Page 46 of A Man for Amanda
“William? Well, of course I’m going to see him.”
“No.” He tugged her closer. “You’re not.”
The dangerous light in his eyes set off one in her own. “I just told you you weren’t going to take over my life.”
“I don’t give a damn what you told me. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you waltz out of my bed and on to a date with another man.”
With a little huff, she pulled her arm free. “You don’tletme do anything. Get that straight. Next, it isn’t a date. William Livingston is an antiques dealer and I promised him I would show him through The Towers. He gets a busman’s holiday, and I get a free assessment. Now move.” She shoved past and headed for the shower. Muttering all the way, she slipped off the robe. She’d just finished adjusting the water temperature, stepping in and shutting the curtain when it was yanked open again.
“Damn it, Sloan!” She slicked the wet hair out of her eyes and glared.
“He’s an antiques dealer?”
“That’s what I said.”
“And he wants to look at furniture?”
“Exactly.”
He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “I’m going with you.”
“Fine.” With a careless shrug, she picked up the soap and began to lather her shoulders. “Be a possessive bubblehead.”
“Okay.”
Telling herself she wasn’t amused, she glanced over to see him pulling off his shirt. “What are you doing?”
Grinning, he tossed it aside. “I’ll give you three guesses. A sharp lady like you should get it in one.”
She bit back a chuckle as he unsnapped his jeans. “I don’t have time for water games right now.”
“Oh, I think we can sneak it in just under the wire.”
“Maybe.” She squeezed the wet soap between her hands and shot it at him, nodding approval when he caught it, chest high. “If you wash my back first.”
Before stepping from his car, Livingston checked his microrecorder and the tiny camera in his pocket. He was very fond of technology and felt that the sophisticated equipment lent an air of elegance to the job. Since the moment he’d read about the Calhoun emeralds, he’d been obsessed by them, more than any other jewels he’d stolen in his long career. He was considered by Interpol, and indeed by himself, to be one of the most clever and elusive thieves on two continents.
The emeralds presented a challenge he couldn’t resist. They weren’t tucked in a vault or displayed in a museum. They weren’t adorning some rich matron’s neck. They were lying in wait somewhere in the odd old house, daring someone to find them. He intended to be that someone.
Though he wasn’t opposed to employing violence in his work, he used it sparingly. He was sorry he’d had to use it on Amanda the day before, but he was much sorrier that she’d interrupted his search.
His own fault, he chided himself as he walked to the front door of The Towers. He’d been impatient and had decided that the wedding would be the perfect diversion, giving him the time and the privacy he required to case the interior of the house. Today, however, he would wander those rooms as a guest.
He might have been a thief from the South Side of Chicago, but when he put on a two-thousand-dollar suit, a trace of a British accent and polished manners, even the most discriminating invited him into their parlors.
He knocked and waited. The barking of the dog answered first, and Livingston’s eyes hardened. He detested dogs, and the little bugger inside had nearly nipped him before he’d managed to give it a dose of phenobarbital.
When Coco answered the door, Livingston’s eyes were clear and his charming smile already in place.
“Mr. Livingston, how nice to see you again.” Coco started to offer a hand, then found it more judicious to grasp Fred’s collar before the dog could leap at the man’s calf. “Fred, stop that now. Mind your manners.” Holding the snarling dog at bay, Coco offered a weak smile. “He really is a very gentle animal. He never acts like this, but he had an incident yesterday and isn’t himself.” After gathering Fred into her arms, she called for Lilah. “Let’s go into the parlor, shall we?”
“I hope I’m not intruding on your Sunday, Mrs. McPike. I couldn’t resist persuading Amanda to show me through your fascinating house.”
“We’re delighted to have you.” Though she was becoming more disconcerted by the moment as Fred continued to snarl and snap. “Amanda’s not here yet, though I can’t think what’s keeping her. She’s always so prompt.”
Lilah gave a half laugh as she came down the steps. “I can think exactly what’s keeping her.” There was no humor in her eyes as she studied their guest. “Hello again, Mr. Livingston.”
“Miss Calhoun.” He didn’t care for the way she looked at him, as though she could see straight through the slick outer trappings to the ruthlessness inside.
