Page 73 of Thief

I hope you find your peace my love.

Thief xxx

Six weeks later

Sprawled on a luxurious cushioned sun lounger in St Tropez, Kat revelled in the solar warmth seeping into every pore of her body. Stretching, she woke from yet another doze and pointed her toes towards the stone wall of her balcony, beyond which the Mediterranean lapped. She flopped her arms over her head towards her exclusive five-star, top floor suite.

Mr. R. W. Robinson had been a godsend. Who’d have thought he’d have gone so long without noticing the American Express at the back of his wallet was missing? He’d seemed pretty dozy when she’d had a drink with him, but now, she knew how really dense he’d been. But she’d take a leaf from John’s book and wouldn’t push her luck. Another few days and she’d find another credit card, another hotel, maybe even another town.

But for now, she’d enjoy. Perhaps she’d even take a dip in the crystal clear pool later, leave the sanctuary of her private balcony and wander through the lush gardens and tropical vegetation. Meander over the bamboo bridges spanning ponds heaving with giant goldfish and cool off before the evening began and she searched out a fresh fish for supper in the beachside restaurant.

She reached for a tall glass and slurped through the curled straw. It tasted heavenly, fresh and sweetly sharp. She’d acquired a real taste for it lately. Lemon iced tea. She set it back down on the table and reached for her music, headphones and the photo she’d found herself increasingly drawn to over the last week.

She couldn’t make out much of him, just his bottom lip covering hers and the stubble on his cheek—the colour of volcanic sand. His blurred forearm holding the camera blocked most of the view, but there was something about the way his lip was pressed a fraction below hers, devouring, owning, and the way her neck had arched eagerly to greet his mouth. It was a highly erotic, sensual picture if you happened to have been there when it was taken.

It was the only one he’d left her.

He’d taken the others.

She placed it by her side and dropped her shades over her eyes.

When she’d awoken alone in her apartment and found the diamonds replaced with rice, she’d accepted her fate with less anger than she’d expected. She’d quickly packed her bags and headed for Heathrow, catching the first flight she could to somewhere hot, which happened to be St Tropez.

She’d written John a letter as her heart had torn in two on the plane. Sent it to his home address as soon as she’d landed before she’d changed her mind. But she didn’t think John would have ventured back to his apartment. He would have used the diamonds to get a fabulous lifestyle somewhere else. The millionaire extravagances he’d talked about. He’d be in the Caribbean or the Indian Ocean being handfed grapes by a gaggle of gorgeous girls. She could picture him now, a contented smile on his face, a large whisky in his hand and a week’s worth of growth on his chin.

Slotting the small black headphones into her ears, she hit her favourite tune and reached for coconut sunblock to apply to her exposed nipples. She teased them to hard, balmed points then nestled back onto the soft white towel beneath her. She ran her palm over her flat, bronzed belly and a ghost of a smile caught her lips.

The first member of her family she would ever meet was at this moment no bigger than a tadpole. Buried deep and safe, growing and developing each day.

It had been a shock a week ago when eating in a restaurant to realise she was late. She was normally like clockwork, and an over-the-counter pregnancy test confirmed what she’d already known. Feeling faint with shock and delirious with happiness, she’d been unable to contain her excitement ever since.

Without a doubt it was John’s baby. It was the only possibility. The dates were perfect. She’d always been careful to use condoms in her professional life, but that week, that magical week when she wasn’t alone, all thoughts of contraception had gone out of the window. Completely. Neither of them had even mentioned it. Lust and desire had taken over. She’d been so intoxicated by the incredible feelings she was experiencing there’d been plenty of opportunities for a new life to be created totally unhindered by the presence of a condom.

For the first time ever, she had a piece of news she didn’t want to keep to herself. It would feel more real if she told John. Whether or not he’d be pleased, indifferent or furious, she had no idea. But just the same, she wanted him to know about their baby.

But going back to John’s apartment now was impossible. London was Carlos’s territory. She recalled what he’d said about John having a bounty on his head. There’d be one on hers too—a hefty one—and it wasn’t a gamble she was prepared to take. Carlos wasn’t a problem for John, but for her, it was too much of a risk, especially now she was responsible for another life.

She closed her eyes to the glare of the sun and, once again, remembered their last wild sex session. It had been so intimate, so full of trust. So frenzied one minute and so magical and gentle the next. Was that when their baby had been conceived?

She liked to think so.

Suddenly, a cool shadow clouded the skin on her cheeks. A big hand clasped over her face covering her sunglasses and forehead, keeping her held tight against the sun lounger. “What the…” Desperately, she flicked her eyes open but could see only a tiny crack of light through the gaps of huge fingers over the lenses.

“Hi, Pussy Cat,” came a low rough voice.

She gasped and pushed forward through the resistance. The hand fell away as soon as she moved.

“John!” she blurted, amazed to be looking at his real face when she’d been visualising him in front of her. “What are you doing here?” She tugged the headphones from her ears.

He rose from his crouched position, fought a grimace and rubbed his knee. He pulled a lounger parallel to hers. “Surprised?” he asked.

“Just a little.” She frowned. How had he known where to find her?

“You got a mini bar in there?” He nodded towards her suite.

“Yeah, but call room service for a whisky.” She handed him a white cordless phone balance by her iced tea.

He took it, hit zero. “Whiskey, s’il vous-plait,” he said when it answered immediately. “Double.”

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