Gemma Halliday - Alibi In High Heels

"Just like Jean Luc."

Mom nodded. "Interesting coincidence?"

As much as I was beginning to hate that word, I had to agree with her. I wished we'd had time to check the pockets of Gisella's Chanel. I'd bet my ballet flats there were more than hankies in them.

"All right, so let's assume that Gisella was taking the jewelry. Then what? What did she intend to do with them?" I asked.

Mom shrugged. "Sell them?"

"On the black market! She had to have someone fencing the jewels for her. A partner," Mrs. R said. "My third husband, Alf, had a pawn shop for a while. They're real particular about what they take. They don't wanna get busted. It ain't as easy as it looks to unload hot stuff."

"So, assuming it was Gisella, who was unloading it for her?" I wondered out loud.

"Another model?" Mom offered. "Mystery boyfriend?"

"Maybe her agent?" Mrs. R piped up.

I thought about that. Angelica had said that Gisella called her agent numerous times a day. Maybe the calls hadn't been about booking a cover after all, but about where to get rid of a half million dollars in stolen diamonds. "Did you find anything on who her agent is?" I asked, shuffling through the computer printouts.

"Here," Mrs. R said, pointing to a printout of a website that read "Girardi Models" across the header. "Donata Girardi. She's based in Milan, Gisella's hometown."

"Oh, I saw something about that," Mom said, grabbing the stack from me. More shuffling. "Ah!" She pulled a gossip column out. "Donata Girardi is staying at the Hotel de Crillon. She's the one that threw the party where Gisella wore the necklace."

I stared at the party photos. I wasn't entirely convinced that Gisella was a master thief, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to have a conversation with her agent.

"Okay, first thing tomorrow, we'll question her."

"Question who?"

Mom, Mrs. Rosenblatt and I snapped our heads up in unison, all eyes pointed at the adjoining doorway where Ramirez's frame had suddenly appeared.

"Who are you going to question?" he repeated, stepping into the room.

"No one," I said quickly. Then gave Mom and Mrs. R serious psychic vibes to ix-nay on the estions-quay. "We're not questioning anyone."

"Okay." Ramirez narrowed his eyes. "Maybe I should rephrase. Who are we not questioning, then?"

I planted my hands on my hips. "How did you even get in here?" I asked.

"The door next door was open. This," he held up a red shopping bag with the word "Dior" on the side, "was wedged in the door jamb. And don't change the subject."

"Oops," Mrs. R said, taking the bag from his hand. She looked from Ramirez's narrowed eyes to my hands-on-hips. "Uh, maybe we ought to let you two alone."

She gestured to Mom, who quickly dumped the printouts into a "Hermes" bag and followed Mrs. Rosenblatt to the door. She gave me a quick co-conspiratorial wink and mouthed the words "call me" behind Ramirez's back as they slipped out.

Ramirez latched the door shut behind them before turning his cat-like slits of eyes on me. "Okay, you want to tell me what that was about now?"

I bit my lip. And shook my head.

Ramirez sat on the double bed beside me. Close beside me.

Despite our little standoff, I was suddenly reminded of how much I'd missed him.

"Maddie, I'm serious," he said. "You've got to let the police handle this."

"But the police think I did it."

He let out a long breath and rubbed at his temple. "I don't want you questioning anyone."

I opened my mouth to protest but he quickly put a hand over my lips and talked right over me.

"I don't want you nosing through anyone's stuff for some sort of non-existent evidence. I don't want you following anyone, spying on anyone, or impersonating anyone."

Wow. He knew me well.

"And most of all," he said, leaning in until the scent of his aftershave settled over my senses like a mellow fog. "Most of all, I don't want you anywhere near Felix Dunn again." He pulled his hand away from my mouth. "That guy is bad news. Every time you're around him, he gets you into trouble."

"Well, technically it was me that got him into trouble this time."

He gave me a look. "Promise me."

I took a deep breath of Ramirez scented air. And nodded.

He looked so relieved I almost felt guilty that I'd had my fingers crossed behind my back.

"Good," he said. "Oh, and one more thing?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "What now?"

His eyes crinkled at the corners, going all dark and warm as his face broke into a Big Bad Wolf grin – all teeth like he might eat me up at any second. "This."

He dipped his lips in to meet mine, his stubble tickling my cheek as his tongue brushed against my lower lip.

Instantly my mind went mush. The prison cell, Felix, Moreau, the whole mess the press was making of my life all disappeared as I leaned into his kiss, my lips melting under his. I closed my eyes as his arm wrapped around my middle, laying me back on the bed. In an instant, the hard planes of his body were covering mine. One hand dove into my hair, the other hiking up the hem of my skirt as his hips pressed into mine. I kissed him back. Hard. As I fumbled with the top button of his jeans. When I popped it open, he did a low growl thing in the back of his throat.

"It's been too long," he mumbled into my mouth.

"It's only been a couple of days."

He paused, then looked down at me, his eyes glazed over with a look that could only be described as pure lust. "Yeah, like I said, too long."

I laughed as he dove back in, his lips locking onto my throat, nibbling at my pulse in a way that made my body shiver from my head clear down to my toes. I wrapped one bare leg around his torso, navigating my gimp leg out of the way.

Ramirez looked down. "Can you have sex in that thing?" he asked, gesturing to Wonder Boot.

I felt a devilish grin of my own sliding across my face.

"We're about to find out."

I awoke to the sounds of room service carts being wheeled down the hallway outside my room. I gingerly opened one eye, then the next. It felt like I'd been asleep for days, my mouth full of that morning gym socks flavor. I turned over and looked at the digital numbers of the alarm clock. Seven fifteen.

"Mmmm," Ramirez moaned beside me. He rolled over, wrapping an arm round me and pulling me to him, spoon fashion. "Good morning, beautiful," he mumbled into my hair.

I grinned, wiping the sleep out of my eyes. "Yes. Yes it is."

"I had a dream about you last night," he said. He rubbed his pelvis against my bare tush, leaving very little to the imagination as to just what kind of dream I'd awakened him from.

"Was I good?" I joked.

"Oh yeah," he growled, his breath tickling my ear. I ducked, giggling.

"And just where do you think you're going?" he asked. He pulled me onto my back and sat up, straddling me. Then he slid one hand down my arm, twining his fingers with mine as he stared down at me.

"Police brutality," I teased, wiggling beneath him.

He just flashed me a wicked grin and raised his eyebrows suggestively. "You ain't seen nothing yet." He leaned in close, his eyes intent on my mouth.

"Halt!" I quickly covered my mouth with my free hand. "I have morning breath."

He chuckled. "Me too. Who cares?" He zoned in again.

"Gross. You may be cute, but I am so not kissing you with morning breath," I mumbled behind my hand.

He paused. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

He let out a deep sigh, then rolled back to his side of the bed. "I fly all the way to Paris just be denied by the morning breath."

I swatted at him, throwing my one good leg over the side of the bed and hopping to the bathroom. "Give me five minutes."

"Four!" he called as I shut the door.