Tracy Wolff - Claimed

Six years ago he had kicked Isa Varin—now, apparently, Isabella Moreno—out of his life in the cruelest manner possible. He didn’t regret making her leave—how could he when she’d betrayed him so completely?—but in the time since, he had regretted how he’d done it. When he’d come to his senses and sent his driver to find her and deliver her things, including her purse and cell phone and some money, she had vanished into thin air. He’d looked for her for years, simply to assuage his conscience and prove to himself that nothing untoward had happened to her that night, but he’d never found her.

Now he knew why. The very passionate, very beautiful, very bewitching Isa Varin had ceased to exist. In her place was this buttoned-down professor, her voice and face as cool and sharp as any diamond his mines had ever produced. Only the hair—that glorious, red hair—was the same. Isabella Moreno wore it in a tight braid down her back instead of in the wild curls favored by his Isa, but he would know the color anywhere.

Black cherries at midnight.

Wet garnets shining in the filtered light of a full moon.

And when her eyes had met his over the heads of her students, he’d felt a punch in his gut—in his groin—that couldn’t be denied. Only Isa had ever made his body react so powerfully. So instantaneously.

He’d ditched the GIA president as soon as he could, then had rushed back to make sure he caught Isa before she could slip away. And still he’d almost missed her. Not that he was surprised. She did come from a long line of cat burglars, after all. He knew from experience that nine times out of ten, if she didn’t want to be caught, she wouldn’t be.

As he waited for her to speak, he couldn’t help wondering what he was doing here. Why he’d caught up with her. What he wanted from her. Because the truth was, he didn’t know. He knew only that seeing her, talking to her, was a compulsion he couldn’t resist.

“Hello, Marc.” She raised her face to his, her voice and countenance as composed as he had ever seen them. He felt a brief lick of something deep inside—a feeling that made him uncomfortable for the simple reason that he couldn’t identify it. So he ignored it, concentrating instead on her as their gazes met in a clash of heat and memories.

One look into her eyes—dark, endless pools of melted chocolate—used to bring him to his knees. But those days were long gone. Her betrayal had destroyed any faith he might have had in her. He’d been weak once, had fallen for the innocence she could project with a look, a touch, a whisper. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. He would satisfy his curiosity, find out why she was at GIA, and then he would walk away.

As he stared down at her, those same eyes were alive with so many emotions he couldn’t begin to sort them all out. Her face could be as unemotional as she wanted it to be, her body as ice-cold as it had once been fiery-hot, but her eyes didn’t lie. Isa was as disturbed by this chance meeting as he was.

The realization had something relaxing deep inside him and he felt the power shift sizzle in the air around them. She’d once had the upper hand in their relationship because he’d trusted her blindly, loved her so deeply that he had never conceived that she would one day betray him.

But those days were long gone. Isa could pretend to be the straitlaced, boring gem professor all she wanted. He knew the truth and he would never be stupid enough to let his guard down around her again.

“Hello, Isabella.” He made certain his face showed only sardonic amusement. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes, well, I go where the jewels are.”

“Don’t I know it?” Deliberately he glanced at the wall across from them, where one of the most expensive opal necklaces ever created was displayed behind glass. “The president tells me you’ve been teaching here three years. Yet there’ve been no heists. You must be slipping.”

Her eyes flashed furiously, but her voice was controlled when she answered, “I’m a member of the GIA faculty. Helping to ensure the safety of every gem on this campus falls in my job description.”

“And we all know how seriously you take your job...and your loyalties.”

The mask cracked and he got a glimpse of her fury before she shored her defenses back up. “Is there something you need, Marc?” She glanced pointedly at his hand, which was still wrapped tightly around her elbow.

“I thought we could catch up. For old times’ sake.”

“Yes, well, it turns out the old times weren’t all that good. So, if you’ll excuse me—” She started to wrest her elbow from his grasp, but he tightened his fingers. Despite the anger that ran through him like molten lava at her words, he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet.

“I don’t excuse you.” He put a wealth of meaning behind those four words, and saw with satisfaction that she hadn’t missed his point.

“I’m sorry to hear that. But I’ve got an appointment in half an hour. I don’t want to be late.”

“Yeah, I hear fences take exception to lateness.”

This time the cool facade did more than crack. She shoved against his chest with one hand at the same time she wrenched her elbow from his grasp. “Six years ago I put up with all your vile insinuations and accusations because I felt like I deserved them. But that was a long time ago and I’m done now. I have a new life—”

“And a new name.”

“Yes.” She eyed him warily. “I needed distance.”

“That’s not the way I remember it.” She’d chosen her father over him, even after the old man had stolen from him. It wasn’t a slight Marc had any intention of forgetting.

“No surprise there.”

The insult—in her words and her tone—had him narrowing his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounded like. I’m not big on subterfuge.”

Though it made him sound like an arrogant ass, he couldn’t help throwing her words back at her. “Again, that’s not the way I remember it.”

“Of course not.” She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “Then again, you’ve always been more about perception than truth. Right, Marc?”

He hadn’t thought it was possible for him to get any angrier. Not when his stomach already churned with it, his jaw aching from how tightly he was clenching his teeth. Then again, she’d always brought out strong emotions in him. At one time, they’d even been good emotions.

Those days were long gone, though, and he wouldn’t let her drag him back there. The Marc who had loved Isa Varin had been a weak fool—something he’d sworn he’d never be again as he’d watched security escort her from his building.

“That seems an awful lot like the pot calling the kettle black, Isabella.” He put added emphasis on her new name, could see by the darkening of her eyes that the irony wasn’t lost on her.

“On that note, I think it’s time for me to leave.” She started to step around him, but he blocked her path. He didn’t know what was driving him, only that he wasn’t ready to watch her walk away from him again. Not when she looked so cool and collected and he felt...anything but. And not now that he’d finally found her.

“Running away?” he taunted. “Why am I not surprised? It does run in the family, after all.”

For a second, hurt flashed in her eyes. But it was gone so fast he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t imagined it. And still, a little seed of guilt lingered. At least until she said, “Whatever you’re doing here, whatever you think you’re going to get, isn’t going to happen. You need to get out of my way, Marc.”

It was an ultimatum, for all that it was said in a polite tone. He’d never been one to respond well to such things. Still, her fire excited him, turned him on, as nothing had in six long years. His reaction pissed him off, but he’d be damned before he let her see that. Not when she was there, in front of him, when he’d been so certain he would never see her again. He wasn’t ready to let her walk out of his life for another six years, not when he still had so many unanswered questions. And not when he still wanted her so badly that every muscle in his body ached with it.