keep that in mind.” Swinging those long legs over the side of the bed, he planted his booted feet on the floor. “Right now I’ve got to get hotel security on the phone about the letter that was waiting for Miss Q when she arrived. I want them to question the desk clerks to see who dropped it off. Be ready to leave for the cocktail party at four.” He crossed the length of the bedroom in a few quick strides. “I’ll need a copy of your guest list. Miss Q said you had one.”
Lennon nodded, feeling a bit off balance, disappointed that she’d been so easily dismissed from their bantering.
She squelched that feeling fast. “I’ll get it for you. Josh?” she added, causing him to stop in the doorway. “Auntie Q got a threatening letter last night at the museum, one this morning at home and another today when she arrived here at the hotel. Do you think whoever’s harassing her may decide that frightening her isn’t getting the point across? Do you think he might try to really hurt her?”
His expression sobered, but he met her gaze with a promise in his. “Don’t worry. Olaf and I won’t let anything happen.”
For the first time since Josh had shown up, Lennon felt that perhaps Auntie Q had been right to call him.
4
A MAN WHO HADN’T HAD SEX since creating his own fireworks with a flight attendant over July Fourth weekend had no business holing up with a woman who looked like Lennon, Josh decided. Not if he expected himself to act with any self-control.
Dressed for the cocktail party, she was a vision in a clingy dress that molded her curves as though she’d been dipped in gold. Delicate chains flashed around her neck and wrists, drawing his attention to all the creamy skin exposed in between.
And her legs… Those strappy sandals should have been illegal the way they showed off graceful ankles, defined sleek calves until her legs seemed a mile long.
Josh’s pulse kicked hard, a reminder that July Fourth weekend had been seven months ago.
“Wow, black sheep. You clean up nicely.” She paused in the bedroom doorway and eyed him in a way that he didn’t think his several-years-old tux warranted. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you actually still belonged in our world.”
“Must have me confused with someone else.” The thought of making small talk at this party tonight was killing him.
“Nope, don’t think so.” When she smiled, shiny peach lipstick made her lips look ripe for kissing. “You may not choose to live the part, but you can’t rub off good breeding. It sticks like sugar on Monkey Bread.”
“Makes years of chasing bad guys a total waste.”
“Not necessarily.” Slinging the gold-chain strap of a handbag over her shoulder, she sauntered into the living room, each fluid stride making her dress shimmer over sleek curves.
Josh swallowed hard.
Popping open her handbag, she rooted through its contents, the smooth fall of blond hair sexily hiding her profile. “I thought I stuck my key in here. Lipstick. Blush. Mints.”
“I’ve got mine.”
“Ah, key.” She glanced at him, apparently ignoring the fact that she wouldn’t be out of his eyesight long enough to need her own key. “All set.”
“Let’s go. We need to do a walk-through of the gallery.” Preceding her to the door, he held it wide as she passed through, catching a whiff of her subtle spicy scent.
“I’m ready.”
And Josh was, too—damn his long-ignored libido.
But the protesters they encountered when their cab pulled up to the museum’s main entrance soon demanded his attention.
“I can’t believe they’re here so early,” Lennon said, peering out at the small crowd crossing streets and turning corners. It was a group of seemingly normal people Josh might expect to see commuting home on a Friday night for a weekend of watering lawns and family picnics.
Except for the signboards.
Don’t Confuse Art With Pornography!
Keep Smut away from our Local Treasures!
Lennon inhaled deeply, as though steeling herself for the unpleasant encounter ahead, and reached for the door handle.
“Not yet, chère.” Josh stayed her hand, before telling the driver, “Circle the block. We’ll let museum security deal with them, so Miss Q and Olaf won’t have to when they arrive.”
He retrieved his cell phone, dialed and waited for the call to connect. “Josh Eastman with private security for the Eastman Gallery. I’ve got protesters outside the main entrance….”
While they drove around waiting for security to disperse the crowd, Josh scanned the nearby rooftops for any signs of a threat and pondered the connection between the messages on the protesters’ signs and the letters Miss Q had received today.
Their messages mirrored almost exactly, but the format of the letters surprised him. To date, Miss Q had received only handwritten and computer-generated letters, yet both messages today had been pieced together from cutout magazine letters, like cheesy warnings from a B flick.
The connection between the messages and the protesters’ signs seemed obvious—too obvious. He mentally filed the concern, and by the time the entrance had been cleared and he’d paid the driver, Josh decided to have security arrange for the police to patrol the museum to keep any other such groups from forming.
Protesters provided the perfect cover to involve the police without raising the museum’s suspicions about the flash-and-bang attack. But unfortunately, the process took another thirty minutes and put them way behind on the walk-through of the sculpture garden and the new gallery.
As it was, they arrived at the reception along with the guests, but Miss Q didn’t seem to mind.
“Did you case the joint?” she asked breathlessly, apparently relishing being part of an active investigation.
Josh let Lennon explain about the protesters, and then mentioned the security measures he’d implemented.
“Oh, Josh Three,” Miss Q said. “I just knew you’d take care of everything. Now I don’t have to worry about this letter that was waiting for me when I arrived.” She plucked a folded white envelope from her handbag and handed him what proved to be another cut-and-paste warning: “Museums shouldn’t have XXX ratings!”
“How’d you get it?” he asked.
“From the clerk at the information desk. He said someone left it on the counter.”
Any of the protesters could have slipped inside the building unseen, so Josh didn’t hold much hope of discovering who’d delivered it. “I’ll talk with security.”
Miss Q beamed as though he’d made her day, and Josh couldn’t help feeling pleased that he’d reassured her. Her approval had always had a way of pumping him up.
“Olaf,” he said,
