Page 6 of Rapture's Edge (Night Prowler 3)
He came up behind her and stood looking down over her shoulder. Had the cylinder contained the Holy Ghost itself, he would not have been more stunned. “The Card Players,” he whispered.
“I know you’re partial to Picasso, but this Cézanne spoke to me,” she murmured. One finger of her gloved hand reverently traced the frayed edge of the old canvas. “Intense, isn’t it?”
“This was sold to a private collector in Qatar last year,” he said, still stunned. “How did you get it?”
Her head turned a fraction, and he saw the glint of mischief in her eyes as she gazed up at him. He smiled, feeling his insides soften under the warmth of her look.
“The Cat has her ways, eh, princess?”
“She does indeed, Mr. MacGregor.” Moving away to take a seat on the other side of the desk, Eliana settled herself in the chair, folded her hands in her lap, and said, “Can you sell it?”
“Can I sell it?” He raised his brows
in mock indignation. “Is the pope Polish?”
She blinked, bemused. “No. But I’ll take that as a yes.”
Gregor sat in his comfortable chair and beamed at her. “You bet your biscuits I can sell it, princess! Same terms?”
She smiled. “Ten percent. Agreed.” Her smile faltered, and for a moment that old sorrow welled to the surface again. “However…I’d like to take the ten in trade this time.”
Gregor was intrigued. “Trade for what?”
She tucked her hand into the pocket of her coat and from it pulled a piece of paper, carefully folded. She leaned across the desk and handed it to him without a word.
Curious, he unfolded the note. When he read its contents, he was even more shocked than moments before. “Eliana. What the hell are you going to do with this many guns?”
Utterly composed, that terrible sadness still lurking behind her little smile, she quietly said, “What people always do with guns, Gregor.”
They gazed at each other. Outside in the cold, winter Paris night, it began softly to rain.
“And the rest of it?” He peered at the list. “Rocket-propelled grenades? Smoke bombs?” He looked up at her again, incredulous. “Land mines?”
She exhaled a long, slow breath and looked away. She removed her gloves, finger by finger, and ran a hand through her thick, twilight-hued hair. He noticed for perhaps the millionth time that she never wore makeup, but he’d never seen anyone who needed it less. Like a firefly, the woman actually glowed.
“Wars can’t be fought with sticks and stones.”
Gregor jerked forward in his chair, really alarmed now. “Wars? Who you going to war with, princess?”
She remained silent, gazing at him now with rebuke. There were questions they didn’t ask each other, information that was never exchanged, and they both knew he’d just violated that inviolable rule. But dammit, this was different! If she was in trouble—the kind of trouble that required this much heavy artillery—he wanted to help. He needed to.
“Let me help you. Whatever this is about, I can help.”
Her answer was swift, cool, and unequivocal. “No.”
Outside, the rain picked up. It began to beat against the windows in staccato bursts, smearing the city beyond into plots of wavering black and yellow.
“I don’t like it,” Gregor declared and tossed the note onto his desk.
Eliana didn’t even blink. “You’re a businessman. This is business. You might not like it, but you’ll do it.” Her head tilted to the side in a birdlike motion he’d seen a million times before when she was puzzling something out, and he knew that something now was him. When she spoke again her voice had softened to the consistency of warmed butter, and he knew she had his number: flattery and female helplessness were a potent combination for him, even if both were patently insincere. “Won’t you, old friend? For me?”
“Stop trying to dazzle me, Eliana, this is serious!” Truly aggravated now, he leapt from the chair and began to pace behind it.
“Why are you lecturing me, Gregor?” she said, harder now. “If I were a man, would you even hesitate?”
He swung around and stared at her. His gaze swept the lovely landscape of her body, her bare crossed legs, the perfect oval of her face. “You’re not a man. Obviously.”
By the way her face flushed and she stiffened, Gregor knew he’d offended her. At last, we’re getting somewhere, he thought. Maybe that wall would come down after all.
