why not destroy them? I can’t believe they’d want them around after the threat of war had passed.”
“That’s what I asked. Apparently it’s got something to do with the rubies.”
“The real ones?”
“Yep. They wanted them out of England, too, so hiding them with the fakes was the method everyone settled on to get them out without suspicion.”
The large helping his mother set down before him still steamed from its time in the oven, and a fleeting image of Lilah drifted through his thoughts as he took in the feather-light mix of eggs and piecrust. Pushing the enticing picture away, he focused on the plate. “Jeez, Mom. I’m not a growing boy anymore.”
“You’ll always be a growing boy to me.” She took her seat opposite him and leaned forward, the large strand of pearls around her neck nearly in her slice of quiche. “Come on, come on. Tell me more. Have you seen the rubies?”
“Yes.”
Her back went poker straight, the pearls slamming against her chest with a thud. “Reed Edward Graystone, you’ve seen royal jewels and it took you all this time to tell me?”
“I’m doing my job.”
“And I’m a woman who loves a good piece of decoration. Tell me about them.”
“They were gifted to George and Elizabeth by a maharajah or someone of his ilk.”
His mother went off in a fit of fancy and he gave her a minute, stuffing himself with the delicious quiche while she ranted about the Queen Mother, Queen Elizabeth and him touching something that belonged to royalty.
“Can I see them?”
He glanced up from his now-empty plate, the last bite already vanished between his lips. “They’re evidence.”
“I’d still like to see them.” She lifted her fork and pointed it at him. “And don’t talk with your mouth full.”
He washed the last of his lunch down with the iced tea and nodded his acknowledgment. “Well, they’re not mine to show. The women have the stones. The ones who own Elegance and Lace.”
“But you just said they’re evidence.”
“Technically, they’re property. Of the landlady, who is fine with the women holding on to them.”
“But you need them for this case. And if someone’s already ransacked their business, I’d think they would want the police to hold on to the jewels.”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“How complicated?”
“How much time do you have?”
* * *
Lilah had forgotten the consult.
She never forgot their schedule, and the very fact she’d nearly missed the meeting Violet had scheduled for them with one of their October brides had left her already-raw nerves flustered and frayed.
“What are we going to serve Amanda and Quinn?”
“I’ve got it, Vi.” Lilah stomped around the kitchen, dragging a glass serving dish from one of the cabinets. She had the Bavarian cream and she had a tray of the thick pastries. All she needed to do was add the rich mixture and she’d have cream puffs.
“Can I help you?”
Lilah eyed Violet over her shoulder. “Touch my food and die.”
Violet’s gaze never wavered, but she finally gave one hard nod. “You sure you’re up to this today? Gabby’s coming over to cover off the catering portion, and Cassidy and I can run interference for the items Elegance and Lace is responsible for. I can come back and get the cream puffs in a few minutes.”
“Get out, Vi.”
“Lilah—”
“Out.”
Violet stalked off on the stilts she habitually wore, their heavy clicking only adding to the tension headache throbbing in her temples.
She’d be ready. She’d be fine. And she’d be brilliant, to boot.
Oh hell.
Lilah glanced down at her chest and saw the evidence that she was anything but fine. Her chef’s coat had a large smear of cream and eggs running down dead center, both of which had crusted over into an unappealing yellow roughly the color of baby vomit.
“Damn it.”
Powering through the cream puffs—she had a little over a dozen plated in moments—she then raced for the small collection of clothes she kept in her office alcove for just this reason. Her anger at Violet’s prim and annoying tone still simmered as she stomped into her office. Mad with self-righteous anger, Lilah shrugged off her unbuttoned coat and flung it on the ground as she bent over, digging through the bottom drawer of her desk.
Her hand closed around a pale pink sweater set and she grabbed the cashmere like a lifeline. Who cared if it was a billion degrees outside? Violet had the AC cranked up to roughly match the air in the frozen tundra anyway.
Fingers tight on the material, she had the sweater up and out of the drawer and was already spinning around when she came face-to-face with Reed Graystone.
As she stood, unmoving, in her pale pink bra.
* * *
She’d already given him the satisfaction of a scream that very morning and she’d be damned if she was going to do it again. But neither could she stop the jackrabbit hammer of her heart in her chest as Reed stood stock-still, those delicious gray eyes wide in his face.
“You—” he managed to get out before he took a few determined steps away from her. “You should probably change.”
Despite the awkward moment, she couldn’t quite shake the satisfaction that bloomed in her chest at his appreciative gaze. Nor could she fully shake the tight ball of heat that had taken up residence in her stomach. He was an attractive man, and at the moment, she had his full attention.
Her gaze dipped lower, pleased to see she appeared to have all of his attention.
Ignoring the small thrill that shot through her, Lilah shut the door, even if it was an unnecessary formality. He’d already turned his back and had moved into the main part of the kitchen. She slipped into the sweater set, adding a quick fluff to her hair before she opened the door once more.
And felt her breath catch as she took in the long, lean lines of him.
Damn, but the man really was a vision. Trim waist, long legs and a rather impressive set of shoulders. He wasn’t skinny, but she suspected he’d leaned that way in school. No longer. Mother Nature, puberty and what she suspected was a fair amount of gym time to keep up with his job had sculpted him into a rather impressively built man.
Shaking
