Angels and Outlaws Read online

  “You don’t think she’s capable?”

  Cass waved a hand. “Are you kidding? Bunnie likes the limelight too much for a clandestine career as an auction house bandit. Besides she’s loaded. She has no reason to steal.”

  “It might not be Bunnie herself, but someone within her sphere of influence.” Like you.

  “Could it be her boyfriend, Trevor Moon?” Cass whispered. “I’ve never liked that guy. Smarmy. It’s him, isn’t it?”

  Sam shrugged, gave her a noncommittal look.

  “Right,” she said. “You’re not at liberty to divulge that much information.”

  He nodded. “So do you think you could rangle me an introduction?”

  “I can do so much better than that,” Cass said, glee dancing like sunshine in her blue eyes. “How would you like to go to the event of the season?”

  “And that would be?”

  “A weekend party at Bunnie’s house in the Hamptons this Friday night.”

  “Ms. Richards,” Sam said, “you’ve got a date.”

  4

  SAM WAS JUST A REGULAR GUY, born and raised in Queens, New York. He’d never had a good excuse to venture out to Long Island and he was feeling decidedly fish-out-of-waterish. What if he embarrassed Cass by eating with the wrong fork or mispronouncing foie gras or spitting out the damned foie gras into a ten-dollar linen napkin if it tasted as gross as it sounded?

  Maybe he’d get lucky and Bunnie Bernaldo wouldn’t serve foie gras.

  Why the hell are you worrying about this stuff? You’re here to catch a jewel thief. Who cares about impressing a bunch of snobby socialites?

  He didn’t care about snobby socialites. What he cared about was how he’d look in Cass’s eyes, and that was a dangerous thing, especially if she turned out to be the thief.

  He told himself that his fascination with her stemmed from having touched her bare butt. If he hadn’t touched her bare butt he wouldn’t be this enchanted.

  Ah, there was the rub. He had touched it. Soft and round and malleable. He hardened, remembering.

  Stop thinking about her butt!

  That was just it. He couldn’t stop thinking about her butt. Or those big blue eyes. Or that flirtatious smile. Or her evocative scent.

  He was in serious trouble here.

  Sam had dressed carefully for the party, choosing navy blue slacks and a black polo shirt. He didn’t own any dress shoes—having thrown away the pair by some fancy-schmancy shoe designer that his ex-wife had given him years ago—and opted for the black Doc Martens half boots he wore to work. He packed his overnight bag with similar clothing for the remainder of the weekend, leaving his holey Levis and Hard Rock Café T-shirts at home. He’d thought he’d done well.

  Until Cass opened her front door and gave him a quick once-over. To her credit, she quickly hid her disappointment, but for a split second he spotted the oh-my-God-he’s-got-the-fashion-sense-of-a-serial-killer look in her eyes. He’s seen that same disappointed expression before, on Keeley’s face.

  Cass looked like something straight out of a fashion magazine. She wore a sea-green dress that put him in mind of a Grecian goddess and gold-and-green-striped pointy-toed shoes that looked as if they must be pinching the blood out of her feet, but she didn’t seem to care.

  Her cleavage was on full display and he liked what he saw. Draped around her slender, swanlike neck was the scarf she’d gone out on the ledge for and she’d twisted her hair up off her shoulders, anchoring it in place with a sparkly hair clip.

  He stared at her, unable to believe he was escorting this gorgeous babe. You’re not escorting her, you’re investigating her. Never forget that.

  Her apartment was just as sophisticated as she. Sleek European-style furniture. Simple tasteful designs. Understated, elegant colors. Funky modern artwork on her walls. Way over his head and his budget.

  He tried to imagine her in his living room with his brown plaid couch and his coffee table with the wood worn smooth where he propped up his feet and his plasma screen TV he’d spent too much money on, but admitted it was worth every penny during football season.

  It was a vision too incongruous to conjure.

  “Nice place,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you live here alone?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t afford this place by myself. My roommate, Elle, is an actress and she just left on the road for four months with the touring company of Mamma Mia. I’m thinking about taking on a temporary roomie in the meantime. If you know anybody who’s looking for a short-term housing solution, send them my way. I could sorely use the cash.”

  Sam wasn’t paying much attention to what she was saying because he was too busy letting his gaze rove over her long lean legs. “You look great. Really, really great.”

  “Why, thank you.” She smiled coyly. “The dress is Alberta Ferretti.”

  “That’s an expensive fashion designer?”

  “Right.”

  “How do you afford clothes like that on an associate public relations specialist’s salary?”

  “How did you know that I’m a PR specialist?”

  “Detective. I detect.”

  “Well, Detective.” She pressed a delicate forefinger against her full, glossy red lips. “Shh, don’t tell anyone, but I get a big discount.”

  The five-fingered discount? Sam wondered and his stomach soured.

  “The next Jitney leaves in half an hour,” she said, turning her wrist over to consult her watch. “We could catch the subway to 86th Street. It would be faster than a taxi in Friday evening traffic.”

  “We don’t have to take the Jitney. I have a car.”

  “You have a car?” She looked impressed. At least he’d gotten that right.

  “Actually, it’s my cousin’s. Don’t get your hopes up. Nothing fancy.”

  “A car is a car and we won’t have to drag our overnight bags with us on the subway.”

  An hour and a half later, after Sam—fibbing up a blue streak—filled her in on his supposed investigation of Bunnie and Trevor, they arrived in the picturesque town of Southampton.

  He felt bad for lying to her, but there was no other way around it. If he’d told her the truth, she wouldn’t have brought him to the party. Then he felt stupid for feeling bad. If he caught her stealing, then she was a criminal and he had no reason to feel remorse. If she wasn’t the thief, no harm, no foul and she should understand he’d simply been doing his job.

  “How do we get to Bunnie’s mansion from here?” Sam asked as he turned off the main road and headed toward the beach.

  “We’re too early,” Cass fretted. “I had no idea you’d get us here so quickly. Drive around a while.”

  “We’re right on schedule,” Sam argued, tapping the clock in the dash of his cousin Manny’s 1998 Toyota Camry. Amid the BMWs and Mercedes and Porches cruising the streets, Manny’s sensible family car was definitely outclassed. Maybe they would have been better off to have taken the Jitney.

  “Long Island schedule is different from Manhattan schedule.”

  “The party starts at eight and it’s seven fifty-nine.”

  “You’ve never heard of being fashionably late?” She arched an eyebrow.

  “My mother taught me it was rude to keep people waiting.”

  “Trust me on this. Only dorks arrive early.”

  “Hey, if dorks are punctual, then okay, I’m a dork. What you see is what you get. I like being on time.”

  “It’s official, then. You’re a dork.”

  He grinned. “Would you wear an I Heart Dorks T-shirt if I bought you one?”

  She looked as if he’d suggested she sell her soul to Satan.

  “Just joking,” he mumbled.

  “I might wear one to bed,” she conceded.

  Great. Now she thought she had hurt his feelings and she was trying to smooth things over by throwing him crumbs.

  When embarrassed by a woman, do what any red-blooded man wo
uld do. Knock her off balance before she realizes what a dork you really are.

  “If you were going to bed with me, sweetheart, you’d be buck naked.” He winked brazenly even though he felt anything but bold around her at the moment.

  Cass was on her toes and she volleyed right back. “I take it you’re not a fan of leather and chains?”

  “Everything has its place.” He tracked his gaze over her impish mouth. “But I’m an old-fashioned guy at heart. Me, my woman, soft music, candlelight, champagne. Do it right and there’s no need for parlor tricks or fantasy role-playing or sex toys.”

  “And I suppose you know how to do it right?” She lowered her lashes, exuding a simmering sensuality that lit his pilot light.

  Anything he could say at this point would sound pretty lame. He’d started this mess. How was he going to get out of it?

  Sam didn’t know what demon possessed him, but he pulled over, stopped the car and turned in his seat to stare at her. He tipped his head, studying the shapely curve of her cheek, the creaminess of her skin. Hair escaped sexily from her clip, long blond tendrils curling down the nape of her neck, a beautiful tempestuous creature.

  His eyes narrowed at the hollow of her throat, the blue vein of her pulse fluttering beneath pale, fine skin. Her pupils darkened, growing wider. She was like something from his hottest wet dream.

  His gaze fixed on her mouth.

  Cass gulped and nervously pulled at the knot of her scarf.

  He leaned in so close he could almost taste her.

  She moistened her lips with the tip of her perky pink tongue and his body hardened in response. It was all he could do not to kiss her.

  His heart thundered and Sam answered her question at last. “With a woman like you,” he said in a deep, flirty tone, “what man could go wrong?”

  Immediately, Cass dropped her gaze to her lap. Nervously, she ran her fingers over the skirt of her dress, smoothing it out when it didn’t need smoothing.

  Had she seen in his eyes the depth of the hunger cleaving through him, the craving for her that strained his self-control? He couldn’t believe the way she made him feel. He was having trouble reconciling his suspicions with his desire for her. What was it about him? Why was he so attracted to bad girls?

  “Um…” she said and he noticed her hand was trembling. “Maybe we could go ahead and go on to the party.”

  He rattled her. Good. Now she had a small inkling into how much she affected him.

  He might be out of his element, but he realized to his surprise, so was she.

  IT WAS A BIT EARLY in the season for an outdoor party, but Bunnie Bernaldo prided herself on being unconventional. Which was one of the reasons her parties were so well attended. Visitors couldn’t wait to see what outrageous stunt Bunnie would pull next.

  To ward off the spring chill rolling in off the Atlantic ocean, Bunnie had had workmen bring giant heaters in and place them strategically around her massive backyard patio. She even had the cabanas open for those brave-hearted souls willing to risk pneumonia for a dip in her heated pool.

  By the time Cass and Sam arrived, the party was gearing up. People spilling out into the yard, car after car arriving, dance music playing. Cass was still disconcerted from the weird thing that had happened between them in the car.

  She wasn’t even sure what had happened.

  When Sam pulled over, she thought he was going to kiss her. She had wanted him to kiss her. And then he’d looked at her like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

  And she’d just lost it.

  Her glibness totally deserted her. And she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he’d meant what he said.

  With a woman like you, what man could go wrong?

  The line terrified her because it had felt so damned good to hear. To know she could affect a man to the point where he thought he could do no wrong.

  She didn’t want that kind of power. What she wanted was a stiff drink and a few lighthearted laughs.

  “Would you like a drink?” Sam asked, eerily reading her mind.

  “Thanks,” she said, giving him her brightest PR smile. “Amaretto and ginger ale.”

  “Gotcha covered.” Sam went off in search of the bar and Cass let out a sigh of relief.

  Thank heavens. Maybe now with him out of her personal space she could collect herself and find a way to keep him out from under her skin.

  Yeah, good luck with that.

  She fidgeted with the scarf. She’d doubled knotted the thing when she was in the car with Sam and it was too tight but if she kept it in a single knot, it would slip off the way it had the day when she’d leaned out the window to wave goodbye to Marissa. The day she’d met Sam.

  “Cass, Cass Richards,” someone called her name.

  She turned to see Julia Covington heading toward her. Julia was a gem specialist who worked for the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Julia was a debutante, but she’d never bought into the social scene and Cass was surprised to see her at Bunnie’s bash.

  “Hi, Julia,” she greeted her warmly.

  “That scarf looks like it’s giving you fits.”

  “I’ve tied it wrong.” Cass untied it and decided to let it just hang loosely around her neck.

  “Hermès?”

  Cass grinned. “What else?”

  “Highway robbery, the prices they charge.”

  “But it’s gorgeous.”

  She didn’t answer, but Cass could tell by the look in Julia’s sensible dark eyes she wouldn’t put up with an expensive scarf that wouldn’t behave, no matter how gorgeous it might be. She stirred her drink with a green swizzle stick. “Is Bunnie putting you up for the weekend?”

  Cass nodded. “You?”

  “No.” Julia cast a sly glance across the room. She gave her sleek hair a casual toss, clearly flirting with the man standing in the doorway assessing her with cool dark eyes. “I’ve made other arrangements.”

  “Oh?” Cass tilted her head for a better look. The guy was fall-down-dead handsome, but the minute he realized Cass was watching him, he ducked into the crowd. “Is he a new boyfriend?”

  “No.” Julia’s patrician smile said I’ve-got-a-delicious-secret.

  Cass leaned in. “A lusty fling?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You lucky dog.”

  “Don’t try to kid me, I saw your date. You’re looking pretty lucky yourself. Although I must say he doesn’t seem like your usual type.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s rugged, earthy. You’re generally on the arm of a charming playboy.”

  “Oh, Sam’s not my date.” She didn’t want Julia getting the wrong idea.

  “That’s a shame because I thought you two looked really cute together. And if you had kids, wow. They’d be knockouts.”

  Kids? She and Sam? Not hardly.

  “He’s a detective,” Cass said impulsively. She had no idea why she said it, other than to disrupt Julia’s commentary on their compatibility.

  “A police detective or a P.I.?”

  “A police detective.” Cass lowered her voice. “But I’m trusting you not to tell anyone. He’s here because he thinks Bunnie’s boyfriend might somehow be involved in the theft of the White Star from Stanhope’s auction house.”

  “Really?” Julia splayed a hand over her heart. “I’d be curious to see the amulet. I heard a vague rumor about it years ago. From what I recall, the piece doesn’t have much monetary value but there are collectors who want it for the ancient lore.”

  “Oh?” Cass dropped her voice. “What do you know about the White Star?”

  But before Julia could elaborate, Sam was back with Cass’s drink. She introduced them and prayed Julia wouldn’t bring up the theft again, thereby revealing how indiscreet she’d been.

  Thankfully, Julia caught her vibes. “Oops, someone I have to speak to is waving at me. See you later, Cass. Nice to meet you, Sam. Don’t do anything I won’t do.” She gave them a back
ward wave and headed for the crowd clustered near the swimming pool.

  “She seems nice,” Sam said.

  “She is.”

  “So when do I get to meet the famous Bunnie Bernaldo?” he asked.

  “Let me see if I can find our hostess.”

  Cass took him by the hand and led him through the fashionably dressed throng. “Anyone seen Bunnie?”

  “I think she went inside,” said a fashion model who called herself Mystique, whom Cass knew from Isaac Vincent’s. “She said something about unveiling the big party game soon.”

  People tittered with interest, anticipating Bunnie’s surprise. For the first time since arriving at the party, Cass realized none of her married friends were in attendance. As she glanced around at the guests it dawned on her everyone at the party was single.

  Very interesting.

  “Remember Bunnie’s survivor party where she had the guests vote each others’ clothes off until everyone was running around in their skivvies?” Mystique said.

  “What about the time she invited local politicians to a lavish charity dinner and seated them with their wives on one side and their mistresses on the other? I recollect there were several high-profile divorces following that one,” someone else put in.

  “No, no, the best one was the truth or dare Botox party. No one in Long Island could frown for three months afterwards.”

  Sam pulled Cass back and whispered in her ear. “What in the hell did we get ourselves into?”

  She shrugged. “With Bunnie, there’s no telling. That’s the fun of her parties. She’s rich enough and wild enough to pull almost anything.”

  They went into the house, accompanied by sounds of Coldplay coming from all directions.

  “Bunnie?” she asked the group hanging out in the kitchen.

  Someone pointed upstairs.

  Her hand interlaced with Sam’s, she guided him through the living room, but then stopped so quickly he plowed into her back.

  “What is it?” Sam asked.

  Cass ducked behind a pedestal displaying a fat bronze Buddha with a huge jade stone in his navel.

  “Oh, God.” She groaned. “It’s Marcos.”

  “Who’s Marcos?”

  “This guy I dated for a month and I just broke up with him three weeks ago. Clingy as Saran wrap. Pray he doesn’t see me.”