Cara Summers - Risking It All - The Proposition / The Dare / The Favour / The P.I. / The Cop / The Defender

She lifted the pot and refilled her cup. There were other things to consider. There had to be. For one thing, he thought she was Rachel Cade. She should tell him right now about the trick she’d pulled on him. But if she did, would he become annoyed and withdraw his offer?

Plus, she wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to give up being Rachel Cade.

The voice came then, pushing past the fears and doubts skulking around in her mind like a shadowy thief. “Trust in your talents.”

Chance chose that moment to take her hand in his and raise it to his lips. “What do you say, Rachel?”

It was Natalie who was dithering, and she knew in an instant what Rachel would say.

“What time do we leave?”

SHE HAD TO BE CRAZY, Natalie thought as she lifted the ten-pound weights that Chance had given her. He selected heavier ones for himself, then turned to face her.

“Do what I do,” he said as he raised his arms until they were level with his shoulders, held for a count of five and then lowered them.

She did. Although she’d told him that she was in good shape, he’d insisted on putting her to the test. The moment that she’d agreed to go with him to Florida, he’d told her that they were going to take a five-mile run through Rock Creek Park. He’d even bought her some shoes and workout clothes in one of the hotel’s gift shops.

When she’d asked why he was testing her, he’d merely said that he needed to make sure she could keep up with him if they had to make a run for it. The run had lasted well beyond five miles. After forty minutes she was still matching him stride for stride, and he’d been the one to call it quits.

Now they were using the hotel gym. It was located on the lobby level, and offered weight machines, tread-mills, free weights and a large pool that started indoors and ended outside. Four glass walls made the room about as private as a fishbowl.

Lifting the weights to her shoulders, she began to follow Chance’s lead through a combination of lunges and squats. When he finally set down his weights and took hers, he said, “You’re good.”

Her brows shot up. “I’m a cop, remember.”

“Not all cops stay in shape.” Then turning, he led the way to a mat. “Let’s see what you can do in hand-to-hand combat.”

For a moment she stared at him. “You’re serious?”

He smiled at her. “Unless you think you can’t take me.”

Unable to resist the challenge, she stepped onto the mat and began to circle slowly. He knew what buttons to push. She’d have to remember that and push a few of her own. He was bigger than she was and stronger. On the job when she’d had to use physical force, she’d always been able to play the looks-like-a-fragile-woman card. That wouldn’t work here. So her best option was distraction.

Keeping her eyes on his, she said, “What’s next? Target practice?”

He laughed, and she very nearly allowed herself to be distracted by the sound as she moved in and hooked her foot behind his. Once she had him off balance, she aimed her elbow at his stomach. An instant before it connected, she found her arms pinned to her side and before she could blink, she was lying beneath him, facedown on the mat.

While she struggled for a breath, she was vaguely aware of applause. But she was much more aware of Chance’s body pressing hers into the mat, of his voice in her ear. “You’ll have to work on your eyes. They give you away.”

She would work on that, she vowed as she got to her feet.

This time she let him make the move, and she blocked it.

“Good,” he said. “Now try this one.”

He moved fast as a snake, but she moved faster. He didn’t talk after that, and neither did she. She wasn’t even sure how much time had passed as he made one move after another and she attempted to block them. She lost count of how often she ended up pinned to the floor. But each time, he helped her to her feet and taught her the countermove that would have stopped him.

He was very good, better than any martial arts instructor she’d ever trained under. But she would have bitten her tongue out rather than tell him. Nor was she about to tell him that she’d never before responded to martial arts instruction like it was foreplay. Her mind might be calculating countermoves, but her body had become very sensitized to his touch. In the course of their workout, his forearms had brushed against her breasts. His hands had gripped her calves, her thighs, her hips. Twice when they’d rolled on the floor his leg had been between her thighs. When he finally called it quits and grinned at her, in spite of her annoyance, she wanted to jump him.

If there hadn’t been an audience with their noses pressed against the glass walls surrounding them, she might have. Instead, she smiled at him, shook his hand. As they walked together toward the shower rooms, she bided her time. When he was least expecting it, she gave him a quick shove into the pool.

Then with the applause of the spectators in her ears, she waited until he surfaced and grinned down at him. “Thanks for the tip about the eyes.”

“Anytime,” he said as he gripped the side of the pool. “I don’t suppose you want to give me a hand out of the pool.”

She grinned down at him. “Do I have the word Sucker written on my forehead?” Then she turned and walked away.

CARLO BRANCOTTI sat in his office, looking over the file that Lisa had just handed him. Sun streamed through the open French doors and a breeze from the ocean played with the wind chimes on the patio. When he finished reading Lisa’s report, he glanced up. “So—which one of these would a clever insurance investigator choose to impersonate?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t able to eliminate any of them.”

Carlo studied her for a moment. Lisa was a very cautious woman. He paid her to be just that. “Take an educated guess. If you wanted to trap Carlo Brancotti, which one of these people would you attempt to impersonate?”

She thought for a moment. “I’d choose Steven Bradford. But you don’t pay me for guessing.”

“Why Bradford?”

“I suppose because he’s so squeaky clean. He’s never entered this kind of a market before. Plus, he avoids the press. The only picture I was able to come up with was from his college days. If Interpol wanted to slip someone in, we’d be hard-pressed to see through the disguise.”

It wasn’t Interpol he was worried about. Carlo studied the picture of a thin young man with long, brownish-blond hair. Bradford would be twelve years older now, a man instead of a boy. The body would have filled out, the hairstyle changed.

“Good choice,” he murmured. Then he glanced at the photos of Steven Bradford’s current girlfriend.

She hadn’t been a model long. The one layout that Lisa had come up with featured a tall blonde modeling a bathing suit while playing volleyball. She was wearing sunglasses in each picture. He picked one up and studied it more closely. Steven Bradford was a lucky man. “What about the woman? This…” he paused to find the name, “Calli? The government doesn’t always send a male agent.”

Lisa frowned. “But you won’t invite her to the actual auction. She won’t have access to the diamond.”

True. Still, he wasn’t going to dismiss the possibility that the model known only as Calli wasn’t as harmless as she appeared. He was going to enjoy getting to know her better when she arrived. He picked up the next picture. “What about Armand Genovese?”

“He would be my second choice. He’s wearing a hat and sunglasses in every picture, so we can’t be sure what he looks like either. Also this is his first venture into the black market.”

Now Carlo smiled. “Only because he has other sources for stolen art and jewels. Ones that don’t always require top dollar.”