Marilyn Pappano - Nights With A Thief

While valets went to retrieve their vehicles, Lisette tugged her arm from his grasp. “As I said before, thank you for the assistance.”

He pushed his hands into his pockets and studied her. “What did you take?”

No shifts in expression gave her away. She simply smiled and extended her arms out from her sides. “Do I look like I’m hiding something?”

His gaze slid over her with fine appreciation. “No. But appearances can be deceiving. And I’m pretty sure you weren’t crawling around that balcony just for the feel of the stone against your skin.”

The valet with her car returned first, saving her from a reply. There was no sign of the other valet with Jack’s rental, meaning she would have at least a couple minutes’ head start. “It’s been an experience,” she said, stepping away as the car stopped at the curb.

“I’ll see you again, Bella.”

She murmured something, then pulled a bill from nowhere to tip the valet. She gave Jack one last smile, the loveliest, sexiest, most beguiling of all, before getting into the car and driving away.

He hadn’t planned to let her go so easily, but plans changed. He knew the name she was using, and he knew where she was working for the moment. He would find her again.

Chapter 2

Certain she hadn’t been followed, Lisette drove to the only home she’d ever known. She’d taken her first steps on its floors, eaten baby food at the kitchen table, screamed through too many baths to count in the claw-foot tub. Marley had loved the small house, and because of that, Lisette did, too.

Padma’s car was parked in the driveway; Lisette pulled in beside it. Shivering in the chill air, she hustled up the side steps to the porch. As she reached out with her key, the door swung open and Padma ushered her inside. “No one followed you.”

That used to be Marley’s line, never a question because she’d taught them better. “Nobody.”

“Not even Prince Charming?” Padma screwed up her face in disappointment. If Prince—Jack didn’t track down Lisette tomorrow, they had a plan B and C for dealing with that, too.

“You got the painting back safe?”

“Of course. Was the party fabulous?”

“Obscenely expensive champagne, priceless antiques, fortunes in jewels, the rich and the filthy rich.” Lisette shrugged, and the shimmer of her gown made her long for her usual evening outfit of shorts and T-shirt.

“You look so gorgeous. I can’t believe the men left you alone long enough to steal Shepherdess. That dress is incredible, and the shoes—! Damn you for being a size bigger than me.”

Two glasses of yogurt-milk-mango lassi sat on the coffee table, along with a plate of gulab jamun, a deep-fried sweet that smelled delicately of rose water. “When was your mom here?”

“She got here right after me. You know, I could learn to cook my family’s traditional dishes, but then who would Mommy cook for on chilly winter nights?”

Lisette snorted. Mommy, better known as Dr. Laksha Khatri, was a bioengineer at the University of Colorado Denver, and she was happy enough cooking for Daddy, Sandesh, a gastroenterologist, who was usually trying to diet. “I’m sure Dr. Mom would find something else to occupy her time, like, I don’t know, cloning a human or something.”

“Could come in handy in our line of work.” Padma helped herself to dessert, then drew her feet onto the couch. She wore comfy clothes, all in black, and a sturdy pair of black boots were kicked off nearby. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, and her jewelry—necklace, earrings, bracelet, watchband—was all black in deference to the job. You don’t know how hard it is for this Indian girl to give up her gold, she lamented on a regular basis.

Lisette tasted the gulab jamun and sighed. “It’s settled. Your mom can never leave Denver for more than a couple weeks at a time. I couldn’t survive longer than that without her cooking.”

“She’ll be pleased you said so.”

Lisette had been saying so most of their lives. The Khatris had been her and Marley’s only family. Even though Padma’s mom had worked, she’d always made time for two curious little girls. She was a dark-eyed woman with a ready laugh and enough love for a dozen daughters, and she’d generously showered Lisette with it.

Had the good doctor known she was pampering the daughter of a criminal? When she’d given the girls her regular empowerment talks, telling them to find a career they loved and dedicate themselves to it with passion, to soar into the heavens with it, had she ever suspected that career would be stealing back previously stolen treasures?

“I did some checking,” Padma said, wiping her fingers on a napkin. “Jack is staying at Air. You know, that gorgeous old mansion turned trendy boutique hotel for the super-rich?”

“Air? Seriously? What did they name the restaurant? Water?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Padma paused for effect. “Water’s the spa. The restaurant is Fire, the bar is Spirit, and the grounds are Earth.” If she was kidding, her eyes would dance and the corners of her lips would twitch for the seconds it took her laugh to escape. None of that happened, though, which made Lisette shudder.

If she had that kind of money to invest in a getaway, the inn would be named Inn, with a crudely carved arrow pointing the way to Eat. The beach would require no sign because it would lie fifty paces from her hammock.

“It’s insane,” Padma went on. “Remember when we used to go there? It was so crazy perfect for its time period, but now everything’s all very minimalist. Do you think that’s the kind of place he prefers? Do you think he’s done that to his home on the island?”

“I hope I get a chance to find out.” Lisette spoke without so much as a twinge in her stomach. She’d long ago dealt with the fact that this plan—

A fool’s plan, Marley reminded her.

—meant Lisette would almost certainly find herself getting intimate with Jack Sinclair. Her mother had made such a big deal of it—

It is a big deal!

—but women had sex with men for a thousand reasons, and gaining access to Île des Deux Saints and Le Mystère was the best reason Lisette could imagine.

Besides, he was damn good-looking, too.

“Maybe he just likes staying at $3,000-a-night hotels,” Padma said with a sigh. “I’d like to live like that for a while, to know what it’s like to have the best of everything.”

“Aw, if you had that kind of money, you’d spend it saving the world.”

“Schools, water-treatment centers, clinics, sustainable growth.” Padma sighed again. Those were her passions. When she wasn’t handling electronics on their job, she used her environmental engineering degree to supply clean water around the world. It completed her in the way that returning a person’s lost property completed Lisette.

Padma abruptly swung her feet to the floor. “Come see it. Take your time appreciating it because we have an appointment to return it tomorrow afternoon.”

Lisette followed her into the dining room, where candlesticks and a vase holding a bouquet of flowers had been moved to the sideboard next to a tea set. Padma motioned that way. “The red is in the sugar bowl. And Shepherdess...”

The painting was unrolled in the center of the table, lit by the dozen small bulbs in the chandelier. It was still amazing—still gave Lisette a shiver. She studied it, her fingers itching to mimic the strokes, the colors. Mimic was all she could do. Her talent lay in stealing art, not creating it.

Tomorrow they would return it to a house like this on the other side of town. It would be lovely if Mrs. Maier could hang it in the bedroom once again, but losing a piece once made people cautious. Their recovered treasures usually went into a safe or a safe-deposit box or on loan to a museum. After all, if someone had stolen it once, then precautions must be taken to stop it from happening again.