Shimmy Bang Sparkle(50)
She paused with her fingertips pressing into my right pec. I slid my hand underneath the high waist of her nylons so I was touching her bare skin. And gave her a little pinch.
She let her knees slide farther apart and said, “I’ll cleave it myself, and poof.” She snapped her fingers. “No North Star, no evidence. Just a handful of rough-cut stones for us to use as we see fit.”
Cleaving the stone herself knocked out another variable—a jeweler. It was good thinking. But from where I was, at thirty thousand feet, all I could see was all the shit that could go wrong, all the permutations that ended with cops and cuffs. “Worst-case scenario: you’re too nervous to pick the locks on the adjoining doors. What then?”
Wetting her lips, she almost glared at me. Almost mad. On the edge. “I’ll be able to focus. I can always focus.”
“But if you can’t? Or if the adjoining room is a no-go? What’s the plan to get through the hallway door?”
“We’ll take a master key.”
“What about the chain lock?”
The way she responded was defensive—flaring her nostrils, tilting her head away, and putting one hand to her chest. It told me I’d hit a weak spot in her plan. She didn’t know how to answer, and she was pissed she hadn’t thought of it. And two, she didn’t like being challenged. Of course she didn’t; neither did I. But right now, the third degree was necessary. I was going to press her until she saw she needed to think this through. God knew I wanted to press her.
I held on to her ass and pulled her closer. I slipped off her shoes and tossed them across the room. Then I reached up and brought her down to me for a kiss. When I had her deep into it, I made my move and slipped my wallet out of her pocket. When I let her go, I dangled it out in front of her. “Nice try.”
She tried to snatch it back from me, but I was quicker and bigger and kept it just out of her grasp. Her eyes were full of challenge, mischief, and heat. I tossed my wallet aside and cupped her jaw to make her look at me. And then I looked her right in the eye and leveled with her. “I know you don’t want help, but I think you could use it.”
She planted her hand on my chest and shook her head. “Nice try yourself. You’re not getting in on my job, Nick.”
Fucking A, the last thing I needed was to get involved in stealing an infamous diamond from the Ritz Goddamned Carlton. But there was something bigger at play here—her safety, her security. “I don’t want in on your job,” I said as I reached up and began undoing her uniform buttons. “But you need to think this through. And I can help you do that.”
She didn’t answer me at first, but instead silently watched me undress her, each undone button revealing a little more of that soft, silky skin. I slipped the top part of her dress over her shoulders and arms. Straight-up, I didn’t want to get tangled up in this heist. But even more straight-up, I wanted to protect her . . . even if it was from herself. That wasn’t a new-me thing, and it wasn’t an old-me thing. It was the fucking honorable thing. “Let me get you to where you need to be on the locks, at least. OK?”
Still she didn’t answer. She took off the wig and let her long dark hair fall over her shoulders.
I knew I was right. But I couldn’t tell what was going on behind those beautiful blue eyes until finally, after a few minutes, she said, very softly, “Maybe.”
It wasn’t a yes. But it wasn’t a no either. And that was good enough for me.
23
STELLA
A noise startled me awake, and I looked around my room, blinking against the stripes of sunshine blazing in from between the blinds. I tapped my phone and saw that it was half past nine. My heart dropped when I noticed that Nick’s clothes were gone. I pressed my hand to the side of the bed where he’d slept and found the mattress was cold. But there, tucked under his pillow, was the receipt that had been stapled to our takeout order, slightly crumpled. On the back, he’d written, Be back soon, cutie. Text when you wake up.
A knock at the door broke up my thoughts and made my heart bounce around in my chest like a rubber ball. It must have been what woke me, I realized. Clutching his note with its strong, firm writing, I untangled myself from the sheets to go answer the door. The knocks were serious and aggressive. “Who is it!” I said, cinching my bathrobe tightly around me.
“Locksmith, Ms. Peretti. Your super told us there was a problem.”
I peered through the peephole. At first, all I saw was the bill and front of a well-worn trucker-style hat, stylishly bent at the brim. A faded logo that looked like some sort of beaver or bear was in the middle. I didn’t recognize the hat, but scanning the little fish-eye image in front of my eye I realized I did recognize those tattoos. It was Nick. As if he could feel my eyes on him, he lifted his head and winked at me.
I flung the door open. “Well, hello there.”
“Morning, gorgeous.” His voice was gruff and low. Morning voice. Good God, I was such a sucker for morning voice. With a sexy lift of his chin, he handed over a paper tray with two coffees and a waxed bag in the middle. He nudged his hat up his forehead an inch and leaned in to give me a kiss as I shut the door. Over his shoulder was a tool bag, full of all sorts of drills and special wrenches.
“Should I make a dirty workman joke now or should I wait?”
He did a sort of manly cough to cover his laugh and took one of the coffees off the tray. I opened up the waxed bag and inside found a pair of still-warm chocolate croissants. I bit into mine, and Nick took a sip of his coffee. “I told you I was going to help you with the locks. Better to re-create the scene here than get our asses busted at La Quinta or wherever.”