CHAPTER 2
MEL FROZE, thrown off-kilter by the owner of the shoe’s deep, rich voice. Then slowly, carefully, she inched sideways toward the French doors and away from the shoe—and the man attached to it.
“Hello?” That voice again. Surely the owner of such a melodic voice wouldn’t trundle her off to jail. “You want to turn around so I’m not talking to your ponytail?”
“Um, no. Actually, that’s not my first choice.” She was perfectly content to stand there staring toward the balcony. Longing for the balcony, actually.
“Humor me,” he said, and there was no denying the command in his voice.
With a little sigh, she reached up, her fingers closing over her ponytail holder. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, but she needed to buy time and she really didn’t see any other alternative. She sure as hell didn’t need a B&E on her record, not when she’d gone her whole career without even an arrest. No, right now she was willing to do prettymuch anything to get out of there without getting the cops involved. And if that meant turning on the charm, well, then that’s exactly what she intended to do. After all, Gramps had been in over a dozen movies. Surely she’d inheritedsomeacting ability.
She tugged on the band and the thick, chaotic hair that annoyed her so much sprang free, falling to the middle of her back. She flipped it, taking care to make the gesture as sultry as she could without actually turning around to face him. “There,” she murmured. “Now you’re not staring at my ponytail.”
“Not exactly what I meant,” he said, his voice closer now.
“No?” A hand closed on her shoulder and spun her around. “I—” She tilted her head back, ready to kick the flirting into overdrive, but stopped short, all rational thought evaporating.
Gorgeous. Absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent knock-your-socks-off, take-your-breath-away gorgeous. Sandy-blond hair. Rich-blue eyes that were crinkled at the corners with a combination of amusement and irritation. Broad shoulders and a trim waist accented by a dress shirt and tailored slacks.
Forget pretending to flirt, a man this fabulous deservedthe real thing, a wonderfully flirty turn of phrase that would ensure he not only let her go but also feel madly, hopelessly under her spell. But her head was in too much of a muddle to produce even a coherent sentence.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
The bubble burst, and Mel straightened, feeling stupid. She’d lost herself in the fantasy, allowing the rush of adrenaline from the whole necklace caper to color her perception about everything, including this man. Thisstranger. But this wasn’t a movie, he wasn’t her leading man, and she needed to concentrate if she wanted to get out of there with her reputation—and her record—intact.
With supreme effort, she forced herself to play it cool, then conjured a slow smile. “I’m nobody important.” His hand still rested on her shoulder, and she fought a rush of awareness. Whether she wanted to or not, her body was determined to notice this man. However, she was equally determined to keep tight control over the situation. As much as she could, anyway, considering she’d been the one caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “Maybe we can keep this our little secret?” In desperation, she actually batted her eyelashes.
“Our secret?” He frowned, his hand moving from her shoulder as his fingertip traced a path down her arm. It was everything she could do not to shiver. “Yeah. Maybe we can.”
“Really?” She cleared her throat, forcing her body back into a more casual, self-assured posture. She had no idea why he was willing to back off, but she wasn’t about to argue. Her grandfather didn’t raise a fool.
“I think so,” he said. “As long as you’re clean.”
She cocked an eyebrow.“Excuse me?”
“Arms wide. Legs apart.”
She stared down her nose, trying to gauge if he was serious. Apparently, he was. She did a quick calculation, decided there was no way she’d survive if she took a running leap toward the balcony, and assumed the stance.
His hands skimmed over her, a purely professional pat down, but there was nothing at all professional about the heat generated by his touch. He did a quick press under the curve of her breasts, and she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to will her nipples not to peak. The situation might be completely humiliating, but with this man running the show it was damned enticing, as well.
She closed her eyes and started counting backwardfrom fifty, hoping the mindless activity would distract her. It worked until twenty-five. That’s when his hands skimmed up the inside of her thighs. She jumped, then scooted away from his touch. “Okay, okay,” she said. “That’s just about enough of that.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t argue. Instead he said, “Nice gloves,” then pointed to her fanny pack. “Open it.”
She did, and he poked through the contents.
“Quite the collection of tools,” he said. “Want to tell me why you’re here?”
“No.”
He nodded. “Okay. Then maybe you want to tell me why you broke in only to look at a diamond necklace and then put it right back where you got it?”
“You saw me?”
“I walked in as you were putting it back in the safe.”
