Page 6 of The Grandmaster's Pawn (Checkmate)

We only stay locked together for a single breath, but it’s enough to make my panties wet. “Hi,” I whisper. “You’re…very punctual.”

“I had good reason to be.” He hasn’t let me go, still leaning over my desk. “Now…about that tour.”

* * *

The wine leavesme pleasantly warm, or maybe that’s Daniel. The Italian restaurant is the fanciest in London. But though this is so far out of my comfort zone it’s practically another planet, Daniel is…chivalrous and engaging, setting me at ease.

“More wine?” He tips the bottle towards my glass, and though I know I shouldn’t, I nod. I don’t want this evening to end.

“Thank you. Um, don’t take this the wrong way, but why is someone like you playing chess online every night?” I omit the unspoken “with me,” but he’s handsome, obviously well-off, and incredibly intelligent.

And I’m…a thirty-one-year-old graduate student with four degrees because the idea of leaving school behind and staying in “the real world” long term terrifies me.

“Gemma,” he says, his voice serious, “are you implying I should not be interested in ‘someone like you’?”

“Well…yes.” The wine loosens my tongue, and I try not to fidget as he pins me with an inquisitive stare. “You’re successful, look like you should be on a magazine cover, and—”

“And you are stunning. One of the most intelligent women I have ever met, and your laugh is addicting. Do not ever underestimate yourself, Gemma. Not with me. Not with anyone.” There’s an odd note in his tone I don’t understand, and embarrassment crawls up my spine.

“You have all the right words.”

And I don’t have any.

“Buying and selling art requires a silver tongue.” Nowhe’sself-conscious, his jade green eyes turning a deep emerald as he hands his credit card to the server. “I must often convince someone topartwith a piece they would not otherwise consider selling, or talk a buyer into a much higher price than he or she is willing to pay.”

Art. I pounce on the subject. This is one area where I can hold my own. Thank you, second master’s degree. “What was the hardest deal you ever had to negotiate?”

“One for my own collection.The Siren.” The corners of his lips curve into a hint of a smile, and his gaze softens.

“Waterhouse?” At his nod, I grip the edge of the table. “YouownWaterhouse’s Siren.”

Daniel arches a perfectly-groomed brow. “I do. Would you like to see it?”

“Hell, yes.”

Four

Daniel

The look in her eyes when I mentionedThe Sirenwas too tempting to ignore. I should take her home, leave her with a kiss, and disappear. In thirty-six hours, the Lewis Chessmen will be mine, and I’ll be halfway across the world. Without her.

But Gemma is…intoxicating. The car service rolls to a stop outside my flat, and I open her door, help her up, and tuck her close. Her sweet scent—jasmine and vanilla—wraps around me, and my control shatters further with each breath.

I should not have brought her here. Nor should I have retrievedThe Sirenfrom one of my storage units last week. But after I found out that Gemma had written several academic papers on the painting, I could not resist.

Tatiana will make sure the entire flat is packed up by midnight tomorrow, but though I kept her focus on me as we sped through the London streets, she’s very observant, and could likely lead Interpol here after I am gone.

But I ache to see her reaction to the painting. Flipping on the lights, I lead her into my great room.

“Oh. My.” She takes two steps forward. The loss of her warmth against my side is palpable, but my cock threatens to tent my trousers at the look of pure, unadulterated joy on her face.

“Does it live up to your expectations?” Coming up behind her, I rest one hand on her hip, and she leans into me. My lips are only an inch from her ear, and her dark locks brush my cheek.

“And more.” With a sigh, she twines our fingers. “She’s so…innocent. As if she’s never seen a man before and has no idea he’s drowning.”

“And he is so enamored of her, he forgets the peril he’s in.” Pressing a gentle kiss to her neck, I drink her in.

Gemma shudders in my arms. “The detail…”

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