like some fool painting daisies into a Monet. Perfection spoiled. He forced himself onto a patio chair, peeled off his shirt because he was suddenly far too warm and poured coffee instead.
She bobbed up at the side of the pool, folding her arms along the coping. “Hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t resist a quick dip. We have a pool in our apartment building, but it’s indoors.” She wrinkled her nose as though that were a cardinal sin.
“Take all the time you like. I’m enjoying the view.”
She tilted her head. “Not misinterpreting, I hope.”
“I’ll have to admit,” he said, taking a sip of strong black coffee to jolt his mind back up where it belonged, “your…lack of inhibition did take me in a certain direction. I now stand corrected.”
She smiled and lithely hoisted herself from the water and onto the deck in one fluid movement. Like Venus rising from the sea. She padded to the table with water flowing from her lightly tanned skin like drops of molten gold, and reached for his cup. She put it to her lips with eyes closed and long lashes sparkling with water droplets. He had to grip the arms of his chair to keep from surging to his feet to lick them off. Along with the rivulets trickling down her perfect breasts.
He stifled a groan.
She set the cup down on the table. “Give me a minute,” she said. “I’ll get dressed.” Then she disappeared into the cabana.
He cleared his throat, found his voice and called after her, “Don’t bother on my account!”
And he knew then if he hadn’t before—which deep down he had, but up until this very moment had chosen total, blind denial. One thing was for damned certain.
He had to have her.
Really have her. All to himself. For a few days. A week. Maybe even a month. Long enough to explore that chatterbox mouth with its guileless smile, that amazingly sensual body and the wonderfully sassy woman inside it.
Oh, yeah. He’d have her, all right.
He’d find a way to make her want him.
And the sooner the better.
Or he might just go completely out of his mind.
Chapter 8
“I have a proposition for you.”
Vera halted her coffee cup halfway to her mouth and glanced at Conner. “What kind of proposition?” she asked. Like she couldn’t guess.
Frankly, she’d been expecting this. She was actually surprised he’d managed to hold out as long as he had. Nearly a whole hour. While they’d talked of her childhood, his crazy relationship with his famous cousins and what it was like to stare up at the night sky out in the vast desert and see a billion gazillion stars up there and wonder if there was any other life in the universe.
Nevertheless, disappointment sifted through her. For some unfathomable reason, she’d thought he might be different from all the other men who tried to get in her pants. She’d hoped he was different. He’d been lost in thought for the past few minutes, and she’d really believed he was adjusting his perception of her. Starting to see her as a whole person and not just a nude body onstage or an easy seduction in an elevator.
Oh, well.
“More like an exchange of services,” he explained.
“Uh-huh.”
Her expression must have betrayed her skepticism, because he rushed to say, “I’d pay you, of course.”
She set down her cup very, very carefully. “For what, Conner?”
He exhaled. “You know that deal I made with Duncan for your release? Well, there was more to it than just reporting in on Darla’s movements.”
Okay, he’d managed to surprise her. Not that this sounded much better than some kind of sexual favor. “Like what?” she asked cautiously.
“I promised I’d help him find out about the jewel theft ring Darla’s allegedly part of. Try to narrow down suspects for him.”
“I told you I don’t know anything about that.”
“But I’d like your help investigating.”
“Me?”
“I’ve been thinking about how much you look like Darla. It’s obvious you’re her sister. You could get people to talk to you. A lot easier than I could.”
“But I don’t know anyone involved,” she said. “Who would I talk to?”
“That’s what I need your help figuring out. I’ll bet someone from her circle of friends is either in on the jewelry thefts or knows something about the ring of thieves doing them. You’ve met most of her friends, right?”
“Well. Not really. Only the ones who’ve been to parties at our apartment or who we’ve occasionally gone out with together, like to casinos or clubs. But that doesn’t happen very often. And very few know I’m her sister. We’ve mostly passed off our resemblance just as a fun coincidence.”
He tilted his head. “Really? And she didn’t invite you to other people’s parties? Social events? That sort of thing?”
She glanced away. To her credit, Darla had invited her to lots of things. Vera had even gone. Once. And stood in a corner the whole time paralyzed with feelings of inadequacy. “I don’t really fit into her social stratosphere.”
He regarded her for a moment. “Her evaluation or yours?”
“Mine,” she admitted with a shrug. “And my father’s. He threatened to disown Darla if she spread it around that he’d spawned an illegitimate child. He’d make my life hell if it got out.”
“I assume you’re talking about Maximillian St. Giles.”
“Daddy dearest.” She sighed. After twenty-four years, you’d think she’d be used to the hurt. But it still cut like a shard of glass to the heart when she thought about his categorical rejection.
“What could he possibly have against you?” Conner asked, echoing the question she’d asked herself a thousand times. Always with the same answer.
She looked back at Conner. “I take my clothes off for a living. And I suppose I remind him of his vulnerability. Or failings. Or both.”
“And whose fault is all that? Not yours.” He shook his head. “The man’s a dolt. If I had a daughter as smart, gorgeous and determined as you, I’d be showing her off to everyone, not hiding her away like she was something to be ashamed of. I wouldn’t care how she came into the world.”
Vera blinked, blindsided by the sincere indignation in Conner’s voice…on her behalf. No one had ever defended her honor so vehemently. No one.
She swallowed the lump that welled up in her throat. “Thanks. Too bad he’s not quite as
