screamed, “Look, but don’t touch,” a challenge no man could resist.
To his eternal shame, he wanted her in spite of knowing what she’d done. Wanted her with instant avarice and a healthy dose of anger. He wanted her under him, crying for mercy even as she cried out in passion and begged him to take her.
He’d never felt the heady mix of passion and anger before. Never understood its power, though he’d heard of it affecting other men.
Now he got it. It was nearly painful to be in the same room with a woman he’d desired on sight, but who’d swindled a valuable family heirloom from a helpless elderly woman.
Well, he could concede, his grandmother was not exactly helpless. She had a steel spine beneath her high-necked blouses—which made it even more imperative for him to get the painting back as soon as possible. The elderly woman was so embarrassed at having been tricked by the deceitful con artist that she’d refused to bring the police in on the case. She’d also forbidden him to tell Grandfather she’d let the painting be stolen. She’d concocted some story about it being on loan for an exhibit to keep the old man from asking any questions. She was relying on Ryan to bring it back before she could get caught.
“I can’t tell you how pleased we are that Architectural Digest is going to devote an article to the construction of our fair city,” Mamie said, interrupting his heated thoughts about the woman across the room.
The article. The reason Ryan was getting the red-carpet treatment here in Savannah. What perfect timing that he’d come here for an annual meeting, after being solicited to write a piece for the journal. He’d kill three birds with one stone.
The conference. The article. And the thief.
“Savannah has paved the way for other cities to save their historic treasures,” he replied, completely in earnest. “Anyone who wants to preserve treasured buildings of the past would look to your city as a fine example.”
The pudgy woman preened and not very subtly smoothed her hand over the low, tight neckline of her unattractive, fluffy green dress. Very tight. Very low cut. The wares were nearly spilling out, which was apparently what she wanted.
Ryan stiffened ever so slightly and took a small step back. His stance grew a bit more formal as he sent out a silent message that he hoped she’d get. He didn’t want to have to flat-out turn her down and risk alienating the woman who owned the inn he’d be sleeping in tonight. Particularly because he imagined she had keys to all the rooms.
He had a sudden mental flash of a fleshy woman creeping into his bed in the dead of night. Talk about your basic nightmares. He’d had flings with older women—his university guidance counselor came to mind—but never decades older.
Then the picture in his oversexed brain changed, and it wasn’t the proprietress face he imagined entering his room in the dark of night. He saw the thief—Jade—lovely and deceptive. Graceful and conniving. Intoxicating and completely ruthless.
The image of her dark black hair against his white sheets made him gulp a big mouthful of his drink.
“Are you all right, Mr. Stoddard?” Mamie asked as he coughed a bit into his fist.
“Fine,” he murmured. “Just…went down the wrong way.”
Everything about this situation had gone down the wrong way, from the minute his grandmother had told him she’d been robbed. First, tracking the wrong J. Maguire from Savannah, he’d wound up meeting the younger sister, Jenny, up in New York. He’d realized within hours that she wasn’t the right woman. Thankfully, he’d only taken her out to lunch once. So she wouldn’t have had any reason to mention him to her sister.
The second detective he’d hired—a better one—had found Jade, and his grandmother had confirmed the description. Ryan had taken the information and come to Savannah determined, in charge, using the cover of the convention and the article to get where he wanted to be—close to her.
Everything had gone fine. Right up until the moment he’d actually seen the woman he was after.
He could be in over his head with this one. It was somehow exciting, rather than disturbing, to imagine the sexy brunette sneaking into his room. Trying her tricks on him, creeping in to take something that belonged to him. Taking him.
He forced the traitorous thought away. Yes, she was damned attractive and he had to clench his fists to remind himself he had to trick her. Not take her.
Unfortunately.
“Well, if you need any help getting around,” Mamie said, not noticing his distraction, “I’d be more than happy to help you in any way.” She drew her hand to her throat again, flashing a big chunky rock on her ring finger and tapping her collarbone with the tip of her red-tinted fingernail.
Not on your best day, lady.
Since she hadn’t gotten the nonverbal hint, he gave her a broader one. “I’m also enjoying getting to meet some of the beautiful young women of your city.”
That seemed to get through. The woman was twenty years his senior, at least, with a husband dangling around here somewhere, probably downing drinks wondering how he was going to pay for her next party. Not to mention her next diamond.
“Well, there’s no shortage of those.” This time Mamie’s smile was somewhat forced.
“What about her?” Ryan asked, nodding toward Jade, who stood talking with an older woman in a Southern-belle ball gown.
Mamie’s mouth stiffened even more. “Jade Maguire. She can show you some things, all right. She owns one of those trashy tour guide companies that prey on out-of-towners who like to be scared out of their wits with silly ghost stories at night.”
Nothing he hadn’t known. The private detective he’d ordered to track down the right J. Maguire had sent a file on Jade’s company, Stroll Savannah, which had become one of the most popular tourist traps since she’d opened it a few years ago.
He knew where she lived. Where she’d gone to school. What she liked to drink and when she liked to eat. Who she employed. Who she dated—nobody, really, which had been a surprise. When she traveled and where she went.
He’d been prepared for everything. Everything except how beautiful she was.
“You can find better tour guides,” Mamie said.
The biting tone in the woman’s voice was a surprise. Then again, he imagined a woman who looked like Jade got a lot of jealous responses from overweight, aging society matriarchs. He was about to put the woman in her place, some unexpected instinct making him want to defend Jade, a woman he personally had hated for weeks. But before he could do so, Mamie continued.
“Her father was just an Irish bartender.”
“So she’s not a native of the city?”
Mamie shrugged, then grudgingly conceded, “She’s actually part of a long lineage of Savannians. On her mother’s side. Her father’s name was Maguire, but her mother’s maiden name was Dupré.” The woman leaned close, looking around to ensure she wasn’t being overheard. “Some of those Duprés…well, they’re not quite the purest family line, if you know what I mean.”
He didn’t.
