The Art of Stealing Kisses (Stealing Hearts Book 2) by Stella London Page B

I’ve
discovered. The travel plans, the dates of the other heists…
All the
evidence points to St. Clair being a criminal, but the one thing I
can’t
understand is, why?
    Why
steal things he can easily afford? Why risk a lifetime in prison just
for…what?
I don’t
buy Lennox’s
“in
it for the thrill” motivation.
St. Clair enjoys risk, yes, but always for a purpose. What could he
possibly want with those paintings he couldn’t
show off or enjoy?
    “Staring
at a great piece of art?” St.
Clair pops his head into my office. I jump, and slam my laptop shut.
He’s
smiling at me, totally relaxed. “You’re
so cute when you’re
focused.”
    I
force myself to smile. “Uh…hi,”
I
stutter. “Just
quadruple checking my list for the student art show.”
My hands are
shaking so I put them in my lap. I hate lying like this.
    He
smiles. “I’m
sure they’re
the perfect choices.”
    There
he goes, being so supportive again. It only makes me feel worse for
planning on turning him in, for suspecting him in the first place.
God, and what if I’m
wrong?
    “I
just dropped by to see if I could take you to lunch. You free?”
He flashes
his pearly whites and his dimples at me like a one-two punch and my
heart does a little flip flop in my chest. I want to say yes so
badly.
    “I’m
sorry, but I can’t,”
I lie again.
“I
have lunch plans with Paige.”
    “You’re
making it a regular daily appointment then.”
    Crap!
I forgot I told him about yesterday. I try to cover. “You
know us girls—we
just can’t
stop talking!” St.
Clair gives me a puzzled look. Stay,
cool, Grace, geez. I
take a breath. “It’s
just been so long since I got to spend any time with her, you know?
I’ve
really missed her.”
    His
face softens. “I
understand. Rain check on lunch?”
    I
nod. “Definitely.” After I go
off to meet a man who wants to arrest you and ruin your life. “Can’t
wait.”
I check the time. “I
should get going.”
    I
get up to leave, but he catches me on my way to the door, and pulls
me in, close to his chest. “Maybe
dinner tonight instead?” he
says, low, and I can see the desire in his eyes. He traces the
outline of my lips with his fingertip, and I can’t
help but melt against him.
    My
mind may be torn and conflicted, but my body has no doubt.
    He
kisses me, and I can’t
help it: I kiss him back.
    My
guilt is as heavy as a statue.
     
    I
walk to meet Lennox at the address he gave me: the Green Frog’s
Pub in Soho. It’s
a small, sort of old fashioned English bar with lots of wood and
flags outside, not as hip and modern as the other neighborhood spots.
I bet that’s
why Lennox chose it—not
as many people to overhear a discreet midday conversation.
    My
heart is racing by the time I step through the door. I don’t
know what my game plan is, I just know, I need to find out more. It’s
going to be tricky dealing with Lennox, but I remind myself: he needs
my help. He doesn’t
know about St. Clair’s
calendar, and I don’t
have to tell him just yet, not until I’m
sure.
    Inside,
the pub is dim and quiet. I find Lennox sitting in a small back room,
empty save for one other occupied table that houses two men talking
low and intently.
    “I
feel like we’re
in a gangster movie,” I
say as I sit down. “Are
you actually a cop?” I
joke, but I really am nervous. I snuck out of the office even though
I’m
sure St. Clair’s
not following me. I feel like I’m
doing something shady, like I should be cloaked and slipping out into
the shadows under the cover of darkness.
    A
ghost of a smile tugs at Nick’s
lips. “I
thought you might be more comfortable somewhere inconspicuous.”
    “Okay.”
I jiggle my
leg, not sure what to say and full of nervous energy.
    Lennox
studies me and then says, “You’ve
found something, haven’t
you?”
    I
stop shaking and jerk my head at him. “No.”
Damn! I
really need to work on being cool under pressure. “I
just want to know more about the case.”
I