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

“True. Which makes it a little surprising for him to contact you. Perhaps because of his methods of acquisition he’s made a deal with the government.”

“Good point.” This was precisely why he paid Lisa McGill a very good salary. She had a razor-sharp mind as well as a knack for computers and research.

For the first time since she’d come into the room, Lisa relaxed slightly. “Thank you, sir.”

Carlo turned his attention to the third photo. When it had been taken, Risa Manwaring had been the toast of Hollywood. That had been at least twenty-five years ago. “And why might a very clever insurance agent choose to impersonate Risa Manwaring?”

“Because once she married that British lord, she shunned the press, so no telling what she looks like now. And as you said yourself, the government doesn’t always send a male agent.”

“True. Good work, Lisa,” Carlo said as he slipped the file into a drawer and locked it.

“Thank you, sir.”

“When Bradford arrives, we’ll put him in the Venetian room. That way we can keep very close tabs on him. Signore Genovese will stay in the Tuscan room, and Ms. Manwaring in the Neopolitan room. Make sure that all three rooms are wired and that the security cameras in the walls are well hidden.”

“I’ll see to it myself, sir.”

When Lisa left the room, Carlo rose from his desk and turned to the painting that hung behind him. After moving it aside, he opened his safe and took out two velvet pouches. One was red and the other was black. After setting them on his desk, he removed a diamond from each pouch, then carried them out through the French doors to his patio. It was early, not yet eight o’clock, but the sun was pouring directly into the courtyard. It shot light into both stones and the facets in each captured that light and seemed to glow from within.

Both were a rare shade of canary-yellow, and only one of them was real—the Ferrante diamond. The other was a very carefully crafted fake. Only a skilled gemologist would be able to tell the difference.

Carlo smiled as he looked down at them. He would use them both to set a trap for “Chance Mitchell.” There was nothing that he enjoyed more than a game of cat and mouse with a worthy opponent.

Too bad that he would have to end the game for good this time.

BY THE TIME Natalie arrived at the Blue Pepper, second thoughts were attacking with a vengeance. Not that the “Rachel Cade” part of her was having any. No, it was good old Natalie who’d called her sisters for an emergency meeting. She’d told Chance she had to talk to her “cousins” and inform them of her change in plans.

The restaurant was crowded. And the number of patrons, more than the quick glance she gave her watch, told her that she was running more than half an hour late. And she was never late. At least Natalie wasn’t ever late. Plus, she was exhausted. Both conditions, she blamed completely on Chance Mitchell.

During a long, grueling day of cramming, shopping and packing, she’d discovered a whole new side to the man—one that made her think of Simon LaGree. Not in a million years would she have suspected that the laid-back man she’d known as Chance Mitchell would turn into such a taskmaster.

The run in Rock Creek Park and the workout had just been the beginning. When she’d passed those little tests, he’d dragged her back to his room at the Meridian to study. He hadn’t been satisfied until she’d known everything there was to know about Carlo Brancotti.

He’d even quizzed her. Of course, she’d passed. She prided herself on her sharp memory.

Brancotti wasn’t the only name he’d ever used. There were at least half a dozen other aliases, and the man hadn’t limited his dealings to art and jewels. Over the years, he’d trafficked in just about every black market commodity he could lay his hands on, including drugs and arms. Brancotti’s trademark as a jewel thief was leaving a high quality fake jewel in place of the real one, and usually by the time the theft was discovered the trail was cold.

By the end of the cramming session, the cop part of her had known that she hadn’t made a mistake in agreeing to Chance’s proposition.

It was the feminine part of her that was having second thoughts. Pushing past the crowd clustered around the hostess station, she scanned the restaurant and spotted her sisters seated at a small table on the upper level. They were looking in her direction, but when she waved, they didn’t seem to see her.

Of course, they were looking for Rachel Cade. And she wasn’t Rachel anymore. Thanks to Chance Mitchell, she’d been transformed into “Calli,” a wannabe supermodel who’d been cohabiting with software billionaire Steven Bradford for the past six months.

“Welcome to the Blue Pepper.”

Natalie glanced down to see that Rad had suddenly appeared in her path. “Hi.” Though she smiled at him, he didn’t grab her hands or kiss the air near her cheeks. The disguise must be working with him, too. But then he wasn’t looking at her face. His eyes were riveted on the skinny tank top she was wearing.

“Oh my, oh my, oh my.” He pressed a hand to his heart as he stepped back to run his eyes down her. “Oh my, oh my, oh my.”

Several people turned to stare, and Natalie glanced down, praying that everything about the skimpy outfit she was wearing was still in place. Both the pink shorts and top were cut high, leaving plenty of leg and stomach bare. She tugged the edge of the shorts down a bit, hoping there wasn’t anything showing that might get her ticketed for indecent exposure.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. You are perfection! The hair, the shoes. And that color is soooooo you!” Rad clapped his hands together. “I have a friend who should be wearing this color. I’ve told her over and over to think pink.”

As Rad began to circle her, she caught a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrored columns that flanked the bar.

She had to hand it to Chance. It was the perfect outfit for her new alter ego. The hair, the earrings that fell to just above her shoulders, even the ankle-breaking sandals suited “Calli” to a T, and the whole package together sent out a promise of hot, steamy sex.

Rad had completed his circle, and he was facing her now. “Love the hair! Where did you get that cut?”

Beginning to enjoy herself, Natalie tucked a curl behind her ear as she leaned down to whisper. “Arturo at the Meridian.”

“He is an artist!”

“Thanks. I’m looking for the Gibbs sisters.”

“Wonderful! Then you’ll get to meet my friend, Detective Natalie. She’s not here yet,” he said as he began to cut a path through the crowd for her. “You must tell her about Arturo.”

Natalie recalled that Chance had slipped Arturo an enormously large tip to layer her hair and pile on the products until it looked like she’d just got out of bed with a man. But she hadn’t gotten a chance to see if she could achieve the look naturally by doing just that. Chance, the taskmaster, hadn’t made a move on her since she’d agreed to work with him on the Brancotti job.

There hadn’t been much time, of course. Still, the change in him had started her thinking. Had he gotten his fill of Rachel Cade in one night just as he seemed to have gotten his fill of Natalie?

Would the same fate await Calli?

As they reached the stairs, she shot a quick look over her shoulder and caught her reflection again in the mirror. Calli might have something to say about that. Rachel definitely would. Perhaps the two women would have to tag-team him. A quick laugh bubbled up at the direction her thoughts had taken. On her own, she would never have come up with that idea. She was beginning to enjoy the different persons she was discovering within herself.