The Sapphire Affair (A Jewel Novel Book 1) (12 page)

She shivered, and her lips parted, but she said nothing. Maybe she was wondering why the hell he was saying these things when they’d agreed to cool it. Hell, he was wondering, too. “You deserve someone who craves the taste of your lips. The feel of your body. Most of all, a woman like you deserves a man who understands the three-to-one ratio.”

She scrunched her brows together. “What’s that?”

He brushed her blonde strands away from her ear, cupped a hand over it, and whispered, “I would make sure you come three times before I even do once.”

She gasped, and her lips fell open.

He wrenched back. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at two. I’d better go before someone sees how much I want you right now.”

Because he wasn’t supposed to. He wasn’t supposed to want her this badly.

He made his way to the exit. The same guy from last night was manning it. Jake cleared his throat. “I believe there’s a gentleman in there who might be slipping something into women’s drinks,” he said, then described the blond guy.

Cal Winters nodded a thanks. “I’ll take care of it right away.”

Then Jake returned to his hotel room and pictured working on that three-to-one ratio.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Shorts and T-shirt, skirt and tank top, or sundress? What on earth do you wear to a . . . stakeout?

Was this even a stakeout?

Steph shook her head, answering her own question.

No. It was more of a mission. An intel-gathering mission, to be precise. And her role was playing the getaway driver as well as the diamond babysitter.

Still, she couldn’t decide what to wear. Her bed was a mess, littered with clothes and bikinis, because one should always have a bikini handy in a beach town. She grabbed the pink one with polka dots, tugged it on, pulled on a sundress, and slid into flip-flops. There. Seemed a suitable wardrobe for this next phase of the plan.

She was grabbing her purse when someone rapped on the door.

She froze.

She’d hoped to be in the lobby at two and meet him there. Because Jake in her room? That would test all her sweet-devouring, three-to-one, do-bad-things-to-me resolve.

You totally did not fantasize about him last night. You were not thinking of him whatsoever and the way his fingers danced across the outline of your panties on the dance floor.

Another knock.

She smoothed a hand over her dress. She was steel. She could so do this.

She opened the door, and her willpower was ready to wave the white flag. Even in the cheesy palm-tree button-down shirt and touristy hat with the slogan I
T
’
S
B
ETTER IN THE
C
AYMANS
, the man was just too good-looking to be real. Starting with those arms. So firm and strong, they were the image of temptation. She suspected they’d feel good to touch as he moved over her.

There it went—another roller-coaster dive of butterflies inside her.

And that chest. Broad and sturdy. She pictured her hands spread across his pecs.

Then, those eyes. Those see-into-my-soul green eyes that crinkled at the corners.

But most of all, her gaze lingered on his lips. She was already acquainted with their talents. She could only imagine what else they could do.

“Let me just grab the stone,” she said, and started to close the door and leave him in the hallway before she combusted from staring at him.

He stuck his foot in the door. “I’ll join you.”

She waved him off. “That’s OK. I’ll be super fast.”

He flashed her a dirty grin. “I want to prove I can keep my hands to myself. Just like I did last night.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I seem to recall your hands were on me. But by all means, show me your willpower,” she said, opening the door, because now he was testing her resolve and she wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

“I thought you might enjoy seeing that feat of strength from me,” he said with a wink, reminding her of why she’d liked him so damn much the first night. The man was charming.

And . . . the man also thought her stepfather was a criminal.

“Nice costume,” she said, reminding herself to keep the conversation light between them. To avoid the dicier topics of guilt or innocence, as well as the more dangerous matters of lust.

He gestured to his getup. “I know you’re a big fan of the way I look in Hawaiian shirts.”

“You are definitely one hundred percent pure tourist,” she said, and shut the door behind her, then pointed to the small room. Best to be completely casual and friendly with Jake, nothing more. “It’s not the fanciest hotel on the island, but it’s home sweet home for now,” she joked, as if a hotel room would reveal details of who she was. But it did, in a way. The beige tile floor was littered with her tour supplies—snorkels she’d picked up earlier in the day and mesh bags full of underwater masks, as well as climbing gear. The nightstand boasted a paperback she’d been reading—a true-life adventure of a man who’d hiked across China, as well as her e-reader for when she needed something saucier.

Meanwhile, her assortment of bikinis and clothes was strewn across her bed.

“You could start a bathing suit shop,” he remarked.

“I’m considering buying stock in bikinis.”

“It’s like an explosion. Or maybe they multiplied.”

“I couldn’t decide what to—” Then she stopped and clasped her hand over her mouth. His green gaze shifted from the bed to her.

“What to wear this afternoon?” he supplied, but his tone wasn’t jokey or sarcastic. It was soft and vulnerable. The look in his eyes was, too. As if he wanted her to say yes. The way he gazed at her made her want to say yes to so much more. To whatever he’d ask.

Oh Lord, this was so much tougher than she’d expected.

She nodded and breathed a quiet, “Yes.”

He stepped closer. Raised his hand. Traced an invisible line in the air, inches from her, traveling from her shoulder, along her breasts, down her belly, to her hip. She swallowed and breathed out hard as hot shivers followed his hand. He wasn’t even touching her, but the sensations, the mere possibilities, ignited her.

This was precisely why she didn’t want him in her room.

This was precisely why she wanted him in her room.

She was torn, her body asking for one thing, her mind telling her to just focus on the job because she and Jake were at odds.

“The outfit you chose is perfect,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, and so damn sexy that it nearly sapped all that remaining resistance. Especially when his fingertips brushed against her waist.

Somehow, she uttered a thanks, then made her way to the safe. She began to press the buttons on the lock. In an instant he was behind her, his hand on her hand, his chest against her back. Her mind returned to the flash of images that had played before her closed lids last night in her room as she satisfied that sweet ache he’d left her with on the dance floor. That same damn ache camped out again, beating a pulse in her belly, asking her to move closer to him. There. Right there. So she was aligned with the length of his strong, sturdy body.

He wrapped his fingers over hers.

“What are you doing?” She wasn’t sure if the question was about the safe or his intentions. Though his hard body—hard everywhere she wanted him to be—made it clear his intentions lived in the same vicinity as hers.

He drew a breath, then brushed his lips on her shoulder. She was ready to turn around, grab him, pull him to her bed, and let him strip her to nothing and take her. It had been a long time. So damn long that her body was ready to defect from her brain, which was trying to tell her she didn’t trust men as far as she could throw them and this man was nothing but red flags.

He whispered a combination of numbers. Five of them, to be precise.

The hair on her neck stood on end, and she froze.

She unfroze as he pushed those numbers on her safe, and the door popped open. She swiveled around and pressed her hands on his chest. She stared at him like he’d just crash-landed in her room on a rocket ship. “How did you do that?”

He shrugged and shot her a smile that could melt panties. “Told you I could open safes. I just wanted to show you.” He brushed a strand of hair off her shoulder. “So you know I’m a good partner.”

He bent his head closer to her neck once more and dusted another soft, barely there, almost chaste kiss on her. She pressed her hand to his chest, undeterred. “But
how
did you do that?” she asked again, refusing to focus on that kiss.

“Ariel,” he said casually. “Two, seven, four, three, five.”

Her jaw dropped, then she swatted him. “Not. Fair. You tricked me again.”

He laughed deeply, the booming sound carrying across the room. She nudged him away from the safe and grabbed the box with the diamond her stepfather had given her. A dose of embarrassment surged through her.

“C’mon, Steph,” he said, reaching for her.

She shrugged him off. “C’mon what?”

“I was just trying to show you what I could do.”

“Yeah, and you sure did. You made me look stupid for picking that as my combination.”

“I’m sure it’s not your ATM pin, though,” he said matter-of-factly, his sunshine eyes lighting up.

“No. It’s not,” she said, patting herself mentally on the back for choosing a slightly more complicated string for her bank. “I just can’t believe I picked something you figured out in two seconds.”

“It’s a name you like. It’s your nickname. Don’t feel bad. People usually choose familiar words for their combinations. Understanding habits and human nature is part of my job.”

“But you were kissing me and trying to make me melt in your arms to give it up.”

He laughed once more and shook his head. “Nope. You’re wrong there. You didn’t give it up. And I was just kissing your neck because you smelled so damn good I couldn’t help myself.” He held up his hands in surrender. “Twenty-four hours and I’ve already broken the rules. I promise it won’t happen again, and please do forgive me for not being able to resist you in that moment when you looked so ridiculously hot in front of the safe.”

He doffed an imaginary top hat, like a Victorian-era gentleman apologizing properly.

She huffed, wishing she could stay mad at him. She clutched the box to her chest. “Fine. Apology accepted. Now let’s go before you feel compelled to toss me on the bed and do very bad things to me as you practice ratios.”

He groaned, a deep, throaty sound that told her she’d regained the upper hand.

Momentarily.

As she drove to the diamond district with him, she gripped the steering wheel of her rental so she wouldn’t be tempted to run a hand along his arm. “OK, let’s review the plan. You’re going to get as many details on my diamond as you possibly can so we can try to figure out where it came from,” she said, her heart pinching with the hope that his intel would somehow make it clear that her rock was a simple gift from Eli.

“Yep. And what it’s worth, of course. To see if it could even add up. See, Andrew and I were originally thinking Eli might have moved the stolen money in art, like we talked about,” Jake said, and she winced at the word
stolen
. “But moving that much in art is conspicuous. It’s much easier to get on a plane with a handful of diamonds than with big wads of cash or hundreds of canvases. Shipping art that expensive, too, would be noticed, with the insurance a thief would need to cover it.”

Another wince. Another cringe. She wished he’d stop using those damn words.

“But gems,” Jake said, continuing his theorizing, “Eli can put on a string and wear that around his neck on the flight. He can have his fiancée wear them. Doesn’t matter. Once they’re diamonds, they travel easily on your person.”

“You don’t know he transported them on his neck, Jake,” she said through tight lips, keeping her eyes on the road. “We don’t know that he transported them at all.”

“Right,” he said, as if the word had ten syllables. “Maybe he had a private jet. But even so, you have to go through customs, and let’s say, hypothetically, if
someone
were to transport diamonds, or sapphires, or rubies, they’re movable much easier than a ton of art. That’s why a smart guy like—” he said, then stopped himself. “A smart person would take the stolen money and put it into jewels. Especially if someone can help him with
safe
transport.”

She knew he was referencing that e-mail, that damn incriminating e-mail, and all those other documents, too. She didn’t want to think about those details right now. She shifted to the strategy for today.

“So is there a secret back exit at International Diamonds? You’d better not sneak out the back door with my gem,” she said, zoning in on the task at hand—to find out how valuable these stones were.

“I promise I’m not going to dart through the diamond merchant’s shop to make off with your rock.”

“How do I know?” she asked, since it was, admittedly, risky to hand over the diamond for a few minutes. But it was riskier for her to go into the shop herself.

He rustled around in the passenger seat. At the red light, she glanced over. He was digging into his back pocket. He extracted his wallet and flipped it open, tapping the plastic covering his driver’s license. “Here you go. Take it. My identification. Can’t get anywhere without it. Plus, you’ve got all my credit cards in there, too, so you can have a spending spree if I turn out to be some crazy escape artist taking off with your diamond.”

He set the wallet in the center console, and her lips twitched up in a grin. “That’s a reasonable form of collateral.”

The light changed, and she pressed the gas, weaving through the afternoon traffic. “What happens if someone sees us together? What do I say? Who are you?”

He flashed a lopsided grin. “Well, you’ll be waiting in the car, so no one will. But if someone does, that’s easy. I’m a customer of Ariel’s Island Eco-Adventure Tours, and you hit on me on your dive tour.”

She rolled her eyes. “As if I would do that.”

“You totally hit on me. You couldn’t resist. I was underwater in my swim trunks, and you couldn’t stop staring, so you hit on me,” he said, the cocky bastard, as he dropped his hand onto her bare thigh. She hitched in a breath.

“You wish,” she said, trying to ignore the fact that she liked his hand on her leg.

“It’s true. I speak the full truth,” he said as he tugged the ball cap lower on his head. “You picked me up and you insisted on having me.”

“Just like you insisted on kissing me back in my hotel room,” she said as she flicked on her blinker and turned onto Wayboard Street.

“I’ll try to do a better job resisting you,” he said, but as she locked eyes with him, the look in his said resistance would be tough.

She nearly swerved when a car honked its horn at her.

Better pay attention to the road than his sexy eyes.