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He shrugged. “I have trouble sticking to plans. I wanted to see his reaction.” He recalled hers—the tears that had sprung to her eyes. Would she miss working with him? Miss him?

“Rachel…”

“Hmmmm?”

As she met his eyes, he watched that total concentration shift to him. If he told her the truth now—that he’d known all along she was Natalie Gibbs—he might be able to convince her to go.

“What is it?” she asked.

As he played with a strand of her hair, he knew that he wasn’t going to tell her—for the same reason that he hadn’t pushed the issue in Carlo’s office. In spite of the danger, in spite of everything, he wanted her with him for as long as he could have her.

“I want you,” he said.

The tiny line appeared on her forehead again. “We should nail down details for tonight.”

“Okay.” He hung up his towel and turned to her. It was then that he noticed the line of dried blood on the top of her foot. “You didn’t tell me that you were hurt.”

She glanced down. “I’m not. It’s just a scratch.”

Chance plugged the sink and turned the faucets on. “That defense strategy didn’t work for me.” He paid no heed to her grumbled comments as he drew her feet into the water.

“Ouch.”

“I thought it was only men who were babies.” Ignoring her little huff of breath, he lifted the injured foot out of the water, placed the sole in the palm of his hand and began to massage soap gently over the scratch. It
was
merely a scratch, he discovered, but there was more than one.

“I can do that,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed amiably as he slipped a soapy finger in and out between her toes. “But why don’t you tell me what you believe would be a good plan for tonight?”

“I think we ought to…”

“Yes?” He ran a hand up her calf to the back of her knee.

“Since there are two safes…we should…”

Watching her, he moved his fingers up the inside of her thigh. “We’re not sure there are two safes.”

“There are. I’m sure…you’re distracting me.”

“Really?” He traced his fingers back down her calf and rinsed her foot. “You’re the most focused person I know.”

“Two safes…two people…the most…efficient way to handle it would be…”

Her last words had come out in a rush, Chance noted as he lifted her foot and pressed his mouth to the scratch. He heard the quick catch of her breath. And when he turned, he saw the mix of desire and confusion in her eyes. It struck him then that he’d never once taken the time to seduce her. Oh, he’d made love to her, but it had always been fast and hot.

Wonderful in its own way, but… He watched her eyes darken as he ran his tongue along the scratch, then took one quick nip at the arch of her foot.

“Chance, I…”

“You were saying that the most efficient way to handle it would be to…?” Lowering her foot, he leaned in and brushed his mouth over hers.

“I can’t think when you…do that.”

“How about this?” He traced her lips with his tongue. “You taste like cherry lollipop.”

Then he shifted his attention to her other foot. This time he ran his hand up to the inside of her thigh and let it linger there. “You were saying…?”

“You’re making it…hard to think.”

He was going to make it impossible. But he didn’t say that. Instead, he traced little patterns on the inside of her thigh and savored the quick catch of her breath.

“Why are we always in such a hurry?” he asked.

Her lips were parted, moist and stained cherry-red. He leaned in for another sample. Heat shimmered. The moment it threatened to flare, he drew back.

“No.” The plea came out on a sigh.

The sight of her, aroused and at his mercy, excited him in a way that hadn’t happened before. Watching only her eyes, he skimmed his fingers higher up the inside of her thigh until he could touch the lace of her panties. This time he intended to go slowly. “Tell me more about your plan.”

Natalie sucked in a breath and wished that she could gather her thoughts just as quickly.

There was some important point that she had to make. But she couldn’t quite grasp hold of it.

“Or you could just let me touch you,” Chance said.

She shuddered as his fingers traced the lace on the edge of her panties. She waited, shuddering again in anticipation of when they would slip beneath the thin silk and enter her. But they didn’t. They merely traced the same path over and over.

Sensations moved through her. And they were so new—nothing like the flash and fire he’d always ignited in her before. This was…softer…sweeter, and her blood felt as if it had turned thick as honey.

“I love the feel of your skin.” His hand moved down the inside of her thigh to her knee and then slowly back again. He repeated the process on her other thigh.

She could have sworn that she was floating. Ridiculous. She was still sitting on the counter. She could feel the hard press of it against her bottom and the heels of her hands.

But what Chance was doing to her with just his hands made her feel as if he’d magically levitated her several inches above the counter.

That was ridiculous. And she should put a stop to it. She opened her mouth, intending to do just that when he drew her feet out of the sink and shifted her so that her back was propped against the mirror and he was standing between her legs.

He pulled her shorts off and dropped them on the floor in one smooth move.

“Open your eyes.”

She hadn’t even been aware that she’d closed them, but she did as he asked. She would have done anything he asked.

“I want to touch you here.” He ran one finger down the silk of her panties until it rested against the center of her heat.

She shuddered as a wave of pleasure pierced her, weakening her. Helpless to do anything else, she watched him, waiting, wanting.

For a moment, he didn’t move at all. And she couldn’t. Everything inside of her was melting.

“Please…”

His finger moved then, but only to trace the same erotic patterns he’d made earlier on her thigh.

“No…please.” Gathering all of her strength, she arched toward him, craving more.

He drew his hand away, gripped her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the counter.

Then leaning down, he began to trace the same pattern on the silk of her panty with his tongue.

Pleasure built to a knife-edged pain inside of her as she strained toward him. But she couldn’t get close enough, and he kept the pressure so gentle. Too gentle. The torture was so exquisite, she thought she might die of it.

“I can’t… Please.”

He drew her panties off then and followed their path down her legs with his mouth. Then he began the journey back up. If she’d thought she might die before, Natalie was quite sure she would now as sensation after sensation battered through her. There was the scrape of his teeth at her ankle, the slick pressure of his tongue on her calf, and the string of kisses that drew closer and closer, only to stop before they reached their goal.

And then his mouth was just where she wanted it to be, and the pressure was just what she’d been craving. She called out his name as the orgasm erupted. His arms were around her as the pleasure careened through her with a force that built and built and built to a high, airless peak. As she shot over it, all she knew was Chance.

And then he was inside of her, moving slowly in and out, in and out. She couldn’t feel anymore. She was sure of it, but then the heat started to build again. And still he went slowly, too slowly. Drawing on all of her strength, she wrapped herself around him and began to move. She knew the moment the pleasure built to the flash point for him, and she went with him into the fire.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK of the costume?”

Natalie stared at herself in the mirror and tried to think of an appropriate Calli response.

Of course, Chance had sprung the costume on her out of the blue.

And they still didn’t have a decent plan. Once she’d managed to gather up her brain cells after they’d made love, she’d suggested that they split up and each break into one of the safes. He’d rejected it, but what he’d replaced it with was sketchy at best. The only thing she was sure of was that they were going to break into the gallery safe first. In her mind, the sketchy details meant that he intended to improvise.

“Great, aren’t they?”

Natalie dragged her focus back to the costumes. The fact that they were in the bedroom and being listened to kept her from saying what she really thought about them. She shifted her gaze to Chance’s reflection in the mirror. He was Stan Laurel. Tall and lean, he looked the part right up to the dopey expression on his face. Very cute.

She, on the other hand, was a fat, pudgy and very disgruntled Oliver Hardy. Spikey little black bangs peeked out from the bowler hat she was wearing, and she had a mustache and chipmunk cheeks. Chance had made her stuff cotton rolls in them.

Finally, she let her gaze drift down to the stomach that felt as big as Kansas. The added padding around her middle held her tools and a second costume just in case they had to improvise at some point in the evening.

Just in case they had to improvise? Yeah, right. But she felt better knowing that at least Chance had some sort of a backup plan. Still, the added girth around her middle was going to slow her down.

“You really look like Oliver Hardy,” Chance said, grinning at her.

She did. And Calli should have some reaction to that. Someone was listening, but her mind had gone suddenly blank. How would Calli feel about wearing this costume?

For some reason she’d been finding it harder to keep in character since they’d made love in the bathroom. She was pretty sure that the clutch of nerves in her stomach had more to do with the way that Chance had made her feel than the job they had to do tonight.

“I was sure you’d like it,” Chance said.

Stalling, she fisted her hands on her hips and focused on her image in the mirror. But she didn’t want to be Calli right now. And she didn’t want to be Rachel Cade either. What she really wanted was to drag Chance back in the bathroom and ask him what he’d meant by making her feel the way he had.

He’d made her feel loved. The word had fear and panic slithering up her spine, but it was better to get it out and face it than to let it gnaw away at her.

He’d made her feel something that wasn’t real, that she couldn’t have. Better to get that harsh truth out and face it, too. Maybe then, she could get her mind back on the job they had to do.

“You love watching my collection of Oliver and Hardy films…” The expression on Chance’s face was puzzled. He’d probably looked forward to throwing her this curve ball, Natalie thought.

Tilting her head to one side, she met his eyes and said, “Loving the films doesn’t mean I want to dress up like them. And I don’t see why I have to be the fat guy.”

Chance grinned Stan Laurel’s silly grin and flipped his tie at her. “Because I’m taller.”

She rolled her eyes and ad-libbed. “I never should have let you pick out the costumes.”

“You told me to pick a couple.”

“I was thinking of a couple couple. Romeo and Juliet, Antony and Cleopatra…” Switching her gaze to her own image in the mirror, she frowned. “I think I ought to get a reward for wearing this.”

He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. “By the end of the evening, you’ll have the Ferrante diamond. You can bank on it.”

She met his eyes then. “I will.” And that was all she was going to think about for the rest of the evening—getting her hands on that diamond.

“Ready?” Chance asked.

The ringing of his cell phone prevented her from replying.

“Yes, Harold,” Chance said.

It was Tracker checking in again. He would have facts and figures to give Steven on the latest merger that Bradford Enterprises was engaged in. Sandwiched in would be anything important that Tracker wanted Chance to know.

While she waited, Natalie checked herself one more time in the mirror and practiced walking back and forth.

“There’s been a little shooting incident,” Chance said. “Nothing serious, but you can cancel the fishing trip and expect me back in New York tomorrow morning.”

Nicely done, Natalie thought. Now, Tracker would know that they had to leave the island tonight. Once Chance pocketed his phone, he turned toward her and handed her one of the feathery masks that Carlo had provided. “Ready?”

She felt her heart flip and tried to ignore it. This was a man who would never be hers, but they were about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime. This was why she’d signed on.

Later, she’d test her ability to deal with a wounded heart. Right now, she was going to trust in her ability to pull off this job.

“Ready,” she said and waddled toward him.

14

OVER THE TOP.
That was the phrase that popped into Natalie’s mind the minute she walked into the main salon. Carlo had brought the room to life as surely as if he’d been the prince who’d awakened Sleeping Beauty. Crystal chandeliers glimmered overhead, and the wall of French doors stood open to the night. Across the room, tables draped in white linen cloths held silver buckets of champagne and trays of food. And there were flowers everywhere, their scents blending with candle wax and expensive perfume. A band played in the far corner of the dance floor, and she noted that the room was already more than half-filled with people.

Carlo Brancotti’s masquerade ball was
the
party to be invited to in South Florida. She’d almost forgotten that, and as Natalie let her gaze sweep the room, she wondered how many politicians and other assorted celebrities hid behind the glittering, feathery masks that Carlo had provided. It was a night to pretend, to do things you might not if you were yourself.