One Sizzling Night Read online

  She might not have an original Modigliani at her place, but she had a number of exquisite reproductions, which could fool even a regular museum visitor. Her bed was almost as nice as the one here, though not as big. But queen-size was fine for her.

  All in all, she was very lucky, if one didn’t count the fact that her estranged father could be caught and sent to prison unless she could prove someone else had stolen the ten-million-dollar painting he was suspected of taking. Or someone could out him as the Houdini Burglar, which would be so much worse.

  She exhaled. Yeah, if one didn’t count that.

  Her thoughts shot to the blue box of mac and cheese she’d spotted in the pantry. If she’d had time before making the call to Neil, she would’ve been tempted to make herself a big bowl of comfort. Just to take the edge off her nervous energy.

  Kensey checked her watch as she put her iPod and speakers on the mantel above the fireplace. Even though she’d had plenty to do since returning to the apartment, her mind hadn’t truly left the exhibition hall.

  It wasn’t as if she’d expected Holstrom to hang out in his giant booth all day. Why would he? The exhibit was the equivalent of the kids’ table for someone like him. But she’d lingered nearby, on the off chance she’d see him, or at least overhear something useful. Which, ultimately, she had. But not before she’d learned more than she ever cared to know about the large array of guns being hawked. Weapons were not of much interest to an art curator. Maybe a budding burglar...

  She closed her eyes as doubt hit like a sudden storm.

  She knew art. But she’d never actually planned on turning into Lara Croft, Missing Masterpiece Hunter. Okay maybe it sounded exciting. But still, she wasn’t a burglar. Relieved that Holstrom was busy tonight at some big dinner so that she didn’t have to find a way to bump into him, she turned back to her iPod and checked her selected music, for after her call.

  Neil’s meeting should be over by now, although if he ran late, that would be fine. As long as they were done in an hour, so she’d have time for yoga and a shower before Logan arrived.

  After pouring herself a glass of water, she sat on the ultrasoft leather couch. “Call Neil Patterson.” The monitor popped up on the wall. There was no connection yet, but he’d see she was waiting.

  Closing her eyes, she did some deep breathing to get herself settled. The whole day she’d felt as if a giant clock was ticking, the window for her to actually pull her father’s ass out of the fire dwindling by the second. Obsessively checking online for news of his possible capture hadn’t helped. It was a ridiculous waste of time since she knew Neil would keep her informed.

  Holstrom hadn’t called her. Not yet. Not even to make plans for another night when he wasn’t booked. It made sense. He was the type of man who needed to make it perfectly clear that things ran on his schedule, or they didn’t run at all.

  “You look comfortable.”

  She opened her eyes, startled at her boss’s voice. “It’s easy to look comfortable in this apartment. My God. You have to stay here. It’s amazing.”

  “I’m aware.”

  She smiled at herself. “Of course you are.”

  “But I imagine being there for the experience is very different from looking at schematics and plans.” His gaze moved from her to her surroundings. “That isn’t your room. Are you sure we shouldn’t talk somewhere more private?”

  “Logan won’t be back until after 6:30. I made sure,” she said, feeling anxious. But if he had bad news, Neil would have said so already. “I was able to get into the party last night. A lot of interesting people were there. I can honestly say if that room had been blown up, maps would have to be rewritten. Not to mention the financial chaos that would ensue across the globe.”

  “So a typical Holstrom party, then.”

  She smiled. “I did get him to take my number. He asked if I’d be amenable to drinks or dinner and I made sure he understood I was very open to seeing him again.”

  “He’ll call. He’s probably been checking out your background.”

  “Well, he sure won’t find anything we don’t want him to find. Your friend Sam is amazingly gifted at manipulating a person’s digital presence. I almost believed some of the tweaks she made to my background.”

  “Yes, she does great work.”

  Kensey took another quick sip of water to soothe her dry mouth. It was nerves, of course, but she wished it would stop. When she put the glass down, she said, “Is there anything new?”

  Neil leaned back in his leather chair. He was still in Tarrytown. It was hard to believe all that had happened in the past thirty hours.

  “We haven’t learned much,” he said. “We know that Detective Brown hasn’t found your father. In fact, I don’t think he knows where to start.”

  “We?”

  “I have a man on this. Your father didn’t leave any trail. They may not find him. Ever.”

  Oddly, she didn’t feel as relieved as she should. The little girl in her wanted to see him. Not in handcuffs, certainly, but if he disappeared forever... She shook her head at herself, then remembered Neil could see her.

  Straightening, she said, “In the little digging I was able to do, I found out that Seymour has sold off some of his art collection. No major pieces, but enough to make me think he might be in some financial trouble.”

  Neil nodded. “He’s dug himself a deep pit. He might even be in bed with some money lenders—the kind who don’t threaten with lawsuits. Whatever he’s done, he’s nervous. My friend thinks Seymour will be the one to crack, and I’m inclined to agree. If he doesn’t have a full payout from Lloyd’s of London, he could lose his estate. And then there’s Brown. If he’s involved, he might be desperate enough to do something stupid. Before it was about ego. The longer this plays out, the more he has at stake than just losing his pension.”

  “You’ve been busy.” Kensey shook her head. “I’m guessing you hired your ‘friend’ the minute I walked out of your office?”

  “Phil’s good at what he does.”

  “I can’t tell you how grateful I am. I know your schedule better than you do, and you don’t have time for this.”

  “I’m not actually the one doing the legwork, Kensey.” He leaned forward, put his arms on his desk and looked right into the eye of his computer lens. “We’re going to throw everything we’ve got at this problem. Holstrom might not have the Degas. And to be honest, finding the connection between Seymour and Brown and proving they conspired is the best way to help your father.”

  “Thank you,” she managed. She wasn’t good at this part. Saying things that mattered. Neil was more like a father to her than her own. He was an unconditional friend and mentor, and every time she saw that in action, she was floored.

  “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same if the roles were reversed.”

  She nodded, doing her best not to put up the controlled mask she wore whenever she was uncomfortable. “I’ll keep moving forward out here. If Holstrom doesn’t call by tomorrow, I’ll give him another reminder.”

  “Let’s hope we have a break on this end and you can leave Boston without ever seeing the bastard again.”

  What Kensey wouldn’t give for that outcome. “One more thing. I’m curious. Do you know much about Logan McCabe? Other than he’s an old friend of Sam’s and that he’s ex-military. There’s shockingly little about him that comes up in a traditional search.”

  “No, I don’t. Sam has never said, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t just in special operations. I think he was in black ops. That means he’s smart as hell, cagey and I wouldn’t want to mess with him.”

  “Black ops? That’s CIA stuff, right?”

  “I think so, yes. But again, Sam hasn’t said. Either she doesn’t know, or she’s not allowed to say.”

  Kensey thought about Logan
and his Pliny the Elder beer. How he’d looked at her when he’d seen her in her warrior dress. His easy smile. He was fit as hell, but lots of men were. But black ops, though? That put him in a very special league.

  She smiled. “Okay. So, I don’t need to worry about him.”

  “I never said that.”

  Her cheery facade vanished. “Well, that’s helpful. Should I be worried?”

  “No. Just careful.” Neil frowned. “Is he giving you trouble?”

  “No. It’s just unsettling sharing the place with a stranger.”

  “I know,” he said, using his professor voice. “Remember, you’re not alone in this. So don’t push Holstrom too far. He’s a tricky prick.” Neil leaned back. “Tell you the truth, I feel better knowing you have someone like McCabe around.”

  Kensey wasn’t sure she agreed or wanted to think about what that meant regarding the risk she was taking, so she just nodded.

  “Unless something breaks tonight, I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

  Long after they’d disconnected, she sat staring at the blank gray wall.

  5

  UNSURPRISINGLY EXHAUSTED, LOGAN put his key in the door, looking forward to a quick shower then dinner with Kensey.

  He didn’t give a damn about what was on the menu. He’d eaten more army rations than he cared to think about. All he wanted was to talk to Kensey. Get to know her better. Then have a lot of sex.

  Music met him with a bang. Hard rock, served very loud. Was she nuts?

  He headed straight into the living room.

  Shit.

  There she was. Wearing really tiny black yoga shorts. And a white tank top, which looked a great deal like the undershirts in his dresser drawer. They looked much better on her.

  She was on a yoga mat, doing a handstand with her legs curled round over her head so that her feet touched her forehead.

  The scorpion was a bitch of a pose. Especially for men. He knew. He’d used yoga a lot during his deployments and kept up with it at home. Keeping limber was one of the first truly valuable lessons he’d learned in self-defense. But he’d never listened to AC/DC while trying to find his spiritual center.

  Of course, he was mesmerized. By her perfect form, her perfect body. She couldn’t see him from this angle, and he didn’t move, afraid to startle her lest she hurt herself. But mostly, he was just in awe. No training at all, she’d said. What a load. She was in better shape than some Navy SEALs he knew.

  As he watched, she raised her legs into a regular handstand and did a few elbow dips. Then, boom, the music changed to typical yoga crap. A few seconds later, she shifted so that she was balancing the weight of her body entirely on one hand. A single-handed handstand. Every part of her body was stunning, her balance superb and she could call him McBabe every other minute, it wouldn’t stop him from getting hard.

  “Hello?” she said, still on just the one hand and unable to look his way.

  “Just me. Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  “Wait.”

  He knew she couldn’t see him, yet she had sensed someone was standing there and had stayed completely cool. Just like yesterday when she’d been wearing nothing but a towel. Interesting. “Yeah?”

  “Are you always early? I mean, is it a thing? A little OCD maybe?”

  “No. In fact, I only started doing it to annoy you.”

  “Ah,” she said, still on the one damn hand. The way her muscles shifted to keep her balance was like an intricate ballet. “Thought so.”

  “Change of subject, while you’re in a conversational mood. Think you could teach me that?”

  “Sure. Give me about ten years, and voilà—you’ll be a yoga master.”

  “Ten years. Ha. I get it. That’s a joke.” Okay, smartass. Game on. “No seriously. How about that thing you were doing a minute ago?”

  “The scorpion?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe. Can you do a handstand?”

  “I’m ex-military. I can do fifty before breakfast.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s called cheerleading, but, hey, to each his own.”

  “Again. Funny. Anyway, I’ll wait until you’re done. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself and blame me.”

  She transitioned into a double-handed handstand, then lowered herself into a sitting position in one of the most graceful moves he’d ever seen. “Take off your shoes,” she said.

  He didn’t think twice about it, just took ’em off where he stood.

  “Do you want to change first?”

  “Damn. I forgot to pack my yoga clothes.”

  “Okay.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. Oh, yeah...she was gonna put him through the wringer. “Let me see your handstand.”

  Something occurred to him that he should’ve considered before he’d opened his mouth. He was a little hard and that was going to make things difficult. “You know what? I interrupted your routine, which was really thoughtless, so I’ll just—”

  “Why McBabe, you surprise me.”

  Logan sighed. At least his cock was calming down. “You’re going to use that all the time, aren’t you?”

  “Probably. Just to annoy you.” She got to her feet. Not like regular humans did. Like goddesses rose from those giant lily pads. “I can go get a towel and wipe down my mat if you’re afraid of girl cooties.”

  “I think I can handle it,” he said and met the challenge in her eyes with one of his own.

  Her gaze held for a moment, and then she was all business. “Okay, come on over.”

  He walked to the middle of the living room, right in front of the fireplace. The sound of some hippie playing the flute filled the space, but the walls weren’t in tune. They had been when AC/DC had nearly broken his eardrums. Now they’d turned to a brick red and pulsed like a heartbeat.

  “Put one foot in front of the other,” she said. “Lift your back leg up and raise your arms straight out in front of you so your body forms a T.”

  He obeyed and made no further comment. But she was close. Next to him, walking around him, and he could smell her. Her scent was so utterly feminine it made him a little shaky.

  “Steady,” she said, her shoulder briefly brushing his arm. “Now put your leg down and press your palms on the ground with arms straight. Gently rock forward and back. Inhale forward, exhale back until you feel steady enough to lift one leg off the ground. There you go.”

  She touched his arm again. Her palm was soft and warm against his skin, and the feel of it momentarily threw him off.

  He breathed in, exhaled slowly, then not only got one leg up, but two. And he started arching them backward.

  She moved her hand to his thigh. To help guide him. But it was unexpected.

  He fell. Hard.

  “Logan.” She was on her knees in two seconds. “Are you okay? Oh, God.” She touched his chest, quickly drew back her hand. “Where does it hurt?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Nothing broken?” She probed his arm with featherlight fingertips, her green eyes dark with concern.

  He knew he should reassure her that he was okay but he didn’t want her to stop touching him. Or to move away. He could feel her breath on his jaw, her body heat warming his skin. All he wanted to do was kiss her. “Logan?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Promise?” Her lips parted as they almost met his. They shared a breath, back and forth.

  He had a second to wish he’d shaved before he kissed her, but in that moment he saw uncertainty flicker in her eyes. So he did a quick kick up. From horizontal to vertical in the fastest way he knew how.

  Kensey was still on the floor, but he could see her stunned expression.
Which shifted to pissed off. Whether it was because he’d stopped the kiss or she thought that he’d played her, he couldn’t tell.

  He was pretty sure he’d find out.

  * * *

  “COME ON,” LOGAN SAID, extending a hand to her, as if she needed help to stand. “You know I’m ex-military.”

  After batting him away, she got to her feet. “Yeah, because everyone in the military is completely fit and knows how to do kick ups.”

  He shrugged. “You got me there.”

  “I think you’re the one who got me,” she muttered, and thought about stepping back. They were standing awfully close. But the hell with that. She wouldn’t be the one to chicken out. He’d been about to kiss her. She hadn’t gotten that part wrong. So what happened?

  “I’m sorry,” he said, the laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes contradicting his words. “I think my ego needed a boost after seeing what you can do. Talk about a yoga master.”

  “I’m not that special. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

  He shook his head as he leaned in her direction. “I’ve been cooking for a long time. Doesn’t make me a chef. You had to work damn hard to do that.”

  “When I’m not going to fancy conferences, I work with incredibly expensive art. I need to be ready for anything.”

  “Anything?”

  Still smarting from his slick move, she said, “So, you learned that in the military, huh? Was that special ops?” She hadn’t thrown him off-balance as she’d hoped. “Or was it black ops?”

  Bingo.

  He didn’t even blink. In fact, his expression hardly changed. Yet he managed to make her wish with all her heart she could take back the stupid taunt. His guard had gone up as swiftly as the words had fallen from her lips. She’d never seen anything like it. The change in him had a little to do with his eyes, and some to do with his posture, but it was much more than that.