The Art of Stealing Kisses - Stella London Page 0,37

doubt that we made in difference in their lives today. It feels great.

After the art show, St. Clair’s driver takes the scenic route along the Thames. I gaze out of the window, treated to a palette of colorful lights: the old buildings lit up, with the rainbow of the London Eye in an array of changing colors like a planetarium light show.

“Did you have fun tonight?” St. Clair asks. He takes my hand and squeezes it.

“I always have fun with you.” I realize how corny my answer sounds and cringe, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“I always have fun with you, too.” His reply is quiet, thoughtful. He seems contemplative for the rest of the drive, not really saying much until we’re back at his place again. There, St. Clair opens a bottle of wine, and we sit together on the couch.

“To another successful endeavor,” he says, raising his glass in a toast.

“To the show,” I agree, tapping my glass to his.

He takes a sip, still looking thoughtful. I wonder what’s going through his head. I start to get nervous. I’m not used to him being this way – not unless something’s wrong.

What if he knows I’ve been meeting Lennox?

My heart drops. Crap. If he knows about the clandestine meetings, he might think I’m betraying him. But isn’t that what I’m doing, the longer I entertain notions of him being the master criminal Lennox claims?

I sit, waiting, my heart beating faster, until finally St. Clair puts down his wine glass and looks at me straight on. The energy between us is all fired up from the night, from teasing each other and laughing the whole car ride home, but now I can’t get comfortable with him so close.

“Uh oh, you look serious. Should I be worried?”

He gives me a smile – not broad and flashy like the ones he gave everyone at the event tonight, but something private and sincere, just for me. “You make me happy, Grace.”

I gulp. Is this a break-up speech, or a ‘I know you’ve been meeting the feds behind my back’ speech, or what?

“I don’t often let people in,” he continues. “Well, more like never. It’s just easier that way, to keep focused on business, keep my personal life and professional worlds separate.”

Oh God, it is a break-up speech. I feel a pain in my chest, and I have to bite my lip to keep the tears from welling up.

“And then you came along. And everything I thought I knew went out the window.” St. Clair looks at me, and the tenderness in his eyes takes my breath away. “You’re like nobody I’ve ever met before, Grace. Your energy, your strength, your passion – for art, and the world around you. You haven’t let the world beat you down, you’ve kept striving for the life you want. You believe in the good in people. In me.”

He reaches down under the coffee table and pulls out a long black velvet box with a silver bow. I stare at it, dazed.

“I guess, I just wanted to show you what you mean to me.” St. Clair looks at me intently. “And when I saw this, I knew it belonged with you.”

He hands the box to me. With shaking fingers, I unwrap the bow and lift the lid open.

Oh my God.

I’m staring at the most incredible diamond necklace: a single perfect teardrop diamond pendant strung on a gorgeous gold chain. It’s absolutely breathtaking – and enormous.

“St. Clair,” I stutter. “I can’t…this is…”

“Don’t you like it?” his face falls.

“Are you kidding? I love it! But it’s too much, Charles—”

“Nonsense.” He smiles again. “It’s perfect for you.”

St. Clair takes the necklace and lifts it from the box. I turn, and my heart racing, and move my hair aside as he gently fastens the chain around my neck.

The diamond sits against my skin, sparkling, and perfect, and without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever worn.

“It’s incredible,” I whisper, still blown away.

He leans closer, and drops a kiss on the line of my shoulder. “So are you.”

I shiver, feeling the heat from his touch radiate through my body.

I turn, and find myself pressed up against him. He reaches out, and trails his fingertip around the diamond pendant – caressing my collarbone. My skin prickles with awareness, and when I look up, his eyes are fixed on mine. Dark and glittering. Midnight blue.

“I’m falling in love with you, Grace,” St. Clair murmurs, his voice deep with emotion. “I’ve been falling in love