Simon Says... Page 17

  “You’d do that?”

  “I’d certainly give it a try.”

  “I’d guess you’d need to travel a lot. Overseas. Keep up with those clients.”

  “I already told you that I’m not in the market for a long-distance relationship, but, from time to time, if one of my longtime clients makes a request, I’d have to at least consider it. You could certainly accompany me, if it was possible.”

  “That would depend on my position at the time. As soon as I move to day management, I’ll probably be living here, more often than not. They even work out deals for managers to do just that.”

  He grinned. “I have a small flat in London, and one in Sydney, but I spend most of my life in hotels. So that wouldn’t be a big adjustment for me.”

  “Just as long as you don’t go cavorting about in other people’s hotels, picking up accomplice maids as you go.”

  He kissed her again, then again. “You’re the only accomplice maid for me.”

  She grinned, then laughed as he nuzzled her neck. “Good. And don’t you forget, it’s not every accomplice maid who can do lousy Russian-Asian-Spanish accents.”

  “I know, right? Can I pick them, or what?” He lifted his head, and stared down into her face, and he looked so…happy. Joyful. It made her heart swell right up until she thought it might burst.

  “Yes,” she said, more sincerely than she’d intended. “And can I say, I’m so very glad you did?”

  “You can,” he said, then began kissing her along her jaw, before taking her mouth and kissing her deeply and quite intently. All teasing was gone, but when he lifted his head, the openness was still there.

  “Remember when I said before, that I decide on a path, a goal, and I work toward it. I haven’t any clue what choices I’ll be willing to make, or what I can and can’t live with. But I suppose that’s true of any new step a person takes, whether it’s personal or professional. I have never let the fear of failure keep me from going for anything I wanted. I guess that’s why I came back to your room. It wasn’t like me to chicken out. I’d have never made it two days in this industry if that was the case.”

  He framed her face with his hands, and kept his gaze on hers. He didn’t interrupt, and he didn’t hurry her. But his steady regard, his willingness to allow her to say whatever it was she had to say, however she had to say it, gave her enormous faith in how they’d progress from this point on.

  She smiled. “So…this is me. Not being a chicken.” She lifted her head enough to kiss him. “How do you feel about being my new goal?”

  “Pretty bloody fantastic.”

  “Hmm,” she said. “Only bloody fantastic? Not extraordinary?” She rolled him to his back and straddled his hips, pinning his hands over his head. “I see I have my work cut out for me.”

  He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “Have I mentioned how much respect I have for your dedicated work ethic?” Then he groaned, long and deep, and with great satisfaction as she went about making certain she’d earned that respect.

  14

  “I’M NOT REALLY CUT OUT for this,” Sophie called through the closed bathroom door. “Literally,” Simon heard her mutter.

  “Your body was made to wear dresses like that. Men will drool, women will wish they could fill it out like you do. Come out so I can see it.”

  “Oh, I fill it out, all right. My body might have been made for dresses like this, but clearly dresses like this were not made for my body. If I so much as take a deep breath, we’re talking wardrobe malfunction of humiliating proportions.”

  “Come out, or I’m coming in.”

  The door opened. His heart stopped. “Wow.”

  “From the way you just went pale, I’m guessing that’s not a good ‘wow,’ huh?”

  “Maybe the femme fatale thing wasn’t such a good strategy.”

  Rather than look hurt or insulted, she looked triumphant. And more than a little relieved. That was why his heart was no longer his to command. With Sophie, it was about getting the job done, whatever the job might be. Vanity and ego rarely entered into it, which made her confidence in herself a million times sexier.

  “I told you,” she said, openly smug. “Now, help me get out of this body-length tourniquet.” She turned around and presented him with the rear view. “The zipper is stuck halfway up.”

  He had no idea where the zipper was, not that he could tell her. His throat had turned to dust. The rest of him, however, had turned into a raging inferno of testosterone. He’d gotten this dress mostly to fulfill their plan of attack, but also as a test for himself. He didn’t like the possessive, jealous side she brought out in him, and had hoped that with their freshly forged commitment to trying to be together as a team—though she’d already pushed the teamwork aspect way further than he’d been prepared to let her—he might settle back into the rational, sensible male he’d always been up to the day he’d met her.

  Apparently that man had not made a return engagement. Not where parading her around in something that made her look like sex on a stick was concerned. And it had absolutely nothing to do with trust. And everything to do with men ogling her, fantasizing about her, picturing her as he very well knew they’d be picturing her, because he most certainly was. It made him want to behave quite…primitively. “Wow,” he said again, not wanting to damn himself in any other way. It was his problem, not hers.

  There was a pause, then she said, “Okay, that didn’t sound like such a bad wow.”

  “Trust me,” he choked out. “All good.”

  “Very funny.” She looked over her shoulder, but her indulgent smile immediately turned to one of wariness and she turned fully around. “Okay, now you’re looking like you want to drag me into the nearest cave by my hair.”

  “Amazingly accurate description,” he said, a hunger welling up in him that dwarfed all that had come before it.

  “Simon, you picked the thing out, so you can hardly—”

  “My goal, at the time, was to put you in something that would attract attention on a large scale, and give you entrée to Tolliver and his significant other’s inner circle at the gala.”

  “And?”

  “And…” He trailed off, looking again at how the emerald-green dress with the plunging neckline and the barely there back hugged her siren curves in a way that would have made Marilyn Monroe envious. “Wow might not be a terribly astute description, but it really sort of sums it up.”

  “Are you going to help me take it off or not?”

  He stepped closer. “Oh, I want to rip it from your body. With my teeth.” He stepped closer still. “Then take you up against the nearest wall.” Another step. “In the chair by the window. Across the foot of the bed.” Another step, which backed her up against the sink. “And anywhere else I can have you.”

  He saw her visibly gulp. “Wow,” she breathed.

  “Exactly. I’m feeling like I’ve suddenly been given thirty years’ worth of Christmas presents to unwrap all in the form of a single, perfect package.”

  “The things you say…” Her eyes were wide, and fixed on his.

  “The things you make me feel,” he responded.

  “I don’t know whether to be flattered that I can affect you like that, or worried that you really are going to drag me off by my hair.” Her lips quirked a little. “Mostly because I might find out I like it when you get all caveman on me.” Her lips bowed into a soft curve. “How politically incorrect of me.”

  And that was the Sophie he was falling in love with; the femme fatale in the green dress who made jokes at her own expense, and still had no idea of her true power. He was so well and truly gone. He’d have asked her to marry him on the spot if he thought she’d take him seriously.

  He framed her face with his palms. “How is it that no man has dragged you off as yet?”

  “Gosh,” she said dryly, “hard to imagine.”

  “Truly,” he said, quite sincere, “it is. The idea of taking you out in that is nerve-rackin
g.”

  She covered his hands with her own and pulled them, joined, between them. “Why? Don’t you think I can handle myself? I mean, I might not be the most natural—”

  “You’re a born natural. Thank God you’re the only one who doesn’t know it or you could rule the world by sundown.”

  “You are the best ego boost a girl could ever have, you know that?”

  “I say what I mean. I think you can more than handle yourself. And I think it’s that very uncertainty you seem to have about your impact, though God knows why with the mirrors right behind you telling the story, that will make tonight a smashing success.”

  “Then why are you worried?”

  He pulled her into his arms, trapping her hands between them. “Because if, at any point, you do discover just what amazing powers you wield, I’m afraid you’ll ditch me for the nearest bloke with a local address and a winning smile.”

  “You think me as shallow as all that, do you?” She was smiling when she said it, clearly not believing him even remotely.

  “I no longer know what to think,” he said, then dipped his chin, resting his forehead on hers. “This is uncharted territory for me, this possessive streak, this…this…jealousy. I’m not fond of it, I must admit.”

  “I can’t believe you.” She tipped his face back up to hers. “Talk about a man who wields weapons. Have you looked in the mirror lately, sir? What if we go out and you’re swamped by women who actually wear clothes like this as a regular course of action? What prayer do I have?”

  “You’re being ridiculous. I’m completely besotted.”

  “Ditto.” She gave him a smacking kiss. “So, shut up already.”

  He jerked her more tightly against him, and kissed her back so fiercely it was a miracle they both didn’t burst into a spontaneous inferno.

  When he broke the kiss, her eyes were unfocused and her mouth…dear heavens, her mouth. His body both trembled and simultaneously made him feel like he could leap buildings in a single bound. “The need I have for you…this can’t be sane.”

  “Simon,” she said, rather shakily, “has it ever occurred to you that this…thing, this…whatever the hell connection it is we share, is a force to contend with because we share it? If we can trust in it—”

  “That’s just it. It’s hard to trust in something I can’t even explain. I feel like it would be more rational for it to vanish as swiftly as it arrived. Rather like you’re Cinderella at the ball, and I’m the poor bloke who’ll be left with nothing more than the glass slipper and the harsh reality that it was all a fantasy after it’s over.”

  “Simon—”

  “Sophie,” he said, on a sigh. “I’m being quite ridiculous, you don’t have to tell me that. I just need to—”

  “Believe in me,” she said, then smoothed her hand over his cheek and brushed the hair at his temple. “Believe in us. Believe that we’ll do our best, and stick by each other. Take on the world, and see what happens. Beyond that, there are no guarantees, right? What happens, will happen.”

  He smiled then, and his heart settled a bit. “Think you’re so smart, do you?”

  “I have a lot more faith in my smarts than I do in this dress,” she said, “but I’ll tell you, the way you look at me in this dress makes me feel like I can conquer the world.” She slipped her hands in his and squeezed. “And that’s what really matters, right?”

  “You’re amazing.”

  “I’m terrified,” she said. “But not of us. Us excites me, and exhilarates me. My only hope of having any success at that gala tonight is with you at my side.”

  “Ditto, Miss Maplethorpe.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t get too attached to that idea. We both know my track record in hotel espionage. So far, it’s two-to-zip against. You sure you want to even try this? Maybe you should go alone. Maybe—”

  “What happened to conquering the world?”

  “I’d rather conquer a world where there are less potential felonies involved. And no heels. Work my way up.”

  He grinned. “You’ll be fine. I might have a heart attack every time I look at you in that dress, and there could be fireworks if Tolliver so much as winks, but—”

  “Isn’t that the whole point? To get his attention?”

  “Not that kind of attention. You’re supposed to work your way into his inner circle, then hover until his—”

  “Business associate?” she filled in dryly.

  “Whoever she is. When she takes a break for the ladies room, you need to be with her. It’s our only chance.”

  “And where will you be, again? If you can’t let Tolliver see you, then how—.”

  “Just as I explained. I’ll be there. It’s going to be very, very crowded. It won’t be difficult for me to stay close by without being seen.”

  “You’re wearing that, right?” She nodded to the tux that was hanging on the back of the door. He nodded.

  “You’ll be seen. Women will flock, find excuses to be near you. You’ll draw attention. Trust me.”

  “The room will be filled with men in tuxedos.”

  “Trust me,” she repeated.

  He squeezed her hands now. “You’ll have to trust me. I might not have a clue how to handle you in that dress, but with this, I do know what I’m doing.”

  “I believe that. Just as I believe that, when the night is over, you’ll know exactly how to handle me in this dress. Or out of it.”

  “You know how to provide proper motivation, I’ll give you that.”

  “I might totally stink at the actual espionage part, but I talk a good game.”

  “Well, talking is all that is expected of you this evening.”

  “Speaking of which, when I make my trip to the ladies’ room, then what? I mean, I know you said you’d be around—”

  “Just stall long enough to make sure I have enough time to get from wherever I am to that area. I’ll take care of it from there.”

  For the first time, she frowned. “You’ll take care of it how, exactly?

  He smiled, hoping it was reassuring. “How a professional takes care of things.”

  “Simon—”

  “Sophie,” he admonished. “We went over this. I am forever grateful to have you on my side in this, but I really don’t want you involved any more than you have to be.”

  “Need-to-know basis,” she said, somewhat dryly.

  “More or less, yes.”

  She didn’t argue the point. They’d already done that, and while she’d made her case for helping him out, he’d stood his ground on not involving her beyond helping to set up the situation.

  “What about after?” she asked.

  “I’ll need to leave the country.” At her alarmed look, he quickly kissed her and added, “Just to return the emerald to Guinn. Then I’ll need to settle things in London while I’m there. And…make certain I’m not going to have Tolliver trolling after me, and, therefore, you.”

  “Is that a strong possibility?”

  “I’m sure we’ll have a talk.”

  “A talk.”

  “Trust me, okay?”

  “I’m trying. But you may have to reassure me. A lot. Not about being gone—I completely understand about that. I’d go with you if I could take the time away from here. But about Tolliver, and you being safe. I’ll want to know you’re safe.”

  “Done.” He turned her around and tugged her zipper the rest of the way up. “Now, how about we go get Guinn’s birthright back?”

  “I never asked—how did you figure it out? That it rightfully belonged to Guinn? Did you find proof?”

  “No. I can’t prove it’s his. And I can’t prove Tolliver faked those documents. Not without access to them, which, of course, he won’t give me at this point. Had I known at the time I did have my hands on them, I would have called in some favors and done every test available. I only did some cursory checking on them because I fully believed Tolliver’s claims, and all the other bull he’d been feeding me.”


  “What changed?”

  “Getting to know Guinn. And knowing what was in my gut. After first meeting him, despite Tolliver’s claims I felt sorry for him even then, but I had what I thought was ironclad proof. And a belief that Tolliver was a good man, with good intentions. I soon learned otherwise, partly on my own, and partly through Guinn.”

  “But it was too late?”

  “Far too late. I confronted Tolliver about it, tried to get him to do the right thing, and was quickly shown the door and threatened with the ruination of my career if I pursued it.”

  “But you did.”

  “I did. And, so far, respect for my skills hasn’t diminished in the circles I move in, but that is partly due to the fact that when I got it wrong, which I did, I immediately went to work to make it right.”

  “What if we can’t get it back?”

  Simon shook his head. “I wronged a man who didn’t deserve it, and this will be the last chance he will have, in his lifetime, to right another wrong done to ancestors of his who were also swayed by the powerful, persuasive rhetoric of past members of Tolliver’s family. I have to get it back.”

  She smiled, and slipped the bag containing his tux off the back of the door. “Then you might want to go put this on. The show is about to start.”

  “What did I do to deserve you again?”

  She bussed him on his lips. “Um, tied me to a hotel chair until I could discover for myself that you are an amazing, fantastic man whom I’m happy to help steal priceless gemstones for?”

  He grinned. “Oh yeah. That.”

  “Now, hurry up. I can only pretend I can breathe in this for so long.”

  15

  SOPHIE TRIED TO PRETEND she was Julia Roberts, making her grand entrance at the end of Pretty Woman. There were some very gratifying, confidence-boosting double takes, and a few conversations that went silent as she made her way through the crowded room, but, mostly, Sophie didn’t think Julia had anything to worry about. If Sophie could find Tolliver before she disgraced herself by falling off the impossibly high heels she was wearing and into a platter of passing crab canapés, she’d consider it a job well done.