farther than a mere kiss. “I couldn’t resist you,” she murmured, inordinately pleased with herself.
“You make me crazy, woman,” he muttered. “I don’t usually do this sort of thing, you know that.” He made it a statement. Watching her. He was still panting from their exertions, but he was telling her something important, and she realized it immediately.
“I know. I don’t either,” she said, her own breath catching a bit, realizing that they were both implying a deeper connection, an intimacy beyond the physical.
“I’m glad you see it,” he said, tracing a finger down her cheek. “Know it. Whatever this is,” he murmured, indicating the passion between them. “It’s more.”
“More?”
“Just more. More than I was looking for. More than I expected.”
She nodded and sat up farther to embrace him. They stayed like that for a long minute as their breathing leveled out. Finally, they cleaned up and helped one another set their clothes to rights. She made a move to straighten his tie, but he deflected it. “I don’t want to risk activating the mic,” he explained, a boyish grin slipping over his face. “No need to advertise our indiscretions, even if I’m not here in my official capacity.”
“No.” She grinned back, smoothing his lapels and refastening one of the studs that had slipped out of place. “That’s the last thing we’d want.”
She checked her makeup, noting that she looked flushed, and satisfied, but that nothing had run or smeared. Thank goodness for waterproof mascara and good cosmetics. Taking a small compact from her evening bag, she swiped a light dusting of powder over her nose.
“You look beautiful,” he said, running a light touch down her neck as she refastened one of the jeweled clips that held her hair.
“Just as long as I don’t look like I just had mind-blowing sex in a…” She looked around the small room. “Security waiting room,” she concluded. “Then we’re okay.”
“No, but you do look—” He cocked his head, considered.
A bit panicked, she looked at her mirror. She couldn’t see anything wrong. “What?”
“Delicious.”
She snorted out a laugh, “Stop. We have to get out of here before someone misses us.”
“I doubt we’ll be missed, seeing as how we’re not bigwigs.” He sighed dramatically. “But, I guess we must.”
They checked one another a last time, which was occasion for a bit more kissing and play, but eventually they slipped out the door and into the corridor, melding into the crowd without anyone being the wiser.
They were nearly to the mezzanine railing when a huge surge of noise and applause rang out. Shrill voices called out for silence, and to Ana’s surprise, the noise died down. Gates shot her a questioning look, but she had no idea what was going on.
Together they hurried to the upper mezzanine rail.
The phone rang, and Drake Yountz recognized the number. Jurgens. The party was in full swing so no one would miss him if he stepped out to take a call.
“Yes?”
“The job we discussed. I have someone. An insider.” Jurgens’s message was clipped, precise. “Already he has given me product.” Jurgens’s use of the term meant that the insider had been able to give him something or do something that would throw off the search, or deflect it away from any connection to him.
“Good. What else?”
“Your rival, he is under scrutiny, but I do not think it is sanctioned. He has—” Jurgens paused. Drake sensed strong disapproval when Jurgens spoke again. “He is in trouble with many people, some of them family.”
“Fascinating.” Drake let the word stretch out, pleased to know that Santini, his East Coast rival, was snared in something nasty. “Did you get his name? And the trouble, can we use it?”
“Ja.”
“Good. Start that going. Do you need resources?”
“No. I will work first.”
“Excellent,” Drake said. “The original party we were discussing?” He paused, waiting for Jurgens to figure it out.
Jurgens filled in the blank. “The woman?”
“Yes,” Drake agreed. “A guest this evening at my event. Quite lovely, really.”
“Huh. With the Greek?”
“His assistant.”
“Bromley,” Jurgens snarled. He didn’t like Bromley on principle, it seemed.
“Exactly. On the resources, let me know.” Drake nodded to a couple strolling down the terrace, turned his back, and murmured, “Is that all?”
“Ja. I’ll call.”
The line went dead, and he stood, contemplating the new turn of events. If his New York rival could be neutralized, or better yet, if he could be opened up to take the fall for all of the art-fraud cases, Drake could step away and no one would be the wiser. None of