CATCH ME IF YOU CAN Page 6

  "He'll call. I've left the phone number to our room." Their eyes met and tension crackled. He looked away. The buzz of the phone in her purse startled her. After a second's hesitation, she pulled the phone out and punched the on button. This should be interesting. "Hi, Ricky. What's up?"

  "Sorry I took so long getting back to you. I got sidetracked following an interesting lead. But you aren't going to believe what I found out about your Beau. He's the flu—"

  "Chief of police, yeah, he told me." She smiled reassuringly at Beau when he nailed her with a scowl.

  "He told you?"

  "Showed me his badge. His handcuffs, too."

  Beau stuck his fists on his hips.

  Ricky snickered. "Cool. Where are you staying?" She gave him the information under Beau's close scrutiny. No sense letting on she'd be out of there as soon as possible.

  "And that room, would it be under your name, or his?"

  The little pip-squeak. "His."

  "That was fast."

  "Don't be a wisenheimer. It's a suite." She toed the deck with a sandal. "Separate bedrooms."

  Beau took a step toward her, eyes narrowed. "Uh-huh. Did he also mention he's heir to a fortune going back to before the war? The Civil War."

  "More or less."

  "I take it he's off our list of coconspirators?"

  "I would say that's a yes."

  "So, have you gotten the necklace back yet?"

  "Still working on it."

  "He's rich as sin, Kit. It's obvious what the man wants. Make him a trade."

  She looked up into the man in question's eyes and swallowed. "That would probably be construed as attempting to bribe an officer of the law, Ricky."

  A muscle twitched in Beau's jaw. Suddenly, he grabbed the phone. "Look, are you done here?" he growled into it. "Because I don't like the direction this conversation is taking."

  Kit could only imagine the verbal backpedaling Ricky was doing, since Beau's face was about as expressive as granite.

  Inside, Beau was fuming. He stabbed the off button on Kit's phone and thrust it back at her, then took off down the dock. He couldn't believe what had just gone down—the two of them discussing her seducing him as if he wasn't standing right there listening. "That kid should be used for alligator bait."

  "He means well."

  He spun on her. "Don't play with fire, Kit."

  She gave him a look that spoke volumes. The problem was, he suddenly wasn't sure what the topic was. "Don't worry, I won't," she said in a firm voice.

  He opened the marina gate and held it for her, telling himself to calm down. He couldn't. "What else did he say?"

  "Nothing." Blowing through the gate, she perused the maze of tourist boutiques clustered around the marina. She looked back at him and took a deep breath. "Honestly, Beau, you don't have to get all bent out of shape. It's not like we haven't discussed the idea ourselves. He's a kid, but he's not oblivious."

  It took Beau a second to get his mental disarray back in order. He felt as if they were having at least three different conversations at once. "I won't be bribed, you know."

  "Yes, I know."

  "If we sleep together, it'll be for pleasure, not reward."

  She blinked, then turned purposefully toward the boutiques. "We aren't going to sleep together, Beau. Come on, let's look at some of these shops, okay?"

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and trailed her into a trendy clothing store. Of course they weren't going to sleep together. Hadn't he been telling himself exactly that for the past two hours? So why did that determined tilt to her chin make him want to sweep her into his arms and kiss her long and unrelentingly, until she begged him to do what they were both craving?

  The sound of rapid whispering behind the cash register brought him around, and he realized he was standing like a broken-nosed bouncer in front of a French Quarter strip joint, scowling at Kit as she flicked through the clothes racks.

  Forcing himself to smile pleasantly at both the male and female clerks who were ogling him—only in California—he eased off the hair trigger on his state of mind. Just because Kit had him tied in knots was no reason to behave like an ill-mannered boor. He was a civilized adult. He could handle this situation.

  He eyed the exit. Escape. That was the safest option.

  "Can I borrow your cell phone?" he asked Kit. "I need to make a couple of calls."

  "Of course," she said, digging the phone out of her purse.

  "Thanks. I'll reimburse you." He hurried outside before she could say another word. Dialing the number for Terrebeau, he sat on a brick wall and tried to remember if there was anything specific he needed to check on. The housekeeper answered.

  "Hi, Delia, it's Beau."

  "Mr. Simon, how's New Orleans?"

  He had led the family to believe he was downstate on police business, rather than go into explanations of why he was on leave, roaming the country looking for his cousin. "Just fine. Sorry I didn't get a chance to call yesterday."

  "Now, you know you don' need to be callin' home every single day, sometimes twice."

  "I feel better checking in. So, is everything going well?"

  "Right as rain, Mr. Simon. Mr. Gunny had a little fender bender yesterday, but nothin' to worry about. A few scratches on the paint job's all."

  "Was he having a rough day again?"

  A gunnery sergeant in Vietnam, Beau's dad had taken away more than a nickname when he'd left the army. Gunny still had a leg full of shrapnel and a mind that couldn't forget the horrors of war. Nobody blamed him for being a bit flaky since then, least of all Beau. Even if the circumstance had forced Beau to grow up a lot faster than he'd have chosen.

  "He got a long-distance phone call that upset him. Wouldn't talk about it, though."

  "I see. Well, I'll call the garage to have the car repainted. He wasn't hurt, was he?"

  "No, no. Other than his pride at your mama's lecture."

  Beau chuckled. "I can imagine. Is he home?"

  "No, they're both at bridge club this morning. Your mama wants to know if you'll be back from New Orleans for the Garden Club meeting next week. Luncheon speech, remember?"

  How could he forget? "I'll call her later today and let her know I'll be there. Is there anything you need, Delia?"

  "Not a thing. You just take care of business so you can come home soon. We miss you, Mr. Simon."

  Beau hung up in much better spirits. He always felt buoyed after calling home. The connection to his land was strong, and thinking about Terrebeau gave him a rush of energy—even from the other end of a phone line—enough to brighten any bad mood.

  He called Doug again, but the deputy was still out of the station and hadn't left any messages for him with the dispatcher. So he called the Verdigris garage to arrange for them to pick up his dad's car. He was just hanging up when Kit came out of the clothing store empty-handed.

  "What's this? All that time and you didn't buy anything?" Most of the women he knew would be loaded down with packages.

  She smiled and shook her head. "Too pricey for my budget. I just like looking and getting ideas. Old habit, I guess."

  At his questioning look, she said, "Back in Iowa I used to sew all my own clothes."

  Surprised on both counts, he asked, "Iowa?"

  "Mmm-hmm. Illusion, Iowa." She started strolling along the storefronts.

  He blinked. Shaking off the weird shiver that zipped down his spine, he caught up. "You're kidding."

  "I wish I were. Eighteen tedious years of pure boredom."

  "I take it you didn't care for growing up in Illusion."

  She stopped at a cookware store and peered into the display window. "Couldn't wait to get out. Give me the bright lights and big city anytime."

  Wincing, he made a disgusted face. "Not this country boy. Ain't nothin' finer in life than floatin' along the bayou with a fishin' pokie in one hand and a beer in the other." At her cute wrinkled nose, he added, "Unless it's a fishin' pole in one hand and une jolie fil
le, a pretty girl, in the other."

  "Smacking mosquitoes and dodging wild animals all the while, no doubt. Yuck. Sounds dreadful." She started walking again and he followed.

  "That's what cigars and blankets are for. And, hell, the gators up our way are so small, they're hardly worth bothering about." He grinned at her expression as she gaped at him.

  "Good grief, at least we only had tornadoes."

  He reached out and teased the hem of her dress with his fingers. "You come down to Verdigris, I'll protect you from the gators. I promise."

  She swatted his hands. "But who'll protect me from you?"

  Laughing, he pursued her. "I show you a good time out on d'bayou. Guar-ohn-teed," he assured, using his best Cajun drawl.

  "Come on, you," she said, giggling.

  He tagged after her, torn between keeping his distance and letting himself relax.

  She was so free of artifice—so unlike the well-polished, sophisticated women he was used to being around. She laughed with abandon and wasn't afraid to be wacky, trying on silly tourist hats and Groucho Marx glasses for his amusement.

  "Oh, look! Irises!" She stopped in front of a flower-shop window filled with exotic blooms. Five minutes later, they emerged carrying a small bag of iris bulbs for his grandmother.

  They continued walking. A little blue bikini in a swimwear shop turned his head. It was the exact blue of the silk lingerie Kit had worn at the casino. He stared at the bikini, imagining her body filling it, calculating how it would fit Wondering if he should buy it for her to find out.

  Dangerous territory. He doubted his battered self-control would survive a round with that bikini. He turned away from the tempting vision. "Come on, let's get back to the hotel."

  He had to remember why he was here. Kit was one problem he did not need right now. The minute he had Remi's promise to return Grandmère's jewels, he would be heading back to Verdigris. Home to his family, the place he belonged and the life he loved.

  A life, he realized with a sinking heart, that suddenly seemed a whole lot more drab and empty than when he'd left it just a few short days ago.

  * * *

  "How about a drink before dinner?"

  Kit looked up from the magazine she was not reading and smiled at Beau. "A glass of wine sounds nice."

  After shopping and lunch, they had returned to the suite to await Remi's call. It was nearly six o'clock and the phone still hadn't rung.

  Beau pulled a bottle of white wine out of the refrigerator and poured her a glass, then went into the bedroom and came back with a fifth of bourbon. "I think I'll go down the ball for some ice."

  As soon as he was out the door, she sprang into action. She ran into the bedroom, dragged her unpacked suitcase out of the closet, and hurried into the bathroom for a few things she'd left there. She knew she was being a coward, but she couldn't help it.

  Her current goal in life was to have his favorite cousin arrested. From everything he'd said, she knew Beau's family meant a great deal to him. There was no doubt in her mind he would somehow stop her from achieving her goal, intentionally or not. To have even a chance at saving her job, she had to get away from Beau. Pronto. And if that meant sneaking off while he went out for ice, she wasn't too proud to do it.

  As she snapped the locks on her suitcase, the phone rang.

  With a silent curse she lifted the receiver. "Hello?"

  There was a pause on the other end before a rich Southern voice asked, "Is this Simon Beaulieux's room?"

  So much for her clean getaway. "Yes, it is. But I'm afraid he's not in at the moment. Can I give him a message?"

  "And who might you be?"

  "I'm, uh … a friend. Is this Remi? He was hoping to hear from you."

  "How very impolite of my cousin to leave you tucked up all alone in his hotel room." His voice oozed like warm molasses from the jar.

  She gave a throaty chuckle. "Oh, he lets me out occasionally. Like tonight, for instance. We're planning to go for a drink somewhere down by the marina after, um, dinner."

  "Ah, for that I can recommend the Pelican. Right next to the wharf. Nice atmosphere. Dark, romantic…"

  She knew exactly where he meant. "Sounds perfect. When would you say is the best time to get a table?"

  "I happen to have a reservation for nine o'clock. Care to join me?"

  "I'd love to." She injected just a note of playful suggestion in her voice. "Shall I bring Beau, too?"

  He gave a naughty laugh. "Not if you can help it."

  Kit hung up, a plan quickly forming in her mind. And guilt quickly setting her stomach to roiling.

  "What are you doing?"

  She jumped. Beau stood in the bedroom doorway, ice bucket in hand, eyeing her suitcase.

  "I, uh, I thought I'd take a shower before dinner. Maybe change." She snapped the case open and pulled out a white dress with a low neckline and pearl buttons all the way down the front. She held it up for his approval.

  "Do you want to leave, Kit?"

  His expression was neutral, but he was unable to mask the emotion in his eyes. Hope mixed with apprehension. The man in him warring with the cop.

  "I should."

  "But do you want to?"

  "I…" During the afternoon she had tried a half-dozen times to bring up the subject of moving to her own room—at another hotel, if necessary—but he'd just given her one of those bone-melting Rhett Butler looks and changed the subject. And like a ninny she'd let him.

  "I would never keep you here against your will."

  She nodded. "Yes. I know."

  He hadn't touched her. Hadn't said an ungentlemanly word all day. But every second they were together, she felt the powerful attraction between them grow stronger, drawing them closer, pulling them toward the inevitable.

  "Anytime you truly want to go, just walk out the door."

  Again she nodded. "I will."

  "But I promise, if you stay, nothing will happen here unless you say it does."

  "I never doubted that, Beau." She also didn't doubt he expected to share her bed tonight. Men like Beau didn't sleep alone. And if she didn't do something quick to barricade herself against him, she'd probably welcome him in. She had no willpower against the man. No more than a thief for diamonds.

  But she'd made her choice the last time she'd almost been ensnared—her career, not romance, was her safest future. She had no intention of letting this voodoo magic man with his hot Southern comfort sabotage her carefully constructed life plan.

  "Stay with me, Kit."

  Somehow, she'd find a way to meet alone with Remi tonight. When Beau found out, he'd probably be so angry he'd throw her out himself. Problem solved.

  She gave him a weak smile. "I'll stay. For now."

  His shoulders lowered a notch. "Good. Now close that suitcase and come have some wine."

  * * *

  At ten minutes to nine, Kit still hadn't figured out a plan of escape. They'd had dinner and were now sitting on the balcony enjoying the spectacular view of the harbor.

  "I don't understand why Remi hasn't called." It was the tenth time Beau had made the impatient remark. "I know he was expecting me."

  Kit shifted in her seat, her freshly ironed white dress sliding up her thigh. "Maybe he got busy. Or had a date. Any number of things could be preventing him from calling."

  "I just want to get this over and done with."

  "Sounds ominous. What could be that awful?"

  "Just a bit of family business." Leaning back in his chair, he took a sip of his bourbon. "So, tell me, how do you intend to trap my cousin?"

  Panic threaded through her, until she remembered he couldn't possibly know about Remi's call. "His own greed will trap him. I just intend to be there to nab him when it does."

  Leisurely, he lit up a cheroot and took a drag. "Darlin', I may be a small-town cop, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out what you're up to. Just don't make me arrest you, all right?"

  "You're way out of your jurisdiction, C
hief."

  He glanced over. "You're walking a real thin line on this one, Kit. Don't forget, I've still got the necklace."

  "I don't need you to tell me how to do my job, Beaulieux." Swallowing her annoyance, she stood and went to the door. "I'm going out for some air."

  He took the cheroot from between his lips. "Will you be back?"

  Talk about walking a thin line. She wanted to go to him and run her hand over his cheek. Tell him her betrayal wasn't personal. That she had to do this to keep her job.

  She clamped her jaw tight. "My suitcase is still here. I'll be back."

  He didn't look happy when she strode out the door, but what could she do? She hadn't asked for things to turn out this way. This was exactly why she avoided entanglements with men. There was no room in her life for love. Relationships, even the most straightforward ones, always ended up hurting like hell.

  She'd tried a straightforward relationship once. When she'd first left home for a job in Chicago.

  Everything had been so new and exciting compared to Illusion. Michael Fontaine was an important client of the insurance company she worked for in Chicago. A wealthy stockbroker who had swept her off her feet.

  He was a dominant personality who liked things done his way. Because he had strong goals himself, she'd been attracted to him, and felt for the first time in her life that she'd found her soul mate. Her parents and friends in Illusion had not understood her need to get out and prove herself, to make it on her own. To have a career where her decisions mattered spelled the difference between success and failure in life. Michael had understood that Only too well.

  Whereas she'd seen him as the love of her life, he had recognized in her someone who would be a perfect companion for his career. He had used her need to succeed and prove herself to further his own goals. And he had proceeded to divert her energies and ambitions to that end.

  More and more, she'd been asked to choose between his dreams and hers. Finally she realized she would have to choose between them. She chose hers.

  Then came the final blow. Using his considerable influence, Michael had arranged to have her fired from her job, his leverage being the delivery of a new, very important client to the firm. More important than a rookie investigator.