Page 170 of The Chase
Why would our thief go for a Titian and not a Cezanne? Why would someone steal a painting already stolen? That clear pattern of it being a home targeted was broken when Christie’s had succumbed to the robbery ofSt. Joan.
Again, the thief had stolen only one painting when so many others were there.
Christie’s footage proved he’d been feet from a Renoir and a Gossaert and yet had only takenSt. Joan.
For me, personally, there was so much riding on that painting turning up. I hated my heart for telling me Tobias had anything to do with this.
After navigating his driveway, I parked my Rover near his front door and raised my gaze to see his helicopter perched on his roof. An impressive collection of Jags parked outside.
His home was lit up brightly. I made my way in—
Recognizing the music blaring from hidden speakers—“Weak”by Wet was playing, and I followed the sound of the singer’s dreamy lyrics.
This was how Tobias made me feel, weak, brought to my knees, and he’d told me he felt just as changed by me and that I’d even “unhinged his soul.”
The shattering of my own had begun.
If I’d learned anything it was we both kept our secrets close. Tobias and I were alike in so many ways. Caressing this ache in my chest, I tried to focus and act with nonchalance.
The aroma of cooking wafted through the house and smelled divine. I nudged open a door.
Tobias stood before a stove and he was stirring a spoon dipped in a large stainless steel pot.
His kitchen was homey with an Italian flair offsetting all the chrome and steel appliances.
He wore black trousers and a loose white T-shirt, and his hair was ruffled; his innocence radiating off him with the persuasion of beauty.
“I was worried when you didn’t answer.” He turned to look at me. “You hung up on me?”
“Call dropped.” I stepped in. “How did you know I was here?”
“Jade.” He rested the spoon by the side. “I wanted to surprise you with dinner.”
“I thought you can’t cook?”
He gestured to the open recipe. “It’s kind of fun. You inspire me.”
I came in farther. “Smells incredible.”
“I would have sent a car for you.”
“Needed time to think.”
“Come here.”
I walked quickly toward him and fell into his arms, my eyes closed and needing to be with him again, needing to feel what we had wasn’t lost.
That I was wrong.
There were too many facts addling my brain and the dots were too disjointed to join, too confusing and misguiding the truth from where it deserved to lie.
I peered up into his eyes, wishing the truth would just reveal itself.
“I’ve been working on this hug all day.” He pulled me tighter. “Worked up the schematics. Ran a software trial.” He squeezed me.
So safe, so nurturing, his cologne so damn sexy it muddled my brain.
“Refused to stop until I knew this hug was scientifically accurate,” he added. “And would garner satisfying results. The kind that would make you happy.”
