Illegal Possession by Kay Hooper Page B

was proving a point. Troy, I knew damn well that you’d take only the figurine—”
    “Was that other stuff supposed to tempt me?” she asked tightly.
    “It would have tempted a
thief
,” Dallas responded, “but you aren’t a thief.” He looked at her with a hint of pleading in his eyes. “I mistakenly called you a thief; I don’t want that standing between us.”
    Determined to hang on to her anger at least long enough to air her grievances thoroughly, Troy ignored the plea. “This is your house, isn’t it? Did you hire Chris Jordan to impersonate an anxious victim of theft?”
    “He’s a friend. Troy—”
    “Is this your house?”
    “Yes.”
    “And Roberts. The supposed thief? Another friend?”
    “Yes—”
    “Why couldn’t we trace the deed to this house?”
    “You aren’t the only one with sources. I made sure the deed was temporarily misplaced.”
    Troy stared at him. “That’s illegal.”
    “Isn’t it though.”
    “Scrupulously legal Dallas Cameron illegally suppressing a deed?”
    “You’ve turned me into a criminal,” he said, suddenly mournful.
    Totally against her will, she felt a laugh rising in her throat. The one perfect gem of Dallas’s unlawful tampering had destroyed her temper as nothing else could have done.
    Encouraged by her obvious amusement, Dallas continued along the same lines. “Between the two friends whom I was forced to take into my confidence and my source downtown, I’ve shot my lawful reputation all to hell. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before the gossip columns proclaim to the world that Cameron is tarnished beyond redemption.”
    She tried to conjure up a frown and failed. “You should be shot.”
    “You’re not mad at me anymore, are you?”
    “Of course, I’m mad. It was a low-down, underhanded,
sneaky
trick.”
    “Motivated by sheer desperation, I assure you.”
    “It didn’t prove anything,” Troy told him loftily. “I could have planned to come back later and empty the safe.”
    “Why?” Dallas asked reasonably. “The stuff in there is paltry compared to what you own yourself.”
    Troy stabbed a finger in his direction. “Ha! The truth will out. You decided that I wasn’t a thief only because I obviously don’t
need
to be a thief.”
    He looked thoughtful. “Partly that. But mostly because I’ve gotten to know you these last few days. You’re no thief.” When she made a slightly scornful noise, he added impulsively, “And I’m so sure of that, I’d consider it an honor to be your backup on your next job.”
    Troy started to laugh derisively at that, but she was reluctantly impressed by his willingness to participate in what he had—at least in the beginning—considered to be unlawful and morally wrong. “I thought you said that the edge of danger was a slippery place. Sure you want to walk on the edge?”
    Dallas sighed softly. “One of these days, Miss Bennett, you’re going to realize that I have absolutely no sense of self-preservation where you’re concerned. Shameful, but true. I will undoubtedly be ruthlessly blackmailed by two former friends for the remainder of my life because I was forced to bare my soul to them and confess an obsession for a benevolent cat burglar; I have taken my life in my hands—or in yours—each time I’ve gotten into that little black misguided missile laughingly called a car; and last, but by no means least, I seem to have developed the fixed intention of hitching my fate to a redheaded, half-French lady cat burglar who also happens to be a Rhodes Scholar, an electronics expert, a pilot, a pillar of Washington society, a philanthropist, a rather talented singer, and who happens to possess one of the most hair-trigger tempers I’ve ever encountered.”
    He took a deep breath, then added dryly, “In your estimation, Miss Bennett, does all of the above make me a reasonably sane, self-preserving male?”
    “No.” Troy was torn between laughter and bemusement.
    “Then obviously I