Blood Ties in Chef Voleur

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’m not an international jewel thief. Every bit of that information can be found on the internet or in movies. The Thomas Crown Affair, for instance.”

She nodded, but a trace of unease began to stir under her breastbone. It was the same feeling that had been a part of her ever since she and Jack had gotten married. She loved him and she was sure he loved her, but occasionally, he’d send her a look or make a comment that worried her.

There was something wrong between them and she couldn’t figure out what it was. And every time she tried to talk to Jack about it, she ended up in his arms, making love.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go to bed. You need to get as much sleep as possible. I’ll guarantee you’re going to be sore tomorrow, and you’ll probably have at least one bruise.” He headed toward the bedroom.

“Okay. I’m just going to get the coffee ready to turn on in the morning.”

Alone for the first time since the party had started, Cara Lynn stood in the middle of the kitchen floor while tears slid down her cheeks. She’d done her best not to cry in front of her brothers or Jack, but everything that had happened had built up in her until she could no longer hold back.

From the instant she’d managed to clear her head after hitting it against the marble table, she’d called for Jack. When the lights came back on, she’d spotted him standing on a chair, looking over the crowd toward the French doors, in the direction the thief had run.

As soon as he’d heard her call, he’d turned around. He’d looked horrified at the blood on her face, but before he’d rushed to her side, he’d glanced back toward the French doors one more time.

She’d sensed the struggle in him, and she’d found it odd. He wasn’t like her brothers. Two cops, a former special forces officer and an attorney. She’d expected them to jump into action and they had. It was their training.

But Jack was an architect—and her husband. Why had his first thought been to pursue the thief rather than rush to her side to be sure she was okay?

Glancing cautiously toward her bedroom, she listened. She didn’t hear anything. However, if Jack was true to form, he’d be back in the kitchen in a few minutes to get some more water before turning in.

She opened her clutch and looked inside. Then she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been afraid she’d imagined slipping the old envelope out from between the pages of the journal and sliding it into her clutch when the lights had gone out.

Touching the slightly yellowing paper, she wondered if anyone else had noticed its corner sticking out between two pages of the journal. She didn’t think so. When she’ d lifted the journal out of the box she’d instinctively covered the corner with her fingers.

She wasn’t sure why her first instinct had been to keep its existence secret. She just knew she felt compelled to do so.

Then the lights had gone out and someone jerked the journal out of her hand. She’d held onto the envelope and her clutch with all her strength as a pair of rough hands pushed her down. She’d stumbled, hit her head and almost passed out, but she hadn’t let go of the envelope. Just as she was slipping it into her clutch, the emergency generator had growled and the lights had come back on. She was pretty sure no one had seen her.

She should have given it to the police. She should have told her brothers. But for some reason, with the journal gone, she felt as though this letter was hers. Hers and nobody else’s. Not that she knew why she felt that way, or had any inkling of what was inside it.

She was looking at the back, with its sealed but crumbling flap. She turned it over and her heart gave a little leap. There was her name, written in the distinctive and utterly beautiful, yet almost impossible to decipher, lovely handwriting of her grandmother, Lilibelle Guillame. For Cara Lynn.

Most likely it was a sweet and rambling message about the sentimental meaning of the tiara and her journal. No matter what it was, she wanted to keep it secret at least until she had time to read it thoroughly. Right now, there was no time to look at it without the chance of Jack coming in.

So she went into the pantry and pulled on a loose baseboard underneath the bottom shelf. She tucked the envelope into the hollow space behind it, where she kept two thousand dollars in small bills, her passport and the beautiful emerald necklace her mother had given her when she graduated from college. The necklace had belonged to Betty’s mother, who had been a diplomat’s wife and traveled all over Europe with her husband. Just as she was replacing the baseboard, she heard Jack’s bare feet coming down the hall.

Quickly, she got the baseboard into place, grabbed three bottles of water, then stepped out of the pantry into the kitchen.

Jack was opening the refrigerator, his bare toes sticking out from his dress pants. He’d removed his jacket and tie and unbuttoned his shirt. It hung open, revealing a hint of his excellent abs.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Putting some more water in the fridge,” she said, wishing she’d grabbed something else. She’d restocked the water just that morning.

“Sparkling water? What for?” he asked, gesturing toward the top shelf of the fridge. “There are—” he stopped. “There were three regular and three sparkling waters in here this morning. Now there’s only two sparkling, counting this one.” He held up the one he’d just picked up. “I thought you were gone all day.”

“I was,” she said, putting the three bottles on the shelf. “I was in a hurry so I didn’t stop to get one. You must have drunk another one.”

“Nope.” He closed the door. “That’s odd.”

Cara Lynn thought about that morning. She’d rushed out so quickly she hadn’t grabbed her usual bottle of water. “Well, if you didn’t drink it and I didn’t drink it—”

“What? You think someone came in here and drank our water?” he asked, his mouth quirked slightly. “Who’s got keys?”

“Nobody, except the woman who cleans, and she had foot surgery three weeks ago.”

Jack twisted the top off the water and took a long drink. “Maybe she came by.”

“If she did, it was just for the water, because she certainly didn’t clean,” Cara Lynn said wryly.

“How can you tell?” Jack retorted.

She swatted at him and smiled. “Hilarious,” she said, “considering I picked up four empty bottles just like this from your side of the bed this morning. I’ve got a long day tomorrow and I will take some water with me.”

He didn’t comment, just headed back to the bedroom. She added two more bottles to the refrigerator, then followed him, going into their bathroom to undress. She shrugged out of Jack’s jacket, then dropped the single intact strap off her shoulder and let the dress fall to the floor, leaving her completely naked. She looked down at herself, blushing. She’d forgotten her little flirtation with her husband from before the party. He probably had, too.

Quickly, she reached for her blue silk nightgown and slipped it over her head. They were married, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d only known Jack for two months. She hadn’t quite gotten over her shyness yet.

“So, what did you think?” she asked Jack, peering around the bathroom door. He was in profile to her, unzipping his pants. His shirt was already off and the sight of his lean, tanned body made heat curl deep inside her, as it did every time she looked at him. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. It was still hard for her to believe that they’d fallen in love at first sight. Actually, to be truthful, she wasn’t surprised that she’d fallen for him. What amazed her was that he’d fallen in love with her so fast.

She wondered, as she had many times, had he felt the same startling ache in the middle of his chest that she had when they’d seen each other across the gallery floor where she was exhibiting her fiber-art pieces? Had he immediately felt desire like a tuning fork shimmering and humming inside him? Did he remember each and every second of that first glance, as she had? She would never forget how he’d met her gaze, his mouth curved in a secret smile she hadn’t seen since, then walked straight over to her and asked her to skip the show and go with him to get something to eat.

Even though she’d been a headliner at the gallery that night, she’d gone with him. Four weeks later, they were married.

“Jack?” she said again.

“Hmm?” He glanced at her sidelong, his dark brows shadowing his eyes. “What did I think about what?

“About all the Delanceys?”

“Oh. They’re pretty intense, especially about the baby of the family. Even Paul Guillame got a dig in to me. He told me that your brothers and cousins had pledged death times eight to anyone who dared to harm you.”

“Oh, you met Paul. Did he really say that? I can’t believe it.”

“Why?”

She shrugged, thinking about her distant cousin on her mother’s side. “He doesn’t seem that deep or that interested in anyone but himself.”

“Whoa. Ouch. Catty much?”

She felt her cheeks turn pink. “That wasn’t very nice, was it?”

Jack shook his head. “Nope. He might be shallow, but he’s right about your brothers—and cousins. I bent down to check on you and three big guys were all over me like it was their job to take care of you, not mine.”

Cara Lynn felt a warm glow start in her midsection. “You think it’s your job to take care of me?”

He looked up, his brows knitted, as if he hadn’t even thought about what he’d said. With a slight tilt of his head, he said, “I guess.”