CATCH ME IF YOU CAN Page 5

  He held up the sapphires in one hand as he toweled his hair dry with the other. His gaze flicked to whatever it was she clutched in her hand.

  She looked down and stared.

  Handcuffs!

  He walked over and perched on the edge of the desk. She determinedly ignored his towel-clad hips and the fact that the fluffy terry cloth parted alarmingly high up his thigh when he sat. He reached out and with a forefinger traced along the top of the steel cuff, then past the fingers that held it to her wrist, where his touch lingered.

  "I brought them for you."

  "Oh, really?" she croaked.

  Never in her wildest fantasies had she ever envisioned doing anything with a man that involved handcuffs. She looked at Beau and scandalously wondered what she'd been missing.

  "You touch these sapphires and I'll have to arrest you."

  "Arrest me?" She choked on a laugh, half relieved, half chagrined at the risqué bent of her first thought. Lord almighty, she had to get out of there. Fast.

  "Stealing is against the law."

  "You ought to know, Beaulieux."

  "Yeah. I do." He dipped into the drawer and pulled out a thin, black leather wallet and handed it to her. "In case you still don't believe me."

  She flipped open the wallet, then looked up, eyes wide. "Simon Beaulieux, chief of police, Verdigris, Louisiana."

  He shrugged modestly. "I got four thousand and sixteen out of four thousand and twenty-four votes this time in the mayor's appointment referendum."

  "That's um…" Good grief, she'd tried to sting a chief of police!

  "Five more votes than the time before. My constituency is increasing." He grinned.

  Things were getting more complicated by the minute. Now, if she could just figure out what to do about this ever-increasing string of disasters.

  "Who—who got the other eight votes?" she managed to stammer as he slipped the wallet out of her hand, leaving her holding the handcuffs.

  "Hunter Chenier, our local gentleman moonshiner." Beau's grin widened. "Promised a free jug to anyone who voted for him."

  "I'm surprised he didn't get more votes," she said with a slightly strangled chuckle, fiddling nervously with the metal cuffs.

  "His still mysteriously blew up the day before the election." Beau's naughty smile said he knew exactly who had blown it up.

  Kit pulled herself together and casually said, "Well, Chief, I'm sure your constituents would be very interested in hearing that you were in Vegas running a backroom poker game under a false name, conning jewels and dresses off innocent women."

  "Innocent?" He slid off the desk and put his hands on his hips. "Darlin', I'm the one standing here a tug away from naked and you're holding the handcuffs. My guess is they'd be downright fascinated to hear what happens next."

  They weren't the only ones. The expression on his face was one of pure, wicked confidence. She gritted her teeth. How was she ever going to get that blasted necklace back when he was guarding it with his—

  Luckily she was spared her next thought by a knock at the door. "Breakfast," she muttered on her way to answer the summons. "And put some clothes on, Chief. Your constituents are increasing again."

  She made it out the bedroom door without cracking a smile, but as soon as he smacked it shut behind her she let out a nervous giggle. This man had a way of raising her hackles and making her say—and do—the most outrageous things.

  "And as for cons," his indignant voice shot through the closed door, "you're the only one around here trying to con anyone."

  She sobered. Maybe he was right. Maybe she had gotten the wrong idea about him. Despite what TV liked to depict, chiefs of police did not get to that position aiding and abetting jewel thieves.

  "Beau, I'm not conning you," she answered guiltily after the room service had been set up and the waiter was gone. "And if you really knew what I was doing, you'd know that."

  The bedroom door opened and he emerged, buckling his belt. "Right. You're trying to con Remi. Same difference."

  "Not exactly." It was obvious he had no idea of her real objective. She bit her lip and straightened her back. "Beau, I'm an insurance investigator. I work for Moorefield Insurance. The New Orleans office."

  "Yeah, you said that." He paused as he tucked in a fresh undershirt. "So what would an insurance investigator want with—"

  She could see the exact moment he realized the truth.

  "My God. You've come to take down Remi!"

  "Sorry, Beau. I'm here to have him arrested."

  "Arrested?" Beau stared at Kit incredulously, his mind in a whirl. "You got a warrant?"

  "Um, no. You see—"

  He cut her off with a wave of his hand. Damn it to hell. An insurance jack! Why hadn't he figured that out earlier? Dieu. He'd been so caught up in his enthusiasm to reform and arouse her—and not necessarily in that order—that he'd been blind to a truth so obvious a swamp mole could have seen it. The woman was no criminal or con artist. She was a devious undercover investigator. And her target was one of his own family—and despite everything, his best friend.

  His head ached. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

  "I thought you might be working with him."

  "Me?" His brows shot up in surprise. "Why would you think that?"

  She glanced around the luxurious suite and pinned him with shrewd eyes.

  "Ah, I see. I have plenty of my own money, if that's what you're thinking. Earned the old-fashioned way. I don't need to dabble in thievery to afford a nice hotel room."

  "Then there was your little performance in Vegas."

  "Yes. Well—" Suddenly, he wasn't sure he should explain that bit of deception. Not that he had anything to hide. He just wasn't sure how he felt about this woman tracking down his cousin like some damn bounty hunter.

  No, that wasn't true. He knew exactly what he felt.

  Distrust.

  And, God help him, desire.

  * * *

  "Let's take a walk."

  They'd finished a tense breakfast and Beau had eventually banked his anger into something more useful—restless energy. He was anxious to get down to the marina. He knew Remi kept a boat on the West Coast, and if Remi was here in San Diego, Beau would bet good money his cousin was living on the Trinket.

  Kit stretched in her chair and sent him a virtuous smile. "My flight was really early this morning. If you don't mind, I'll stay here and catch a quick nap."

  "Do I look stupid to you?"

  "What?" She looked the soul of innocence. He knew better.

  "You're after my cousin, that's what. And until I can figure out what to do about this situation, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

  She made a noise of disbelief. "What are you going to do, handcuff me to the bed?"

  He blinked. Now, how did she know that since their encounter earlier he hadn't been able to shake the picture in his mind of exactly that?

  He chased away the traitorous image and shook his head. "I'm sure that won't be necessary. Not if you cooperate," he added for effect.

  "I've told you, I don't want anything from you except the necklace. Let me buy it back."

  "No dice. This is my family we're talking about, and I don't want you messing with Remi. You're not going anywhere."

  "You can't stop me from leaving and getting my own room, Beau. That's called kidnapping."

  "The hotel's booked solid. You called down yourself." After breakfast she'd tried to book a room to no avail. He couldn't deny the twinge of excitement he felt at the prospect of having her in his room. "I promise to be a perfect gentleman if you stay."

  Her derisive snort told him what she thought the chances of that were. Hell, she might be right at that. Maybe he'd have to use those handcuffs on himself instead.

  "Come on, let's walk. I want to look for Remi's boat."

  At the mention of his cousin's name, her interest perked up, as he'd known it would. "He's got a boat here?"

  "That's what I want to fin
d out. On the way, you can tell me about your plan."

  "Dream on, Beaulieux."

  The hotel was only a block from Seaport Village, where the marina was located. The weather was beautiful—bright sunshine with a light breeze, puffy white clouds in the distance over the Pacific. Kit was beautiful, too, in a fetchingly short pink sundress and sandals, her blond hair sparkling in the California sun as she walked by his side. Beau caught himself whistling an old Beach Boys tune and smiled.

  "What are you going to do if you find Remi's boat?" she asked, interrupting his uncharacteristic slip into frivolity.

  "Talk to him."

  "You think he's here, then?"

  "That's what I heard in Vegas."

  "You still haven't told me why you were using his name at the casino."

  He stopped to lean against the rail overlooking the ocean. "Just to annoy him."

  She rested her elbows on the rail next to his and gave him a curious glance.

  He chuckled. "When we were kids, I was a bit of a hellraiser. We looked a lot alike in those days. More than now. Whenever I'd get caught, I'd pretend I was him. Used to fry him something fierce."

  "Imagine that."

  "He'd never let on, though." Beau stared at the calm surface of the harbor, feeling again the bond of their close boyhood friendship. "Always shrugged off the punishment. Said I'd do the same for him."

  "And did you?"

  He gave her a wry smile. "He liked playing the bad boy."

  "So you ended up chief of police with a lily-white reputation, and he ended up a jewel thief."

  "No one's ever proved he's a jewel thief."

  Her eyes flared. "You doubt it?"

  "What are you going to do if you find him?" he demanded softly. "Tell me."

  She flinched, but didn't try to back away. "If I tell you, will you tell Remi?"

  The question was so unexpected, for a moment he didn't know how to answer. Then frustration grabbed him by the gut. He had never experienced a conflict of interest like this before, never found himself having to choose between his duty as police chief and that as head of the Beaulieux family. He didn't like it one bit. Damn Remi for putting him in such an impossible position!

  "I don't know," he said honestly.

  A look of annoyance flitted across her face. Abruptly, she twirled and started toward the marina. "I understand."

  Surprised at her reaction, he watched her retreat.

  The miniskirt of her pretty pink sundress fluttered in the breeze and he suddenly found himself wishing things were different. He could like this woman. Really like her.

  Damn. Pushing off the railing, he set off after her. Kit Colfax was bad news. She was sweet and sexy, her motives obviously honest as the day long. Looking at it objectively, she was only doing her job. But he wasn't objective. She was determined to destroy a member of his family. It was his responsibility to protect that family. All of them. No matter how wrong he thought his cousin's actions might be.

  With that kind of conflict, there was no chance in hell of any sort of relationship with Kit. He should be staying as far away from this woman as he possibly could.

  "Kit! Wait!" he shouted, picking up speed to catch her.

  So why was he doing the exact opposite? "Kit!"

  Hell, if he didn't know better, he might think he was falling for her.

  The thought made him stop in his tracks and frown. Ridiculous. Simon Beaulieux didn't fall for women.

  Simon Beaulieux didn't believe in love.

  Love was an illusion. Two people sharing everything—minds, bodies, dreams and the work necessary to achieve them. Reality could never be that way. Women just wanted the dream part. They weren't willing to share the responsibilities needed to see dreams come true. Nobody he'd met, anyway.

  And that was fine. He'd be willing to accept a woman to share just the dreams, even if she played no role in building them. After all, what would life be without a family of one's own? But only after he had accomplished everything he had set out to do.

  Then, when the time came, he'd choose his mate carefully. Someone down-to-earth, who could ran the plantation and handle the family's many social obligations with grace. Someone traditional and feminine, who'd defer to his opinions and give him lots of children. Someone the whole family could approve of.

  Someone who would never, ever walk through a casino in her underwear.

  Or throw his cousin in jail.

  Groaning silently, he sprinted the distance she'd put between them and grabbed her, spinning her around to face him.

  It wasn't panic he felt in his heart when he looked into her iris-blue eyes. No, sir. He was perfectly calm and rational. There was no way he was interested in pursuing this crazy attraction. She was all wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

  And there wasn't a chance in hell he was falling for her.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  « ^ »

  "Beau?"

  Kit peered into Beau's eyes and watched myriad emotions flood through them. Emotions she couldn't begin to guess at, but of which she had the sinking feeling she was the cause.

  "Earth to Beau," she quipped, feigning a lightheartedness she didn't quite feel.

  "What? Sorry." He held her arms for a second longer, then dropped them. "I, uh…"

  His words trailed off and he looked away, almost desperately. For a terror-filled moment, the idea blossomed that he might be as confused over her as she was over him.

  But no. That couldn't be. She was just imagining things. They caught sight of the marina guard and he unlocked the gate to let them in. "Mr. Beaulieux's boat, the Trinket, is berthed at number sixteen, dock three."

  "Thanks," Beau said, and took her hand, leading the way.

  He wore another of those shamelessly exhibitionist undershirts, this time with tight, faded blue jeans. Hanging on his belt at the small of his back was a black leather case containing his handcuffs. Her heart skipped a beat at the potent combination of power and virility.

  She tugged at her hand to free it, but his fingers laced determinedly through hers: Suddenly he stopped and looked at her seriously.

  "What?"

  "If Remi's there, I promise I won't tell him who you are."

  She did her best not to look stunned. "Why not?" Gears started turning in her mind. What was he up to now?

  "Because I'm the law. And because if he sees you with me, that should be enough to make him suspicious of any scheme you throw his way later."

  Unfortunately, he was probably right.

  "You're with me, understood? And if you so much as utter the word jewel or anything that even remotely sounds like it, I'll bust your little game wide open."

  "Beau, it's my job, not a game. I must—"

  "Try anything—anything at all—and I'll…"

  "You'll what?" she retorted.

  "Don't cross me on this, woman. I mean it." His tone had just enough edge to gain her full attention.

  "What exactly are you worried I'll do with you standing right there?"

  "I don't know," he said irritably. "Just play my adoring lover and we'll get along fine."

  Her eyes widened as he turned and pulled her along toward berth sixteen. His adoring…

  "You're jealous!" she burst out, enlightenment dawning. "Of your own cousin!" Now there was an unexpected twist. "Why? Is he cute?"

  Beau halted so fast, she ran into him. "No, he is not cute!" he mimicked. "But I'm caught in the middle of this thing, and I'll be damned if I'll let either of you end up hurt because I can't use the good sense God gave me to come up with a solution to this mess."

  "Beau!" She stood speechless as he turned on a heel and stalked down the dock.

  It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her. Oh, the words were harsh and his manner gruff, but the sentiment behind them melted her heart like butter in sunshine. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him senseless, but he was four boats away by now and if she ran after him she'd surely trip
in her heels and break her silly, love-struck neck.

  She tipped her head back and looked up into the brilliant heavens, blinking furiously. Was it really possible to be love struck after knowing someone for only three days?

  Silently, she groaned. "Struck dumb" suddenly took on a whole new meaning. How could this have happened? How could she have been so vulnerable? There was no place in her life for the kind of feelings Beau had somehow succeeded in waking in her. She'd made her decision long ago. Romance had only brought grief to her life, and she was determined not to let that happen again. Especially with someone like him.

  She had to think of her job, the only meaningful thing in her life. She must close this case. She would solve this case. And afterward she would never see him again. There was no use tempting herself with things that would never—could never—be. She liked her life just the way it was.

  Just exactly the way it was.

  She thrived on the travel, the excitement, the challenge of her work. She liked being on her own, answerable to no one but herself. There was no room in that paradigm for a permanent male fixture. Especially one as strong and unbending as Simon Beaulieux. Someone rich and influential, just as her ex-fiancé had been.

  Men like that only wanted to tie a woman down. Demand she give up her own hopes and aspirations, her career and her freedom. Insist she devote herself to his world, pour all her energies into furthering his dreams. And when she refused, he'd betray her, deliberately sabotage her job so she'd lose it, so it would never be possible to recapture all those lost goals she once had.

  Powerful men just didn't understand a woman's need to have her own successes. Her own life and dreams. They were selfish and manipulative, stopping at nothing to get what they wanted.

  No, she'd really have to toughen up her guard around Beau. One slip and she'd be handing him her life on a platter. Just like last time.

  Not a good move. Definitely not a good move. When she caught up with him at the Trinket, she had managed to salvage her composure. He was industriously scrawling a note on a Juicy Fruit gum wrapper he'd found on the deck. When he was done, he lodged the wrapper between the cabin door and the sill.

  "Remi's not here?" she asked, looking around the trim cruiser.