“And you don’t think that’s dangerous?”
“I’m saying I think I can pull it off without anything personal getting in the way.”
He’d likely kiss her. In fact, she was positive he’d kiss her. And that was fine. What was a kiss? She could handle a kiss.
“And if you can’t?” Jennifer asked.
Darci took a measure and positioned the level on the wall.
“If you’ve got a better idea,” she said, “I’m all ears.”
“You’ve checked the entire Colborn records center?”
“I’m still working through the stacks. I haven’t found anything that old in the computer system. But there are a lot of files on paper only. It’s going to take some time.”
“Maybe you should finish with the office first. It seems a lot safer.”
Darci made a mark with her pencil and reeled in the tape measure. “I’m doing it concurrently. I can’t spend the rest of my life at this.”
She needed to find her father’s schematic drawings, restore his reputation as an engineer, get justice for him and quit her job at Colborn.
“I suppose.” Jennifer sounded dubious.
“What exactly are you worried about?”
“That you’ll get caught, of course.”
Darci climbed back up the ladder, hammer and hook in hand. She had to admit, getting caught was a definite risk. She wasn’t an experienced spy or a cat burglar or a con artist. This playacting and clandestine snooping was definitely out of her comfort zone.
“I don’t think it’s a really serious crime.” She hammered as she spoke. “It’s not like I’m taking anything valuable. I’ll even give it all back, once I’ve proved my point.”
Jennifer spoke over the sound of tearing paper. “If you’re right, those drawings could net you millions and millions of dollars.”
Darci countered, “It’s not about the money.”
“Maybe not to you. But it’s definitely going to be about the money to Shane Colborn. All the money he stands to lose. What do you think a man like that would do to protect millions of dollars?”
Darci gave a laugh and went back to work. “You think he’ll lock me in the tower or hire a hit man?”
“Hit men have been hired over a lot less.”
“You’ve been watching too many crime dramas. Quit worrying. Now, tell me you didn’t call Ashton today.”
“I didn’t call Ashton today.” But there was a thread of guilt in Jennifer’s tone.
This time Darci turned more slowly, gazing incredulously at Jennifer, who was balancing a painting against her legs. “You’re lying.”
“I didn’t talk to him. I swear.”
“But you tried,” Darci guessed. “You tried, but you didn’t get through?”
Jennifer glanced guiltily down. “I got his voice mail.”
Darci groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t leave a message.”
“I didn’t leave a message.” Again, there was a distinct thread of guilt in Jennifer’s tone.
“But?”
“I might have breathed for about five seconds. But I made the right choice. I hung up. I didn’t say anything.”
“He’ll see your number.”
“It’s blocked. I blocked it.”
“So that you could call Ashton?”
Jennifer tapped her fingertips along the top edge of the painting. “Maybe.”
“We need to get you into a twelve-step program.”
“Big talk from a woman embarking on a life of crime.”
“My life of crime will have a net positive outcome. You calling Ashton is only going to mess up your life.”
“I wish I could say you were wrong.” Jennifer lifted the painting, then stepped forward to hand it up to Darci. “It’s not that I can’t see the danger. But he’s like chocolate-ribbon cookie dough. You know you’ll regret it in the end, but sometimes a girl just has to go for it.”
“You’re making me hungry.”
Jennifer grinned while Darci turned to position the center painting.
“How’s that?” Darci asked.
Jennifer took a few steps back. “Perfect.”
She retrieved the next largest painting and passed it to Darci.
Darci married the hook to the hanger. Then she stepped down to see how they looked.
“The spacing looks right to me,” said Jennifer.
There was about four inches of cream-colored wall between the two connected oils.
“You’ve given me a craving for ice cream,” said Darci.
“We don’t have any ice cream. But I do have a box of almond-caramel crunch.”
“Bring it on.”
While Jennifer went for the chocolates, Darci moved the ladder and measured for the next picture hook.
“Tell me about your upcoming date,” Jennifer called from the kitchen.
“Dinner and wine on his deck. My plan so far is to get him to the wine cellar, pretend I need the restroom, then snoop my way through the basement.”
“And if he comes after you?”
“I’ll pretend I’m lost.”
“It might work,” Jennifer conceded.
On her return, she picked up the remote control and put on the TV in the living area. A news reporter’s voice filled the background.
“He might get suspicious.” Darci hung picture number three, then stepped back, liking how it looked. “But he’s never going to guess the truth.”
“Maybe he’ll think you’re a reporter writing an expose on him,” said Jennifer.
“You think?” That hadn’t occurred to Darci.
“You wouldn’t be the first.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look,” said
