When She Was Bad...
Autorzy
Cara Summers
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16,5K
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18
Harlequin🏰 Historical
Harlequin1
Friday, February 13—12 p.m.
PEPPER SCANNED Escapade Island’s small airport, but the miracle she’d been praying for didn’t occur. There was no sign of Irene or the Monet. As per usual, her plan to become Pepper Rossi, super sleuth, was not going well.
This time she couldn’t in all conscience lay the blame at Cole Buchanan’s feet. If she’d been distracted during the past few days because she couldn’t pry him loose from her thoughts, she had no one to blame but herself. She’d started what had happened in the penthouse suite. She’d acted, as usual, on impulse and gotten in way over her head. Acting without thinking things through was a flaw that her grandmother Pendleton had initially pointed out to her when she was about four. And Pepper knew the accompanying lecture by heart. Trouble was, she mostly ignored it, so she’d been a constant disappointment to her grandmother. The end result was that she’d left Chicago. Moving to San Francisco was a golden opportunity to start fresh and to finally fit in with a family. But now the same thing was threatening to happen with the Rossis. She was screwing up, and she couldn’t seem to fit in with them either.
And kissing Cole Buchanan hadn’t been her only impulsive act two nights ago. She’d also helped her aunt steal a priceless Monet. And now she’d lost track of both.
“Please, God.” She repeated the prayer that she’d been sending up on a regular basis during the commuter flight to Escapade Island. “I promise, if you’ll just let me find Irene and recover the Monet, I’ll never do another impulsive thing in my life. Really.”
Quickening her pace, she threaded her way through her fellow deplaning passengers, trying to ignore the headache that pounded at full throttle behind her eyes. Tailing people had been one of her strengths in the PI course she’d taken. Still, she’d lost Irene in the crowd at the Miami airport. She hadn’t panicked because she figured that her aunt would eventually board the connecting flight to Escapade Island. But it was a tall man, speaking with a French accent, wearing a beret and sporting a goatee, who’d taken the final empty seat just before takeoff.
Pepper skidded to a stop and barely missed crashing into the couple in front of her. They’d stopped to embrace. She wasn’t sure if it was the clinch or the fact that they were wearing long trench coats, but several other people had slowed down or stopped to watch them. This close, she could see that they were older than they’d seemed at a distance—in their seventies, she figured. Well, more power to them, she thought as she dodged to her left and sped around the small crowd that was gathering.
She had to figure out why Irene had missed the flight. Her first thought was that her aunt had spotted her in the Miami airport and changed her plans. But that didn’t make sense. First of all, Pepper had disguised herself in a blond wig and jeans. Irene had never seen her in either. Ladies never wore jeans. Grandmother Pendleton had drilled that into her at a very early age. And jeans had been forbidden at the exclusive boarding school she’d been sent to for high school. It had been part of her grandmother’s attempt to turn her into a lady like her mother, but it hadn’t exactly paid off.
Pepper wished that she could remember her mother. All she really had to go on were the stories that her grandmother had told her of how perfectly her mother had always acted in any situation. So far, she hadn’t had the courage to pump her brothers or her father about her mother. She would—once she felt more comfortable around them…once she fit in.
Glancing up, Pepper caught her reflection in the glass wall that ran the length of the airport. Except for the strappy red high-heeled sandals, she barely recognized herself. The thin gold hoops at her ears had been a last-minute addition to the disguise. According to her grandmother, a true lady wore studs. The Jackie O sunglasses and a small black duffel she’d slung over her shoulder completed the outfit. She barely recognized herself, so there was no way that Irene had “made” her.
But even if she had, her aunt wouldn’t have changed her plans. In the letters that her aunt had sent her over the years, Pepper had come to know her pretty well. And she’d come to admire the fact that once Irene had a goal, she went after it full throttle. That was how Irene had gotten her own TV show. And when the ratings had dropped during the first season, Irene had broken into the mayor’s mansion to prove that even the “best” security system had its flaws. If Irene was hell-bent on giving the Monet to Butch Castellano on Valentine’s Day, which was tomorrow, she’d let nothing and no one stand in her way.
Pepper was holding on to that thought. On the bright side, Evan Atwell’s mother had decided not to report the theft to the authorities. That would have meant canceling the charity auction, and she didn’t want to do that until she had to. Too much time and planning had gone into it, she’d claimed. Instead, Althea Atwell was going to give Rossi Investigations until Sunday, the day of the charity auction, to recover the painting. She wanted the Monet back, and she expected the team at RI to get it. There’d been the threat of a law suit if they weren’t able to produce the Monet by Sunday. But even without a lawsuit, if the news was made public that the painting had been stolen while Rossi Investigations was on the job, the bad publicity might ruin her brothers’ fledgling business.
Luke and Matt hadn’t spoken one word of reproach to her, but they’d been clearly disappointed. They’d encouraged her to take a few days off. The subtext was that they didn’t want her help, and she could hardly blame them.
She hadn’t told anyone—neither the police nor her brothers—about Irene’s involvement. If Luke and Matt had known about it, they would have stopped her aunt from flying to Escapade Island to give the painting to Butch. As much as Pepper loved her brothers, she hadn’t been able to betray her aunt. But she hadn’t told Irene she was following her to the island either. She wasn’t as sold on Butch Castellano’s born-again honesty as her aunt was, and one way or another she was going to make sure that the painting got back to San Francisco by Sunday night. And then—she shot a glance heavenward—she was definitely going to mend her impulsive ways.
Striding into the main room of the airport, Pepper glanced at her watch again and for the first time the date registered. Her stomach plummeted, and her headache accelerated into the chaotic rhythm of kettle drums.
Today was Friday the thirteenth.
No wonder she’d lost her aunt. If her luck went the way it usually did, Irene’s disappearance was just the first thing that would go wrong today. In her experience, bad luck always came in threes.
When someone plowed into her from behind, Pepper stumbled and felt herself grabbed and steadied.
“Sorry, ma’am. You all right?”
Turning, she found herself looking up into the eyes of a tall man wearing a cowboy hat. “Yes. I’m fine.”
“Glad to hear it.” Then he touched the brim of his hat. “My lady’s getting away from me.” Stepping around her, he lengthened his stride, and Pepper caught a glimpse of a woman beating a fast path to the exit sign.
It occurred to her then that almost everyone on the flight had been part of a couple, including the trench coat couple who’d stopped traffic. Hardly surprising, she thought. On the Internet, Escapade Island advertised itself as the perfect vacation spot for lovers, and tomorrow was Valentine’s Day. The flight attendants on the plane from Miami had been really into the spirit of the holiday. There’d been streamers and plump little cupids decorating the cabin, and they’d even passed out chocolate hearts wrapped in red and pink foil.
As usual, she was without a current lover. In fact, she’d been without one for some time. Of course, she’d nearly managed to catapult herself out of the celibate state when she’d kissed Cole two nights ago.
But she wasn’t going to think about that—much—until she’d recovered the Monet.
Before that, her last serious and intimate relationship with a man had been in college, and it had ended when Bobby Caswell had graduated a year ahead of her and gone back home to marry his high school sweetheart. She’d thought she’d been in love. And Bobby had definitely been in love—with another woman.
Naturally, she’d been a little man shy after that. In Philadelphia, she’d gone out with a string of eligible bachelors that her grandmother had selected, but she’d never quite clicked with any of them. Those relationships had rarely lasted beyond the first date. And even though she’d gone out with Evan Atwell for almost six months, their relationship had never progressed beyond the platonic stage.
Of course, she’d broken things off with him at the three-month stage, but for some reason he’d still wanted to “date” her. She thought it had something to do with the fact that his mother had approved of her, and he wanted some time to break the news to her. And truth be told, continuing to date Evan had given her a shield against Cole. As long as she was officially dating Evan, she hadn’t had to face what she was going to do about what she felt for him.
It didn’t take a super sleuth to recognize a pattern in her history with men. It was the history of her life. She never measured up.
As a result, she was sex starved.
That was the only explanation she could see for the way she’d responded so…explosively to Cole Buchanan’s kiss. In the past day and a half, she’d given it some careful thought—even though she’d vowed not to think about it—and she’d figured it out. Cole had wanted her. It was only natural that she’d be attracted to that. And she’d wanted him. She’d known that from that very first moment in her father’s kitchen. So the explosion had occurred. She’d aced her chemistry classes, so she should have foreseen it and been more prepared. She would be if he ever kissed her again.
Pepper frowned as she dashed around yet another strolling couple. Dammit, she was thinking about that kiss again. In the last day and a half, she hadn’t been able to get it out of her mind. Nor could she stop fantasizing about what might have happened if Cole hadn’t discovered that the Monet was gone.
Grimly, she pushed those fantasies out of her mind. Reality check. Number one, the Monet was missing. Two, her aunt was missing. Three, she had to recover both of them. Kissing Cole Buchanan was not on her current to-do list.
Not that the opportunity for another kiss was going to present itself anytime soon. She hadn’t even seen Cole since that night. He hadn’t been at the office yesterday, hadn’t tried to contact her.
Obviously, the experience hadn’t been memorable for Cole at all. Perhaps that flood of desire was a common occurrence for him. He was probably used to getting swept away like that. Or maybe the experience hadn’t been mutual. Perhaps he hadn’t been swept away.
Damn. She stepped out of the stream of passengers and steadied herself against a nearby wall. Just thinking about that kiss was all it took for the sensations to come streaming back. She pressed the heel of her hand against her heart to still the hammering, and she drew in a deep breath as heat flooded her body and melted her bones. No man had ever made her feel so wanton, so weak, so…incredible.
And she wanted so much to feel that way again—to see where those sensations would lead. Pressing her hand to her stomach, she concentrated on breathing. Thank heavens she’d gotten away from San Francisco. If she’d run into Cole again, she wasn’t sure she could keep her impulsive side—that part of her she’d learned she must control—in check.
Stop thinking about it. Pepper drew in another deep breath, stiffened her spine, and pushed herself away from the wall. Information. That’s what she needed. Knowledge was power. Irene had missed the flight, so she’d be on the next one to the island. If nothing else, her aunt was resourceful. Plus, she’d committed grand larceny for an old boyfriend, so she would hardly let a missed flight get in the way of giving the Monet to him.
Striding through an archway, Pepper scanned the main room of the airport. It was high-ceilinged and open to the air on one side. Here and there cement planters bulged with huge red flowers and smaller orange and pink ones. Pepper was abruptly and completely charmed. She didn’t think she’d seen either species of flower before, and she was sure she hadn’t experienced the scent—something between the exotic aroma of gardenia and the innocence of lily of the valley.
Of course, she’d never seen anything like this island before either. The bird’s-eye view from the plane had looked like a carefully constructed movie set. A blue lagoon snaked through the forest of palm trees that covered almost half of the island. From what she could see, the hotel offered rooms with balconies that overlooked the ocean, as well as separate little thatched-roof bungalows along stretches of white sand beaches.
But it was the surrounding sea itself that fascinated her. She turned to the open side of the room and took another look at the water now. She’d seen the Pacific, but even on the sunniest day, it had never been this shade of turquoise. While she waited for Irene to arrive on the next plane, she might walk over and check it out.
Information, she reminded herself. Scanning the room again, she saw uniformed agents standing behind a counter, checking in luggage and handing out boarding passes to departing visitors. There were lines, and she didn’t have time for them. Finally, she spotted what she was looking for. Beneath a large round clock stood a young tall man wearing white shorts and a blue flowered shirt. The counter in front of him sported a banner that read, Welcome to Escapade Island…Where Pleasure Is Limitless.
Crossing her fingers, Pepper sent up another silent prayer as she strode toward the counter. Please let me find Aunt Irene and get the Monet back to the Atwells. And let that happen today. Please. Her experience was that the more specific she made her prayers, the more likely they were to be answered in a timely fashion.
When she reached the counter, she noted that the tall man standing behind it had a pleasant face and a smoothly shaved head. His name tag read Gari and when he glanced up from the book he was reading, he beamed a smile at her.
“Welcome to Escapade Island, miss. My name is Garibaldi, but I go by Gari.” He ran a head over his head, and his grin widened. “My friend Reynaldo said that if I didn’t nickname myself, I might get stuck with Baldy, so I went with Gari. How do you like our island?”
“It’s lovely.” Charmed by the young man’s enthusiasm, Pepper found herself smiling back. His voice had a musical lilt to it and a slight accent that she couldn’t quite place. British? Because the counter was a bit high, she placed her hands on it and raised herself even higher up on her tiptoes. “Are you from the island?”
“No, I’m a transplant from Miami. My friend Reynaldo was hired to run the specialty gift shop in the hotel, and I came with him. Now, I’m hooked. I mean, why leave paradise?” He waved a hand, and although she hadn’t thought it possible, his smile brightened.
Pepper found her gaze moving back to the sea. “It reminds me of a movie set.”
“Oh, it’s real all right.” Reaching beneath the counter, he handed her a small booklet. “Originally, this island was home to one of the largest sugar plantations in the area. This little book gives the history of the island and of some of the people who lived here.”
“Thanks.” Tearing her gaze away from the sea, Pepper took the book and tucked it in her duffel.
“Now tell me what I can do to make your stay a more pleasant one.”
“My aunt. She missed the plane from Miami.”
“Not to worry.” Gari beamed a smile at her. “There’ll be another plane tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? You’re joking.”
“No, ma’am. There’s only one flight a day from the mainland.”
“That’s…I…she has to get here today.”
Gari chuckled. “No problem. Here on the island, tomorrow is as good as today.”
“No. Tomorrow is very definitely a problem.” Even as her mind raced, Pepper’s heart sank. Friday the Thirteenth, Part II. That had to be it. “I need to get back to Miami. I have to find my aunt.”
“Today’s flight back to the mainland is booked. And there are several people ahead of you on standby.”
“But my aunt…she can’t wait until tomorrow.”
“Now, don’t you worry, miss. Whatever is worrying you will wait. You’ll see. Time has a different flavor here on the island, and what seemed so important on the mainland will soon matter very little on Escapade Island. Take one walk on the beach and you’ll see what I mean.”
Pepper’s gaze shifted to the sea again. The strength of her desire to take off her sandals and walk on that white, white sand surprised her. She couldn’t ever recall being drawn to a beach before. Certainly not in Philadelphia where she’d grown up, and not in San Francisco either. She’d always had way too many things to do. Pleasing her grandmother and now proving herself to her brothers and her father had taken all of her time and concentration. Especially with the amount of time she had to spend on damage control when she screwed up.
She didn’t have time now either, she reminded herself. She had a Monet to recover. If she had an inner beach bunny struggling to emerge, it would have to wait its turn. Right now, she’d better channel Veronica Mars, girl super sleuth, again. Turning back to Gari, she upped the wattage on her own smile. “That sounds delightful, but—”
“It does sound delightful.”
Pepper jumped. Even before she whirled around, she recognized the voice. Sure enough, Cole Buchanan was standing behind her. Panic erupted. She thought of running. But she had no doubt that if she bolted, he’d catch her. And this was an island. How far could she run?
“Good decision,” he said as though reading her mind, his hand closing around her upper arm.
Just that one touch had ribbons of heat unfurling up her arm. Fighting the sudden melting sensation that threatened to paralyze her, Pepper searched her mind for something to say. No use pretending that he’d made a mistake. Clearly, he’d seen through her disguise.
So…what did you say to a man you’d nearly made love to after one kiss? That you definitely would have made love to him if a Monet hadn’t been snatched from right under your nose? That you still wanted to make love to him? The adrenaline coursing through her veins wasn’t just panic, she realized. She still wanted to jump the man. Pushing down the feelings now churning in her stomach, she smiled at him and said the first thing that came into her mind, “Of all the gin joints in all the world…”
Gari chuckled. “Casablanca, right? You have to meet my friend Reynaldo. He’s a movie buff, too.”
Cole’s lips didn’t so much as twitch.
“I gather you two know each other,” Gari said.
“Yes.” Cole and Pepper spoke in unison.
“That’s wonderful,” Gari said. “No lady this lovely should be alone on Escapade Island, especially this weekend. We’re celebrating Valentine’s Day in a big way.” Pulling out two tickets from beneath the counter, he handed them to Cole. “Those are good for two free drinks at the poolside café. Come down as soon as you get settled. I work the one to nine o’clock shift.” He winked at Cole. “Valentine’s Day was invented for lovers, and this is not a lady who should be alone.”
“She won’t be,” Cole said.
Pepper’s mind was racing. What was Cole doing on Escapade Island? One thing she knew for sure—the answer wasn’t going to be good. It took some effort, but she kept her eyes on his—at least what she could see of them behind amber-colored sunglasses.
Cole still didn’t return her smile. “Shall we go?” Without waiting for a reply, he drew her toward the exit.
Friday the thirteenth had struck its third blow, Pepper decided. Didn’t that mean that her luck had to change?
COLE HAD TO HAND IT to her. For one minute, he’d been sure she was going to cut and run, but she hadn’t. Neither had she caused a scene in front of the beaming Gari, and she hadn’t protested when he’d drawn her out of the airport and helped her into the little convertible he’d rented from the island agency. Pepper Rossi had class. That was one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place.
Damned if he didn’t admire her guts too. The line from Casablanca had nearly made him laugh. But his reaction to seeing her again wasn’t a laughing matter. Even in the blond wig and the low-slung jeans, he’d picked her out of the crowd of deplaning passengers. Of course, he’d been looking for her, and her petite build was one clue, the ankle-breaking shoes another. Plus, she was one of the few passengers who hadn’t been part of a couple.
But even before the rational side of his brain had picked up on all those details, his body had responded to her, heating the way it always did. Blindfolded, he’d know when she walked into a room, and from the very first, he’d never been able to completely control the effect that she had on him.
Even now and even despite that she’d helped someone steal that Monet right out from under his nose, he still wanted her. And he had a hunch that her partner in crime was none other than her boyfriend, Evan Atwell. The jealousy that he’d always felt whenever he’d seen Pepper in Evan’s company had sharpened, slicing through him like a knife, when he’d figured it out.
He’d spent some time puzzling through it, but so far it was the only theory that fit all the pieces. Oh, he didn’t have all the details pinned down quite yet, but greed was a prime motive, and collecting the insurance at the same time that you sold the Monet to a private collector who didn’t care much about the law was one way to have your cake and eat it too.
Once you looked at it, the evidence was all there. Evan had insisted that Pepper handle the security arrangements for the Monet by herself. Then there was the fact that she’d made a move on him the moment he’d walked into the suite. Whatever his intentions had been when he’d come there from the symphony, she’d initiated the kiss. But what had nailed the theory for him was his discovery that both Pepper and Evan Atwell had booked airline tickets to an island owned by a French Impressionist collector immediately following the theft.
He flicked her a brief glance. She might look innocent, but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she was guilty as sin. Pepper Rossi had a reputation for getting herself in trouble, but this was the deepest hole she’d dug yet. And she’d done it for another man.
But, somehow, knowing that didn’t seem to diminish the fact that he still wanted her. Desperately. In the day and a half since he’d last seen her, his desire for her had only grown. He’d had a taste, and similar to Adam’s experience with the apple, he wanted more. And he’d have it just as soon as he straightened the mess she’d gotten herself into.
She wanted him too. Whatever her motives for kissing him in the penthouse suite, she hadn’t faked her response. And she wanted him right now. The moment she’d turned to face him in the airport, he’d seen the pulse beating at her throat. He knew that pulse. For six months, he’d seen it quicken every time he was near her, and watching her respond to him like that, knowing that at least something of what he was feeling was reciprocated, had made it almost impossible for him to bide his time and keep his distance. It was going to make it pure hell to resist her now.
Easing the car to a stop, Cole turned to study her as he waited for an old man to lead a cow across the road. The disguise was a good one. He’d never seen her wear anything but the most conservative suits and jewelry to the office. He suppressed the urge to reach out and trace the gold hoop in her ear.
With any woman other than Pepper Rossi, he would have been able to develop a strategy. He was good at that. It had been his ticket for survival in the foster care system. With each new family, he’d studied them, learning as much as he could, and then he’d developed a strategy for fitting in. Role-playing had been key. But he hadn’t yet figured out a strategy for dealing with Pepper Rossi. From the moment he’d first laid eyes on her, he hadn’t been sure of his moves. The last time a woman had made him this wary, he’d been fourteen and she’d been sixteen. But even then, he hadn’t taken long to figure it out.
Six months hadn’t helped him figure out how to handle Pepper, partly due to the fact that he could never quite predict what she would do. Like that kiss.
When the cow finally made it to the other side of the road, he eased the car into gear and drove forward. One thing he did know, in a battle, forewarned was forearmed. He was not going to let what he felt for Pepper Rossi interfere with recovering the Monet. The Rossis had done so much for him over the years—
“Why are you here?” she asked.
He shot her a brief glance as he turned the car onto the narrow road that wound along the coast. She was looking straight ahead, blond hair blowing in the wind, chin lifted, hands clasped tightly in her lap. He’d seen her sit the same way at meetings with her brothers and at family dinners with her father. She was wound up tight as usual. Not good, because that too was one of the things that drew him to her. Because he badly wanted to see what would happen when she came unwound. Now that he’d had a sample, he was going to have more.
“I’m here to save your pretty little ass.”
