He told himself that he’d been eager to clear her out the room so he could get down to business, but that was a big fat stinker of a lie. No, he’d tried to rush her out of the room because he found her so damn distracting.
Considering the way she filled out those tight black jeans, he’d lay money that any male with apulse would have reacted just like him. Because this little thief was one fine-looking woman. Stunning, really, her big green eyes staring up at him in the dark, with equal parts of contrived innocence and defiance.
He tried to ignore the irony. Ten thousand women his grandmother had thrown at him, and the only woman he’d ever found attractive was a feisty little gal he’d caught in a compromising position. He had no clue what that said about his character, but at the moment he didn’t care. He’d watched, silent, as she’d tucked the necklace into its box and then stashed it in the safe. She’d broken in, yes. But she hadn’t stolen. His pat-down had confirmed that.
So what exactly was she up to?
He didn’t really believe the UC Irvine story; she’d jumped too eagerly onto the explanation. But the truth didn’t matter right then. At the moment he had another agenda on his mind, and unless he missed his guess, he figured he had less than fifteen minutes before Emily came looking for him.
He didn’t have any choice. Company or not, it was time to move the process along. He turned back to the safe, then dialed in the combination he’d known since his teenage years. The door swungopen and he took out the jewel box that he’d watched Emily pilfer from Frances’s bedroom. He opened the lid, confirmed the necklace really was inside, then slipped the box into his jacket pocket. Tomorrow he’d change the locks on Emily’s balcony door and see to it that she kept her alarm armed even during parties.
He headed toward the door. “Come on,” he said, trying to sound casual as he tossed the words over his shoulder. “We’re leaving through here.”
“‘Come on?’ she repeated. “Come on?You’re just leaving? Like that? With the necklace?”
“Well, I could have you arrested for breaking and entering, but considering you didn’t steal anything, I think the cops would probably just have a good laugh and let you go. Hardly seems worth my effort.” Okay, that wasn’t the least bit true, but it sounded good. And he sure as hell didn’t want to get the cops involved. If Frances ever caught the scent of what Emily had done, she’d hound the cops until they had no choice but to press charges against his grandmother.
“So you’re just going to let me go?”
“That’s what it comes down to.”
She glared. “You’rethe one stealing a necklace.” She pointed an accusing finger toward his pocket.“Where the hell do you think you’re going with that?”
“I’m returning it,” he said, “to its owner.”
She paled, and Kyle didn’t have to be a genius to realize he’d struck a nerve. “Okay,” he said. “Spill it.”
“What do you mean by ‘its owner’? Isn’t that Miss Emily’s necklace?” She pointed vaguely in the direction of his pocket.
“It belongs to Frances McIntyre.”
“Who?”
“Emily’s sister.”
“Oh.” Her brow furrowed. “No, that can’t be right.”
“Trust me. It’s right.”
She squinted at him. “Prove it.”
“Sure,” he said. “No problem.” He hoped his voice conveyed more confidence than he felt, because he had absolutely no idea if he could prove it or not. His only hope was the engrained family habit of labeling everything. Their father had been a farm worker, and Emily, Frances and their parents had moved from camp to camp. According to Emily, the two girls had learned to write their name on anything. If they didn’t, any one of the other campchildren would simply acquire it, and the girls’ belongings would soon dwindle to nothing.
He pulled the box from his pocket, keeping his fingers mentally crossed. Then he opened the case, revealing the stunning necklace. He didn’t waste time enjoying the view, though. Instead he turned the piece over, his eyes going automatically to the clasp. When he saw it, a smile bloomed on his mouth, and he held the necklace out to the girl.
“Looks like I win, sweetheart. I think maybe it’s time I show you to the door.”
She leaned in closer, then scowled at the “F” and “M” engraved on the flat clasp. “How do I know you’re returning the necklace?” she finally asked. “For all I know you could be stealing it.”
He stared at her for a moment, measuring. Then he dug into his pocket and pulled out his tiny little cell phone. He tossed it at her, impressed when she caught it with one hand. “Report me.”
He held his breath, praying she didn’t call his bluff.
She held the phone like a worry stone, her thumb rubbing its silver back. “I thoughtIwas returning the necklace,” she finally said. “To its owner.” She met his eyes. “To Emily.”
He shook his head. “Returning it? You mean you came herewiththe necklace?”
She nodded, and he exhaled. That would teach him to jump to conclusions. He hadn’t actually believed the UC Irvine story, but he’d still assumed she was some sort of thrill seeker who just wanted to see if she could get into Emily’s bedroom and safe. But if she’d beenreturningthe necklace, that raised a whole host of new questions. “So you lied,” he said. “You’re not a student.”
