you safe,” she replied and then fell silent. After a moment, she glanced at him through long eyelashes. “This is really bad, you know.”
“What?”
She waved a hand at them. “This. Us. Last night.”
“I thought it was pretty damn good.”
She ran her hands over her face and groaned. “Am I the only one here that’s going to regret what happened?”
“Do you regret what happened?”
Alex paused before answering. “No. And I know I should, but I don’t.”
And strangely enough, neither did he. He kissed her shoulder. “This does complicate things, Alexis, but we’ll figure something out.”
She nodded, but didn’t reply.
He remembered their coffee but was quick to discard it as it had gone cold.
She saw his disgruntled look and smiled. “It seems like we have a reason to get up then.”
“Hell no. I’d rather have you above coffee any day.”
She gave a playful push to his shoulder. “As game as I am to keep up with the continuous orgasms, I need the fix that only coffee can give me, so off you go. It’s your fault the coffee went cold.”
He slid a hand underneath the sheet and grazed his fingers along the side of her breast. “You’re so easy,” he said, chuckling at her sharp intake of breath.
“Cole. Coffee.”
With a final nip to her breast, he jumped up with a satisfied sigh and jogged down the first flight of stairs in high spirits.
His mood changed when he found his assistant waiting for him, a folder clasped under his arm. John’s expression was grim and Cole soon forgot about the coffee.
****
Half an hour later, when Alex walked into Cole’s office, her eyes flashed with surprise to find he wasn’t alone.
Cole saw her attempt to silently retreat, but he waved her in, destroying any chances she had of a quick exit. “Mike Willis was murdered last night. It looks like a robbery as one of his paintings is missing.”
Alex reeled back as though he’d punched her. “Mike is dead?”
“It’s all over the news. The cleaning crew found him this morning with one of his own antique swords shoved in his stomach.”
Alex closed her eyes. “Any suspects?”
“Not yet.”
“And the painting?”
“A 1916 Monet.”
“His Water Lily painting? That sold for the same price as the Renoir.”
“Where were you in the early hours of this morning?” John questioned, staring at Alex with a cold, accusing expression. When Alex ignored him, he pointed at the file in Cole’s hand. “It’s an odd coincidence, don’t you think? The night someone tried to steal an eighteen million dollar painting out of your home, Alexis—the daughter of an experienced art thief—was there. And last night she was at Mike’s dinner party, chatting with him. This morning a Monet worth eighteen mil is gone and Mike is dead.”
Cole exhaled and tried to dismiss the small spark of doubt that had seeped into his mind. He refused to believe she was guilty—not the beautiful, sexy, and warm woman he’d just spent one of the best damn nights of his life with.
The file in his hand was the background check on Alex he’d requested and it contained all the information about Alex and her mother.
A cat burglar’s daughter.
“Makes her look guilty to me, Cole,” John said.
“You think I did this?” Alex exclaimed as it dawned on her what John was suggesting. She crossed the room and snatched the file out of Cole’s hand. “What the hell is this?” she demanded and flipped through the pages. Her eyes widened and she scowled at Cole. “You have a file on me?”
“Alex—”
She whirled around to face John. “And you think I murdered Mike Willis and stole his painting? Mike was a client of mine, you ass!” She spun around to glare at Cole. “Call off your watchdog, Anderson, because he’s barking up the wrong damn tree.”
She threw the file at him and stomped upstairs, leaving the two men in silence.
****
Cole found her in the shower, standing with her head against the wall. Eyes
“What?”
She waved a hand at them. “This. Us. Last night.”
“I thought it was pretty damn good.”
She ran her hands over her face and groaned. “Am I the only one here that’s going to regret what happened?”
“Do you regret what happened?”
Alex paused before answering. “No. And I know I should, but I don’t.”
And strangely enough, neither did he. He kissed her shoulder. “This does complicate things, Alexis, but we’ll figure something out.”
She nodded, but didn’t reply.
He remembered their coffee but was quick to discard it as it had gone cold.
She saw his disgruntled look and smiled. “It seems like we have a reason to get up then.”
“Hell no. I’d rather have you above coffee any day.”
She gave a playful push to his shoulder. “As game as I am to keep up with the continuous orgasms, I need the fix that only coffee can give me, so off you go. It’s your fault the coffee went cold.”
He slid a hand underneath the sheet and grazed his fingers along the side of her breast. “You’re so easy,” he said, chuckling at her sharp intake of breath.
“Cole. Coffee.”
With a final nip to her breast, he jumped up with a satisfied sigh and jogged down the first flight of stairs in high spirits.
His mood changed when he found his assistant waiting for him, a folder clasped under his arm. John’s expression was grim and Cole soon forgot about the coffee.
****
Half an hour later, when Alex walked into Cole’s office, her eyes flashed with surprise to find he wasn’t alone.
Cole saw her attempt to silently retreat, but he waved her in, destroying any chances she had of a quick exit. “Mike Willis was murdered last night. It looks like a robbery as one of his paintings is missing.”
Alex reeled back as though he’d punched her. “Mike is dead?”
“It’s all over the news. The cleaning crew found him this morning with one of his own antique swords shoved in his stomach.”
Alex closed her eyes. “Any suspects?”
“Not yet.”
“And the painting?”
“A 1916 Monet.”
“His Water Lily painting? That sold for the same price as the Renoir.”
“Where were you in the early hours of this morning?” John questioned, staring at Alex with a cold, accusing expression. When Alex ignored him, he pointed at the file in Cole’s hand. “It’s an odd coincidence, don’t you think? The night someone tried to steal an eighteen million dollar painting out of your home, Alexis—the daughter of an experienced art thief—was there. And last night she was at Mike’s dinner party, chatting with him. This morning a Monet worth eighteen mil is gone and Mike is dead.”
Cole exhaled and tried to dismiss the small spark of doubt that had seeped into his mind. He refused to believe she was guilty—not the beautiful, sexy, and warm woman he’d just spent one of the best damn nights of his life with.
The file in his hand was the background check on Alex he’d requested and it contained all the information about Alex and her mother.
A cat burglar’s daughter.
“Makes her look guilty to me, Cole,” John said.
“You think I did this?” Alex exclaimed as it dawned on her what John was suggesting. She crossed the room and snatched the file out of Cole’s hand. “What the hell is this?” she demanded and flipped through the pages. Her eyes widened and she scowled at Cole. “You have a file on me?”
“Alex—”
She whirled around to face John. “And you think I murdered Mike Willis and stole his painting? Mike was a client of mine, you ass!” She spun around to glare at Cole. “Call off your watchdog, Anderson, because he’s barking up the wrong damn tree.”
She threw the file at him and stomped upstairs, leaving the two men in silence.
****
Cole found her in the shower, standing with her head against the wall. Eyes
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