Thieves Like Us Part 9

"What were you thinking?! You were supposed to stay here where you'd be safe!"

Janet narrowed her eyes at Rocky from across Elizabeth Westfield's living room. "I was thinking I have a job and it might be nice if I did it before the company tanked. I was thinking I wasn't going to work my b.u.t.t off to save Aims Air Freight only to lose it because you want me to be a virtual prisoner in this house. That's what I was thinking."

Her answer did nothing to quiet the storm roiling across his face. "You knew people were after you!"

He hadn't lowered his voice, so she raised hers to match. "I knew they were after the jewelry! I don't have the jewelry!"

She would have used stronger language, but Libby was listening, watching the argument from the sofa with the attention she might give a champions.h.i.+p tennis match. Janet saw her expectant gaze dart back to Rocky for the return volley, but Elizabeth interrupted the tirade.

"I'm sorry, Roberto. It's partly my fault. I should have stayed with her."

They all started to contradict her, but it was Ben who spoke first. "It's not your fault, Liz. Janet's a big girl."

"Thank you." At least someone didn't want to treat her like a child.

"She can take responsibility for her own stupid choices."

She shot Ben an angry glare, one that clearly demanded to know whose side he was on. He stared back in cop mode, arms crossed, implacable gaze drilling holes through her, making the answer clear. He was on Rocky's side.

She threw up her arms. "Doesn't anyone care that I stayed calm and got myself out of a very dangerous situation? And what do I get for it? Two traffic tickets and a lecture!"

In the hostile silence that followed, Libby finally offered, "I think what you did was way cool."

Janet gave her a halfhearted smile. "Thanks."

Elizabeth touched her arm, forcing her to meet the firm parental look. "We're all grateful that you were quick witted enough to survive, Janet. We care about you."

Elizabeth was as collected as ever, even though Janet knew she loved her like a daughter. At least she treated her like one. And she supposed her own father would react to her brush with death a lot like Ben had, with relief followed by barely restrained anger. The depth of his concern warmed her even as it made her feel guilty. But Rocky . . .

She raised her eyes under lowered brows, taking in the flushed complexion and firmly clenched jaw that revealed his simmering temper. She'd never seen him so furious. She knew he cared about her, but she hadn't realized just how much.

With an impatient sigh, she said what she knew she had to say, whether she meant it or not. "Sorry," she muttered. "I won't do it again."

"d.a.m.n right you won't," Rocky said.

She fixed him with a cool look, keeping her voice low. "Don't press your luck, Hernandez."

Ben interrupted their glaring contest. "Janet, part of the reason we're worried is the way they went about this. This was more than a warning. It was bold and daring, an attack in broad daylight that could have injured or even killed you. That's not what I would expect from some cat burglar looking to find the remaining Pellinni Jewels."

"Exactly," Rocky said with a fierce nod. "There's something else going on here."

They were the experts on crime and criminals, so she'd take their word for it. She turned to Ben, who seemed the friendlier of the two at the moment. "Like what?"

"I don't know." But the quick look he threw at Rocky said he had an idea, and Rocky knew about it. She darted suspicious glances at each of them, but both had their lips pressed into tight lines, obviously not willing to share with the others.

She gave a toss of her head, forgetting there was no hair left to swing in a haughty arc. Flipping her bangs probably reduced the dramatic effect. "I'm sure you won't mind if I leave. I missed dinner and I'm starving." She made sure Rocky received the brunt of her disdainful look before she stalked out.

Rocky left in the opposite direction, stomping outside where he stood in the dark beside his car, arms folded, fuming over Janet's stubborn att.i.tude. He doubted all their lecturing had made any difference-she would still follow up on the next idea that popped into her head, no matter how dangerous.

She'd always been that way. It had worked for her-a risky, bold maneuver had saved her life when Banner had tried to have her killed. Another one had helped bring his illegal schemes to an end. There was no reason to think she'd change her ways now. Rocky would be better off keeping her close and watching out for her than trying to dissuade her from helping.

But d.a.m.n it, she could get hurt. Or worse. And he couldn't live with that.

He also couldn't control her actions-Janet would never speak to him again if he tried. Besides, he wouldn't be nearly so attracted to her if she were the type to wait for guidance every time there was a crisis. He liked her initiative and courage. It's just that it was killing him.

Perhaps his only option was to admit it.

The kitchen was silent except for the low hum and swish of the dishwasher. Janet flipped on the low wattage lights that ran beneath a cabinet, enough to find a plate and silverware while still letting her stew in the gloom that suited her mood. Light reflected dully off stainless steel appliances and floated in a dim glow over the granite countertops. The semidark was a soothing balm after the tension in the brightly lit living room.

Knowing that Michael, Elizabeth's high-priced chef, would have saved leftovers for her, she rooted through the covered dishes in the refrigerator, coming out with something that looked like wild mushroom risotto with chicken. She lifted the lid and sniffed-finally, something good about her day. She spooned some onto a plate, nuked it, and poured herself a gla.s.s of white wine. The barstools at the island countertop seemed to suit solitary dining better than the dining room table. Settling in, she took a large forkful and closed her eyes, appreciating Michael's culinary artistry.

"Janet."

She nearly choked, and quickly gulped some wine before she could speak. "You scared me," she accused.

Rocky crossed the shadowy kitchen. The dim room matched his black hair, dark eyes, and generally p.i.s.sy mood.

He stopped beside her, the tall barstool putting them at nearly the same eye level. She took another bite of risotto to hide her discomfort.

"You're mad at me," he observed.

"No s.h.i.+t, Sherlock."

The side of his mouth twitched, but she couldn't tell if it was amus.e.m.e.nt or irritation. She stabbed more food with her fork.

"You scared the h.e.l.l out of me."

She stopped with the fork halfway to her mouth, then slowly lowered it. She hadn't expected to hear that admission, and his quiet statement held more power than if he'd yelled it. "Um . . ." She swallowed. Um, what? She wasn't about to apologize for saving her own life. "I didn't mean to."

"I know, you can't help it." He watched her closely, the low light enough to cast a gleam on his eyes, giving them an intensity she hadn't noticed earlier. It was slightly mesmerizing. "You don't panic in a crisis, and you don't wait for someone to save you. You take charge and save yourself. You always have." His gaze roamed her face, as if memorizing the details of each feature. She wanted to seem unimpressed by his attention, but she couldn't look away. "Last year, when I first listened to you tell us about how you escaped the drug dealers in Colombia, the ones who were supposed to kill you, I admired your self-reliance and determination."

"You did?"

He nodded slightly, almost to himself. "I don't anymore."

"What?" She set her fork aside, forgetting about the risotto. "Why not?"

"Because it's hard to admire what scares me to death. You're risking your life." His voice was low, almost grave. "I need you to stop it."

Her gaze kept drifting to his mouth, distracting her with the memory of what it felt like to be kissed by those lips. They were far more clever at scrambling her brain than she would have guessed. She wondered if they would have the same effect now, as irritated as he was with her. The thought distracted her from what he'd been saying. "Stop what?"

"Stop putting yourself in danger. Stop trying to handle everything yourself instead of trusting me to help you." His gaze wandered, too, lingering on her mouth, her hair, even her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, leaving tingling sensations everywhere it touched. Shadows moved along his jaw as muscles tensed. "Stop making me crazy, Janet."

She shook her head as if she were confused about what he meant. But she knew. She was starting to feel a little crazy herself.

He held her eyes with his, a force too strong to look away. With a start of recognition, she knew what would happen next. She felt it growing between them like a volcanic eruption, building deep below the surface and getting stronger as it surged upward. The longer they waited, the stronger it got. She trembled, wanting him to do it now, wanting him . . .

But he wouldn't. He'd told her long ago that it had to be her move.

Someone had inched closer, maybe both of them. His face was nearer, his breaths faster and deeper than hers. In fact, she wasn't sure if she was breathing at all. But who needed air? The energy between them was more than enough to sustain her.

Closing her eyes and sucking in a slow breath, she leaned forward and laid her lips against his. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, pressing gently with her mouth, Janet reached for his neck and let her tongue play against his lips.

His arms closed around her in a hungry embrace. One hand hauled her against him, while the other reached up to cup her head. His kiss opened her mouth, plunging past her gentle beginning, demanding more. She gave it eagerly, meeting his tongue with hers, blending her delighted moan with his rumble of satisfaction. She would have slid off the stool, boneless and limp, if he hadn't held her in place to better devour her. Both hands moved to her hair, touching her cheeks, tilting her head to provide a new angle for his kiss.

He was as good as she remembered. Maybe better. She clung to his shoulders, taking whatever he gave. She gasped when he pulled away, melted when he kissed her cheeks and forehead, and sighed against his lips when they touched her mouth again, softer this time. When he finally broke the kiss she kept her eyes closed, waiting for her heart to stop pounding against her rib cage.

She hadn't expected to feel that needy, that vulnerable. What had happened to her defenses? "I still don't like you," she whispered, trying to believe it.

His lip ticked up again. "Okay."

She looked away, suddenly self-conscious about how quickly she'd come apart in his arms.

With the hand that still cupped her head, he tilted her forward to place a kiss on top of her head. "Please don't leave this house, Janet. Promise me."

She nodded.

"I'll call you tomorrow."

She watched him go, then stared at the plate of risotto, now merely the second best thing that had happened to her all day. She'd finish it in a minute. Right now she wanted to savor the lingering taste of Rocky. She had a feeling she was going to become much better acquainted with it in the near future.

The Westfield mansion had felt more like a mausoleum than a home when Janet had lived there with Banner. Now, with her intimidating husband gone and Libby in temporary residence, the house took on an entirely different feel, reflecting the confidence Libby had gained during her time with Jack and Ellie. The girl's presence could not be ignored.

Janet's first impression of Ellie's stepdaughter had been one of introspection and shyness, but Libby had blossomed in her new setting in Bloomfield Hills. She lit up any room like a bright fountain, bubbling nonstop with conversation and energy. And when she was out of sight, the pounding of footsteps on the stairs, the blast of music from the media room, or the laughter from phone conversations filled the empty rooms. The difference in the Westfield home enchanted Janet, and it was obvious that Elizabeth enjoyed it even more. The woman had mellowed remarkably since the days when she lived with Banner, to the point where Janet suspected she was even warming to the unexpected addition of Jingles to the household.

Unfortunately, cats never knew where to draw the line. Janet watched him wrap around Elizabeth's ankles as her exmother-in-law stood at the stove, fixing a cup of tea. Janet bit her lip, waiting for the cat to get shoved aside and hoping it would be gentle.

"Good morning, Jingles." Elizabeth's dignified greeting carried no trace of the high-pitched, animated voice most people use with pets and babies. She might just as well have said, "Good morning, Peters," with the exception that her butler's likely response would not have been a regal strut around the kitchen island. Janet watched her cat with amus.e.m.e.nt, enjoying his confident a.s.sumption of power in the Westfield household.

Until he pa.s.sed the barstool, and her mind slipped. Memories from last night flashed back with a suddenness that s.n.a.t.c.hed her breath and pushed her pulse into overdrive. Images of touching her lips to Rocky's, pressing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against the hardness of his chest, and melting into him in the most mindless and soul-searing kiss of her life flooded her senses.

Heat rushed over her. She lowered her face, shoving a forkful of food into her mouth and hoping Libby and Elizabeth wouldn't wonder how Belgian waffles with strawberries could cause such furious embarra.s.sment. d.a.m.n, she might have kept her long hair if she'd known she'd be doing things that made her want to hide behind it.

Fortunately, Libby had her own pressing concerns and had stopped her grandmother before she could escape to the patio with her tea. "Can I spend the night at Ginny Anderson's?"

"No, dear. I'm afraid I don't know the Andersons."

"You don't have to. Dad and Ellie let me stay there all the time."

"Well, I can't call and ask them, so you'll have to wait until they get back."

"But that's two weeks! That's so unfair." Libby scowled at her breakfast. "It's like I'm a prisoner here."

"Yes, conditions are quite brutal," Elizabeth agreed, casting a look around the expansive kitchen and the sparkling pool visible through the French doors. "However, once you finish your tennis lesson, you may invite Ginny to spend the night here."

Libby thought it over. "Can I invite April, too?"

"No. One friend, nonnegotiable."

Libby sulked for two more seconds. "Okay. Right after tennis."

Elizabeth escaped outside, no doubt intending to enjoy some solitude while she could. Libby sighed, rolled her eyes, and gave Janet an exasperated look. "That's what blows about getting dumped here. No social life."

Libby's standards had changed since coming to live with her father and falling into the Payton-Westfield fortune. Her first twelve years of life, when Jack hadn't known she existed, had been spent with her financially strapped grandparents and aunt. Since leaving them, she'd had a crash course in every sport or talent she cared to try. She took more lessons than anyone Janet knew. Between that, school friends, and her grandmother's country club members.h.i.+p, it was a wonder Libby wasn't looking for a break from her hectic social life. "What's so special about staying at Ginny's house?"

Libby leaned forward. "She has a Wii and an Xbox! Almost all my friends have at least one of them."

"You don't?"

Her eyes widened at the horror. "No! Can you believe it?"

Knowing what conscientious parents Ellie and Jack were, she could. "I imagine your parents would rather have you do something better with your time."

Libby's suspicious look said Janet had just aligned herself with the enemy. "Yeah, that's what they say. But I think they have another motive."

Of course she did. The girl a.n.a.lyzed everything. "What's that?"

Libby gave her a sly look. "It's 'cause they want to be alone together."

The emphasis on "alone together" made it obvious Libby didn't think they were watching TV. Having to take the time to swallow her food meant Janet didn't blurt out the first thing that came to mind, which was What do you know about their s.e.x life? Libby was probably fis.h.i.+ng for information as much as showing off her sophistication. With admirable calm, Janet sipped her juice and said, "I don't see the connection."

"It's obvious. If I ask to go to my friends' houses all the time so I can play their Xbox, then Dad and Ellie have our house to themselves." She arched an eyebrow, trying to look coolly mature, but Janet saw a blush creep into her cheeks. "I'm thirteen and a half. I know what's going on when I'm not there."

Janet couldn't think of anything to say. The kid was probably right. Jack and Ellie had been married for less than a year, and it was obvious to everyone how madly in love they were. Plus, from what Ellie said, living with a teenager hadn't put a dent in her s.e.x life. Libby might very well have discovered why.

Janet made a contemplative sound and refused to comment. She wasn't going to get pulled into another discussion about Libby's current favorite topic. Which probably meant she was going to have to avoid the girl. That could be a problem. Having agreed that the outside world was temporarily a dangerous place to be, she was effectively grounded, stuck in the house with Libby, who only had a tennis lesson to distract her. And her friend Ginny.

G.o.d, two of them. This could be bad.

"Excuse me, I have to make a call." Janet ran upstairs, dug into her purse, and found the slip of paper with Rocky's phone number. Pulling out her cell phone, she committed the number to speed dial as she called him.

"Red Rose Security." His voice was competent and businesslike. She was probably interrupting him at work.

"Rocky, you have to save me."

She heard noises as something was dropped or put down hastily. "What happened?" More clunking sounds. There was an edge of panic in his voice. "Where are you?"

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be, and nothing happened. Yet. But it will, if I have to stay here all day with Libby and her hormone-saturated friend. Get me out of here."

She heard an exasperated sigh. "Jesus, don't scare me like that. I thought there was a real problem. What's wrong with Libby? She's a great kid."

"She's obsessed with s.e.x."

He chuckled. "She's thirteen, Janet."

"She's trying really hard to be thirty. And it's not funny. I don't care to answer questions about my s.e.x life. Her parents are supposed to handle that subject."

"Yeah? What questions? And what did you tell her? In lurid detail, please."