Clyde slid his hand down from her waist and cupped her butt. “I had to come and see my baby off.”
“You really didn’t have to,” she said, her voice two octaves higher than normal.
“But that was very thoughtful,” Arlene said.
Noreen shot her sister a look then said, “You remember my sister, uh…Noreen?”
“Sure, hi,” he said, barely giving Arlene a glance, which wasn’t unusual. He rarely noticed her. He was the kind of man who only paid attention to things he considered beautiful and engaging, and to him bookish, bespectacled Noreen Webster wasn’t on that list. He focused his attention on the woman he thought was Arlene, which could have been romantic, but there was something in his steady gaze that chilled her. Fortunately, her sister sometimes wore colored contacts for fun, so Clyde wouldn’t wonder why “Arlene” was wearing contacts now. Noreen stared back at him, trying to stay in character, but she found his clothes too neat, his skin too smooth and his eyes too probing. His cologne mingled with the slight scent of cigarettes, which didn’t surprise her. She knew about his habit because she’d seen him light up an expensive brand with a gold lighter he kept in his pocket. Noreen studied him, still unable to understand what her sister saw in him. “You remember everything I told you?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He pinched her butt then leaned close and whispered, “Why are you wearing panties?”
Noreen swallowed. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Did you think I’d let you go without a little goodbye present?”
Noreen felt her stomach turn and feared she’d be ill. She glared at her sister, who just smiled. She was going to make her sister pay for this. “I think I’ll have a big present for you when I get back. Trust me, it will be worth the wait.”
His eyes gleamed. “Is that a promise?”
“A guarantee.”
He bent to kiss her again, but Noreen drew away and said, “I just have to talk to my sister for a minute.” She took Arlene’s arm and dragged her over to the side. When they were out of hearing she said, “I’ve changed my mind.”
“You can’t change your mind now—it’s too late. The plane leaves in an hour.”
“No, it’s not too late. All we have to do is go into one of the bathrooms and switch clothes.”
“And you’ll go to the doctor for me to find out if I’m pregnant or not?” Arlene asked with sarcasm.
Noreen covered her eyes, feeling trapped. “What have I gotten myself into?”
“You’re worrying again. Stop it.”
“Didn’t you just see what happened?”
“Yes.” Arlene folded her arms. “But I’m not jealous if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Jealous?”
“Yes, about you kissing my man.”
“
He
kissed
me.”
Arlene shrugged, seemingly unconcerned, and adjusted
Noreen’s headband. “Didn’t I tell you he was different? No one else would come and see me off this way.”
Noreen slapped Arlene’s hand away. “Stop messing with my hair. I never do that to you.”
“I just want you to look perfect. Remember, image is everything.”
“Hmm.”
Arlene rested her hands on Noreen’s shoulders. “Thank you for doing this. Now, I don’t want you to worry. In a week everything will be back to normal.”
Noreen glanced at Clyde, who was picking lint off his jacket. “I’m not kissing him again.”
“You have to kiss him goodbye,” Arlene pleaded.
Noreen grimaced. “I’m going to make it fast.” She darted over to Clyde and kissed him on the cheek. “Look after things for me. I need to go,” she said and dashed into the security-clearance line before he could say anything. She waved wildly at them, the way she knew Arlene would. ‘“Bye, Noreen!”
Arlene’s wave was more subdued and in character. ‘“Bye, Arlene. Have fun and remember you’re going on the high seas.”
“Why?”
Arlene pushed the glasses she wore up on her nose then winked. “Be careful of pirates.”
Virginia
“Her name is Arlene Webster.”
Michael Vaughn looked at the picture of a smiling
face staring at him from his laptop. “She’s Harris’s latest?” he asked, surprised. He shook his head then hit the speaker button on his phone. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“She looks barely legal.”
“At twenty-nine, she just looks young. She’s your target.”
Michael stifled a groan. “I’m going to look like a pervert.”
Darren laughed. “She might look sweet in photos, but this woman is a chameleon and can look ‘grown up’ real fast. We think that’s why Harris selected her. No one would suspect her of anything. My source says she’s going on the cruise to make a drop somewhere on St. Lagans.”
“Do you think she knows about Harris?”
“Maybe. She seems to have a talent for bad boys and as a teen twice got picked up for shoplifting.”
“Do you think she knows what the drop is?”
“That’s your job to find out. We don’t call you ‘The Charmer’ for nothing.”
Michael rested his head back then glanced around his sparse surroundings. His one-bedroom apartment had all the basic creature comforts a bachelor would need and nothing more. He was hardly there so he didn’t invest in it. He was used to traveling and was too restless to settle down. But last year he’d tried to retire from his previous occupation to attempt something more ordinary and suited to him—writing for travel magazines. It was fun but the wanderlust and need for
excitement hadn’t left him and he felt bored. His life was like a postcard—uncomplicated and well traveled.
But hearing from Darren again had been a surprise. Darren was in the business of purchasing antique items for private individuals who were extremely wealthy and did not want to go the traditional route of private sales and public auctions to get what they wanted. Whenever one of his clients—old or new—had an item stolen, they did not like to use law enforcement because they wanted their business handled with discretion. Darren was a longtime client and friend who used Michael’s expertise to help him and other wealthy friends or acquaintances of his.
Recently, a very rare item had been stolen from Darren’s own estate, and he needed Michael’s help to retrieve it. Michael had started the business with his cousin, who had taught him some tricks about human nature when he was a teenager, and they had both become successful and rich, thanks to their many happy clients.
“Why am I helping you again?” Michael asked.
“Because you’re the best and I’ll make it worth your while.” Darren was quiet for a moment then said, “I know you tried to retire.”
“I didn’t
try,
I did.”
“Yes, but I thought a year was long enough for you. Am I right?”
Yes, but Michael wouldn’t admit it.
Darren took his silence as agreement. “I want to get
my
property back and I want to see Harris go down. I know you can get him for me. I don’t ask favors very
often but I’m asking for this one. Do I need to remind you about Jen?”
Michael gripped the pen he was holding, trying not to think about his biggest mistake. “No more than you need to remind me that I have two hands.”
“Sorry, but I’ll resort to blackmail if I have to.”
“You don’t have to,” Michael said. Years ago Darren had forgiven him for a major screwup, which could have ruined both of their reputations. He sighed. “I’m in.”
“Good.” Darren’s voice lightened. “What are you doing for Christmas?”
“I never think that far.”
“Come and visit me in North Carolina. It’s been a while.”
It had also been a while since Darren’s wife had died and he knew the holidays were a hard time for him. Darren’s wife had been a steadying presence in his life and Michael knew he missed her. Michael switched the speaker off and put the phone to his ear. “Sure.”
“Bring a friend.”
Michael’s sympathy for his friend evaporated. “You know I’m not seeing anyone.”
“Maybe that will change.”
“What else do I need to know?” Michael asked, annoyed by the subject.
“I’ll keep you posted, but there’s really not much to say. Don’t worry, this girl is a ditz. It’s going to be one of the easiest jobs you’ve ever had. Flash your usual charm and she’ll be putty in your hands and get you what I want.”
Michael looked at the face on the screen, knowing this target wouldn’t be much of a problem. “Like stealing candy from a baby.”
Island of Quita
M
ore than a week later, Michael was certain it would have been easier to tame a cobra than charm Arlene Webster. She’d coolly refused his invitations to have a drink, ignored his smiles and his attempts at flirtation and only answered him with monosyllabic replies. She’d shot down every chance he’d tried to get to know her and although he’d been on the cruise for three days, he’d gotten nowhere.
Michael took a sip of champagne and watched her from across the ballroom. The cruise had stopped on the island of Quita to host a masquerade ball at a local mansion. He didn’t pay much attention to the festivities because he’d attended many before. All that mattered
was the infuriating woman dressed up like a sorceress. Even her costume had surprised him. He’d expected her to dress up like a cheerleader or a naughty nurse, not a witch. A stylish purple wig covered her curly hair and a dark blue velvet gown with wide sleeves hugged her petite, curvy form. A black velvet mask with ostrich feathers covered the upper half of her face while spiked heels, red fishnet stockings and long black gloves completed the image.
Even in costume Michael could spot her determined “don’t mess with me” walk anywhere. It didn’t make sense. He never failed with women. Never. From the moment he’d begun to talk, he’d been able to charm the fairer sex. He enjoyed women and knew what made them tick—from the shy ones to the brazen ones—but Arlene Webster was proving to be an enigma. Everything Darren had told him about her felt wrong. He didn’t sense that she was a ditz or Harris’s latest baby doll. Yes, she definitely looked like one in the skimpy dresses and cute jeans she liked to wear, but that’s where things seemed to end.
She didn’t mingle with the other guests; there was an aloof, observant air about her. Had Harris changed his type? Maybe, but even if Harris had changed his type, why wouldn’t the blasted woman even talk to him? He was not used to being ignored and he couldn’t deny that it was starting to become a personal challenge as well as a professional one. He was going to get close to Arlene—and make sure she noticed him—no matter what. He’d just have to find her weakness.
So far his usual bait hadn’t worked. She wasn’t
interested in money (he’d casually displayed his Rolex watch), flattery (he’d complimented her on the color of her eyes), brains (having taken this cruise at least three times he’d told her fascinating details about the ship) or sex (his killer smile had always said plenty). He was good-looking, rich, intelligent and a little devilish, but that wasn’t enough for her. He needed to find out why.
“Still no luck?” an amused voice said beside him.
Michael didn’t have to look to see who it was. Joy Nedham, a colleague of his, was also on assignment and he knew whoever she had in mind didn’t have much of a chance. She was gorgeous and lethal. “It’s still early.”
“You usually have them drooling by the first half hour.”
“It appears that this one will require a little more strategy.”
“Maybe you’ve lost your touch.”
Michael took another sip of his drink. She was trying to goad him, but he wouldn’t let her. He hadn’t lost his touch and he was going to get Darren what he wanted. Michael Vaughn didn’t fail. He’d get under Arlene’s shield. He prided himself on being a chameleon able to assess a woman’s needs and provide her with them. He was determined to find out what Arlene wanted and make sure she felt he was the only man to give it to her. “Come on, let’s get something to eat,” he said then made his way to the buffet table.
He was the perfect hero.
Or villain. Noreen watched the striking, dark figure as he moved slowly about the mansion’s elegant ballroom, trying to decide which.
The masquerade ball was in full swing with hundreds of masked vacationers wearing a varied assortment of costumes, but the dark stranger had decided not to wear a mask—he didn’t need one. He wasn’t classically handsome. His square jaw was too angular, his features more rugged than refined, but he was still beautiful to look at, with his rich ebony skin, trim goatee and captivating smile.
Noreen frowned at the memory of that smile. The first time he’d flashed it at her, her heart raced as though she’d just completed a marathon. Then she remembered he wasn’t smiling at her, he was smiling at “Arlene” and Noreen knew that any man attracted to Arlene was bad news. She may be wearing Arlene’s clothes and doing her job, but she wasn’t picking up her men—no matter how intriguing—and this man certainly was.
Noreen had noticed that he smiled easily, but the expression seemed false, like a tactical play, and his features gave nothing away. She could not guess what he thought of the atmosphere around him—the glittering lights and the sumptuous food. She couldn’t tell whether he was pleased or bored. And that was unsettling.
Noreen’s gaze moved from his face to his costume. He wore a black hat tilted at an angle, a long black cloak with a dagger hanging from his belt, tall black boots and a dark purple shirt. His entire outfit seemed to imply he wanted to disappear into the night sky. He looked like a buccaneer or a pirate. Yes, that was it, a pirate. Not the stereotypical kind with a parrot on the shoulder or a black eye patch. He didn’t need those. Even on the ship, dressed in casual khaki trousers and a blue short-sleeve
shirt, he’d had a piratical air. But whether he stole hearts or was more mercenary, she couldn’t be sure because he kept his true nature subtle.
But tonight it was evident. He projected the image of a dangerous man on the wrong side of the law. Yes, definitely a villain. And yet he was far from frightening—he was mesmerizing. No woman could keep their eyes off him. He was a man impossible to ignore. Men also noticed him more out of respect than fear, as if he were an alpha male entering a pack.