tip right through the black leather of the case and insinuated it beneath. It left a tiny misshapen bulge, but by the time she noticed, it would no longer matter. It would only monitor her for maybe thirty-six hours, having so little battery power.
But Imre only had a couple of days, in any case.
“…so tell her I’ll be back soon. And only Elmo, or Pooh. The other ones give her nightmares. Yes. Just a couple of hours. ’Til then.”
She clicked the phone shut. He sensed rather than heard her sigh of frustration.
“You have a child?” he said quietly.
She whipped around, alarmed. “You speak Brazilian Portuguese?”
He shrugged. “Romance languages,” he said lightly. “Spanish, French, Italian, Romanian. You learn one, you learn them all.”
“Hmmph.” She gazed at him, eyes wide. He had scared her.
“Tell me about your daughter,” he urged.
Her haughty chin lifted. “I do not discuss my private life with strangers.”
He gave her a coaxing smile. “I am still a stranger?”
“Let’s focus on business,” she said crisply. “Why am I here, Mr. Janos? Talk. And be succinct, please.”
He displayed appropriate good-humored disappointment at being frozen out. “Very well. I am interested in organizing a private auction. Many of my clients are already eager to acquire your work. Once I put out the word, there will be a quiet stampede. And I have the perfect setting for it, too. A friend of mine owns a restored medieval masseria in San Sebastiano, near Naples, where we could organize a weekend event, and if you came—”
“Why the hell would I come?” Her voice was sharp.
“Your presence would be a huge draw,” he assured her. “Your mystery, your secrecy, your beauty.”
She gave him a disdainful look.
He persisted. “I am serious. Nothing stimulates people to spend money more than feeling part of an exclusive club. The commisions you will get for future pieces will keep you busy for years. You could earn hundreds of thousands, Ms. Steele. Perhaps seven figures.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and pondered him. “And you?” she asked. “What do you earn, Mr. Janos?”
He shrugged. “A modest percentage, of course.”
“Modest,” she purred. “A dangerous word. Very subjective, especially when it comes to money.”
“Never mind the money. We can hammer out the financial details later. For now, think about it. You come to San Sebastiano, enjoy a sensual, profitable weekend, and then disappear again to your secluded privacy with a sack of money. Why not?”
“It sounds dangerous,” she said.
“Not at all,” he assured her. “The place is private, the guests hand-picked, the security good, the time interval brief.”
“It’s dangerous because you are dangerous,” she said.
“You are more than what you seem. Or less. Shall I tell you why?”
Her words chilled him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Let me tell you all about yourself.” She gave him a coaxing, overly sweet smile. “Then tell me if I hit the mark. Think of it as a get-to-know-you game. Wasn’t that what you wanted? To know me better?”
He sensed a trap, but threw up his hands, galantuomo to the last gasp. “How can I refuse a lady?”
Chapter
7
Tam cupped her tea in both hands and inhaled the steam as she studied his face. She didn’t like to admit it to herself, but it was taking more energy than she’d expected to withstand the gale force of this man’s sex appeal. Not just the language but even the way she talked changed in his presence.
Erin had not been kidding. For some reason, Tam had been expecting a generic, male-model sort of handsomeness. Which was unfair. Erin was married to Connor, after all, and even Tam could appreciate his craggy, fierce good looks. Even at her moodiest.
But still. She was utterly unprepared for…well, him.
Lethal. It was the first word that came to mind, even though it embarrassed her. He was so solid, so hard looking. Dynamic, and yet calm and focused. Nothing soft about him, except for the gloss of that thick brush of black hair. She wanted to touch it, just to see if it really was as soft as mink. Gypsy dark eyes, inky brows and lashes. The planes and angles of his face were starkly masculine, arrogantly sensual,
