Caught

No matter how wrong for her he might be, something about Alex’s voice always sent a warm shiver through her, whatever she was thinking, whatever she was doing. Julia opened her eyes and gave her visitor a bland look. “Well, if it isn’t the infamous Alex Spencer.”

He leaned against her doorway, looking like some GQ model in his expensive suit and hand-dyed silk tie. “Miss me?”

She rolled her eyes. “How can I miss you when you won’t go away?”

“I can’t go away. I have to stick around to keep you from falling asleep at your desk.” He clicked his tongue at her. “Maybe if you got to bed at a decent hour, you’d be more awake.”

“Sometimes I get pestered by late-night callers,” she said.

“You shouldn’t answer the door, then.”

“I’ll remember that next time.” She folded her hands in front of her. “So what can I do for you, Mr. Spencer?”

“A favor.” He stepped into the office and her lungs took a breath of their own accord. Honestly, there was nothing the man could do that wouldn’t look good. He had a gift for it, from his cropped dark hair spiked with just a bit of gel to his glossy Italian leather shoes. And she knew from personal experience that he looked just as effortlessly handsome in shorts and a polo shirt.

Or in nothing at all.

Maybe it was the thousand-watt smile, the square jaw, those green, green eyes. Eyes currently glimmering at her in humor, making her realize she’d been staring far too long. “Making notes for a portrait?” he asked.

“Wondering if I maybe saw you on the post office wall,” she replied. “So what’s the favor?”

“Someone I want you to see today. My sister’s got a friend who wants to bring in something for you to look at. She thinks it might be valuable—”

“Alex, no,” Julia was groaning before he’d even finished. “No, no, no. You know how it works. They’ve gone to a flea market or on holiday to Morocco and they’ve got some piece of trash they’re convinced is the real thing.”

“Maybe it is,” he suggested.

“And maybe it’s a tourist tchotchke. Do you have any idea how often I’ve looked at those kinds of things?” she pleaded. “They’re never real. Trust me, antiquities don’t just fall in a person’s lap.” But he had that gleam in his eye that he always got when he proposed something outrageous, she saw sinkingly, that look that always seemed to get her to do what he wanted.

“Look, it’s a favor for my sister. Why don’t you just give it a look and see what you think?”

“I have a better idea,” Julia said silkily. “Why don’t you look at it?”

“I’ve got to leave for lunch with a big donor—” he glanced at his sleek Bulova “—like, right now.”

“And I’ve got meetings all afternoon.”

“Then it’s good she’s coming this morning, isn’t it?”

That stopped her for a moment. “Well, aren’t we sure of ourselves,” she said tartly.

“Oh, come on, Julia, it’s five minutes. It’s for my sister. Family.”

And if she didn’t watch it, she’d cave to him yet again, just as she had the night before. With everyone else she was intelligent, self-possessed, in control. It was only with Alex that she lost the ability to say anything but yes. “I don’t have time,” she lied. “I don’t know what made you think I’d agree.”

Alex stepped inside and closed the heavy wooden door. “Maybe I could offer you something in return.” He ambled across the room looking amused, as though he could read her like the Sunday Post.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked uneasily, already feeling the treacherous flutter in her stomach.

He didn’t answer, just leaned on the corner of her desk. “You know that your eyes always get a little darker when I come close?” he asked conversationally, reaching out to take her hand. “And they definitely get darker when I do this,” he added, touching the tip of his tongue to her palm.

And lust just exploded through her. For an instant, all she wanted was to have him naked, against her, on top of her. In her. Outside in the hallway, voices passed by the door, chattering about the weekend.

Inside, Julia froze, mesmerized by a touch, staring, boneless. And she’d just sat there and let him do it, she thought in annoyance. She wasn’t the type to just melt because some good-looking guy stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, stroked it and stared at her and made her think of what else those hands could do….

“Stop it.” She rose hastily. “We’re at work, remember?” And if she didn’t get at least a few feet away from him, she wouldn’t care.

“Forget it.” Alex stood and circled around the desk toward her, easy, relaxed, making her think of one of those clever, nimble border collies. Which, she supposed, made her the sheep. “Look, the door’s closed. And it’s not like I’m planting one on you, as much as I’d like to,” he added, approaching her. Julia took a few wary steps away. “Anyway, who’s going to care? It’s not like we work in the same department.”

“Wait a minute. I care.” She held on to the sudden flare of anger like a shield. “I’m not going to be the latest watercooler topic.”

He grinned. “Sweetheart, if people haven’t figured out there’s something between us by now, they’re blind.”

Sweetheart. He had no right to use the word to snatch the breath from her lungs. “Well, they’re behind the times, because there’s nothing between us,” she snapped. “It’s over, all right? Done.”

Alex blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“Us. This…thing we’ve been having,” she said, throwing her hands in frustration. “I was out of my mind to start it, I’ve been out of my mind to keep it going and now I’m finished. Want me to be any clearer? I want you out of my life.”

She’d never seen Alex in anything but easy good humor, so it took her a moment to realize he was angry. “Where’s this coming from? You don’t just come out of nowhere and cut it off.”

“I’ll do whatever I want to.”

“You said we were going to talk tonight.”

“I’m done talking,” she flared.

He rounded on her. “That’s right, you don’t talk, do you? No talk, just sex. Don’t get to know each other, don’t find out about each other’s lives, just get together to scratch an itch. Well you know what, Julia? That’s a crock of—”

A knock on the door interrupted his furious words. For a breathless instant neither of them moved. Then Julia smoothed her trim claret suit and walked over to open the door. “Yes?”

She saw a couple outside, the woman looking tense, the man clasping her hand protectively. “Are you Julia Covington?” the woman asked.

Julia nodded.

“I’m Marissa Suarez. This is my…boyfriend, Jamie Wilson. Alex Spencer said you’d be expecting us.”

Alex stepped up behind Julia and the hairs on the back of her neck rose as though in a field of static electricity.

“I’m Alex,” he said, stepping around her to put out his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you both. Unfortunately I’m late for a lunch appointment, so I’ll have to leave you in Julia’s hands.” Only Julia would have seen the spark in his eyes. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to talk with you. Julia’s always happy to talk with anyone.”

JEAN LUC ALLARD walked into the museum, sneering inwardly at the guard who stood at the front door. So tall, so cocky in his uniform, with his gun. Pathetic. He could no more block a professional like Jean from his desires than could a child.

It was always so. Those who were robbed were the weak. He was one of the strong. No one bullied him, not since he’d become a man. Not since he’d left his whoreson of a father crumpled and bleeding in that Marseilles alley, maybe dead, maybe alive. Jean neither knew nor cared, as his father had never cared all the times he’d treated him like so much filth beneath his feet. It was a debt paid, nothing more.

Jean took what he wanted and prospered. After all, there was always a market for a man with certain…talents. His clients knew how to find him, and he knew how to get them what they wished.

Like the White Star amulet.