we’re on?”
She extended her hand, clearly indicating she wanted him to leave the vault. “Sure. Can’t wait.”
Like spending time with him was torture. To keep his temper in check, he thought of his family’s legacy so closely within his grasp. It had actually been in his grasp a few minutes ago. That gem held answers to his past. He wasn’t letting it go. “Think of the professional contacts you could make with my family and their friends. Don’t you want to spend time with Sophia Graystone’s grandson?”
She pulled the door to the vault closed. The alarm reset automatically, emitting a series of beeps. “Not particularly, no.”
He’d have to see what he could do about changing her mind.
JACINDA SMOOTHED her hand down her hair as she approached the entrance of Thai Bistro. Her heart was pounding ridiculously, and she couldn’t get the image of Gideon’s inviting smile out of her mind. Nor the memory of his hot body, and the amazing things he could do with it.
He’d tempted her beyond her boundaries before. He’d made her forget her goals of earning money for school, of working her way up to a respectable profession and life. He’d dangled the possibility of a life without rules, without structure or—at least she thought at the time—security.
To learn he had all the security—aka dollars—he needed, and then some, was maddening. Infuriating. And, damn it, smart. The fact that he’d lied to an exotic dancer he’d picked up for a two-night stand in Vegas was certainly understandable.
The big questions for her were more profound. Would she have given up her big plans if she’d known about his bank account during those few crazy days? Would she have followed him into the sunset and happily been his arm candy?
Would she have compromised her goals for money?
The fact that she honestly didn’t know made her as edgy and irritable now as it had earlier that morning when Gideon had disclosed his family’s history.
Of course, she’d thoroughly checked out him and his story. After reluctantly confessing her personal history and present regarding Gideon—leaving out the claims about the emerald, since they were too bizarre to consider—she and Andrew had scoured the Internet, hoping beyond reason to find a hole in Gideon’s story, to find doubt that he was the grandson of the infamous Sophia Graystone.
Andrew, with all his high-society connections, had called a friend, who’d called a friend to get the scoop. His people had gleefully confirmed that the rebellious, not-quite-respectable, Indiana Jones–like Gideon Nash was a member of the Graystone dynasty.
Ugh.
Worse, later, when she was alone again she’d found published photos of Sophia wearing the gem that resembled the emerald currently sitting in the Callibro’s Auction House vault. Scheduled to be sold in six days. For millions of dollars.
The Veros family—on record as the current owners of the emerald—and her boss, Mr. Pascowitz, were going to be seriously pissed if Gideon could prove his claims.
Then there was the personal risk to herself and her reputation. She didn’t want her past—of which Gideon was an undeniable part—anywhere near her present. Last year, pictures of her boss’s secretary posing in a beach bikini contest had circulated around the office with much snickering from the men and derisive comments from the women. Shortly thereafter the secretary had been fired for cause—job performance and attendance issues being cited. But in Jacinda’s mind, the photos had precipitated the action.
Just imagine what response pictures of herself in glitter, barely there spandex and fishnets would instigate. The thought made her break out in hives.
The whole business was a damn mess, and yet all Jacinda could think of were hot, wild, inappropriate thoughts about the man causing all the trouble.
The man would be her downfall. She was absolutely certain of it.
As she flung open the door to the restaurant, she reflected on their earlier conversation. She did have plans for dinner.
One of those new spa meals from Lean Cuisine.
But she also had fantasies about spending time with Gideon. And none of them included dinner.
Dessert, maybe.
When her cell phone rang, and she recognized the number as Andrew’s, she answered the call.
“Are you there yet?” he asked.
“Walking in the door.”
“Do you still want me to call in an hour about your urgent appointment?”
“Definitely.”
“You’re weak.”
“And then some.”
“Honey, I would be, too, if that man looked at me the way he looks at you.”
Jacinda sighed. “You’re not helping.”
“Oh, right. Stay strong. Keep your blouse buttoned.”
“Got it.”
“And definitely keep your pants buttoned.”
“I’m wearing a skirt.”
“Well, then—”
“Oh, man, there he is.”
Andrew expelled a lustful sigh. “How does he look?”
“Same as earlier. Jeans. White T-shirt.”
“Lip-smacking, in other words.”
Jacinda’s nipples throbbed. “Yep. Pretty much.”
“Go get ’im.”
She halted on her way to the bar. “Andrew!”
“Right. Don’t get him—at least not physically.” He paused. “Can you get him physically, tell me all the details and still have us maintain the integrity of the auction?”
“Oh, hell. I don’t see how.”
“Still, I’d go for it.”
“You’re supposed to be helping.”
“He is really sexy.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“As long as you call me in the morning!”
More frustrated and nervous than ever, especially knowing Andrew had no intention of calling her later to save her, Jacinda ended the call. Heading toward Gideon, she straightened her shoulders and convinced herself she could be calm and cool in his presence.
The bead of sweat rolling between her breasts belied her forced confidence, but she ignored that, too.
She could keep her job and her respectability while sharing a drink with a sexy guy. Even if that sexy guy could threaten her job and respectability. Even if he decided to play this game dirty and threaten to expose her past unless she helped him get the gem it was her responsibility to protect. Even if that guy added the temptation of another hot night or two, where rules and respectability were stifled by lingering kisses and arousing touches.
Sure, no problem.
3
JACINDA STROLLED toward Gideon as if she didn’t have a care in the world and slid onto the bar stool he pulled out next to him. “Johnnie Walker on the rocks,” she said to the bartender.
The guy’s gaze tracked down her body, presumably taking in her pale blue Chanel suit and expensive leather bag. “That’s not a very prissy drink.”
“I’m not a prissy woman.”
“It’s nice to see a high-powered job and fancy office haven’t completely tamed you,” Gideon said as he returned to his seat.
She