day tomorrow.” She started to hang up, then added, “Don’t follow me.”
“It’s not you I’m interested in.”
Nice. “You might have charmed the socks off my aunt but you’re not winning any brownie points with me, buster.”
His low chuckle sounded close, as if his mouth was right next to her ear, sending a shiver across the back of her neck. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Not if I see you first.” Maddie clicked her phone off and tucked it back in her purse. She drove out of the circular driveway and paused at the street. Nagging doubt almost made her turn the car back toward the jewelry shop. No, why should she listen to a man she knew nothing about? Indicating left, she headed for home. For all she knew, he might be trying to set a trap, getting her there alone so he could steal the diamond.
* * *
Fabian shook his head as she turned in the wrong direction. He didn’t know why her inexplicable antipathy bothered him so much. She was hardly his type. He preferred more sophisticated women. But her dislike was more than a prick to his ego—it was a nuisance. It also made her a liability if she continued to do the opposite of everything he told her.
If he could have managed this operation without her, he would have. Unfortunately, he needed her expertise if he was going to thwart the Chameleon in his latest caper. Caper. The word had a jaunty ring to it that belied the dark currents driving the jewel thief. If only—
Fabian broke off that thought before it could take hold. Dwelling on the past was futile and would to nothing to solve the present crisis.
Turning the key, he restarted the thrumming motor of the powerful car and experienced a thrill of satisfaction that was unabashedly testosterone-fueled. A rental vehicle that blended into the Ford and Toyota streetscape would have been more suitable but not nearly as much fun. Powerful cars were his weakness, his guilty pleasure. Someday the getaway speed might save his life.
His phone rang as he put the car into gear. Shifting back into neutral, he slid the BlackBerry out of his pocket and glanced at the familiar number on the screen. He’d wondered how long it would be before she tracked him down. “Hello, darling.”
“You’re not to call me that,” a deep voice purred seductively in direct contradiction to her words. Her voice was so low she was sometimes mistaken for a man, a mistake never made when confronting her in person. And definitely not when lucky enough to be taken to her bed—as Fabian had good reason to know, though it had been five years since he’d enjoyed that privilege. “You must be feeling guilty. Men are nicest then.”
“I never waste time with guilt, you know that. Anyway, I’m not at work now so I can call you anything I like.” Which of course wasn’t true.
The purr disappeared, replaced by cool, efficient tempered steel. “You’re in Melbourne, Australia. 85 Collins Street to be exact. What I don’t know is why you’ve gone AWOL. And why you neglected to inform me of your departure.”
“It’s a pet project of mine.” He paused before adding, “I need you to do something for me—find out when a man named Roland Price left Cape Town, where he entered Australia and what his movements were in between.”
“Who is Roland Price?”
“He’s a British subject living in South Africa.” Fabian slipped his hand into his pocket to touch the smooth gold case of the engraved cigarette lighter she’d given him after their first year together. It had been nearly a decade since he’d smoked but he kept it as a reminder of their lost love. And of who owned who. Although, like all relationships, it was more complicated than that.
“You don’t have time for pet projects. I have a new assignment for you.”
He brought out the lighter, flicked open the lid and rolled his thumb over the striker. A lick of yellow flame shot up in the plush darkness of the car’s mahogany and leather interior. He
“It’s not you I’m interested in.”
Nice. “You might have charmed the socks off my aunt but you’re not winning any brownie points with me, buster.”
His low chuckle sounded close, as if his mouth was right next to her ear, sending a shiver across the back of her neck. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Not if I see you first.” Maddie clicked her phone off and tucked it back in her purse. She drove out of the circular driveway and paused at the street. Nagging doubt almost made her turn the car back toward the jewelry shop. No, why should she listen to a man she knew nothing about? Indicating left, she headed for home. For all she knew, he might be trying to set a trap, getting her there alone so he could steal the diamond.
* * *
Fabian shook his head as she turned in the wrong direction. He didn’t know why her inexplicable antipathy bothered him so much. She was hardly his type. He preferred more sophisticated women. But her dislike was more than a prick to his ego—it was a nuisance. It also made her a liability if she continued to do the opposite of everything he told her.
If he could have managed this operation without her, he would have. Unfortunately, he needed her expertise if he was going to thwart the Chameleon in his latest caper. Caper. The word had a jaunty ring to it that belied the dark currents driving the jewel thief. If only—
Fabian broke off that thought before it could take hold. Dwelling on the past was futile and would to nothing to solve the present crisis.
Turning the key, he restarted the thrumming motor of the powerful car and experienced a thrill of satisfaction that was unabashedly testosterone-fueled. A rental vehicle that blended into the Ford and Toyota streetscape would have been more suitable but not nearly as much fun. Powerful cars were his weakness, his guilty pleasure. Someday the getaway speed might save his life.
His phone rang as he put the car into gear. Shifting back into neutral, he slid the BlackBerry out of his pocket and glanced at the familiar number on the screen. He’d wondered how long it would be before she tracked him down. “Hello, darling.”
“You’re not to call me that,” a deep voice purred seductively in direct contradiction to her words. Her voice was so low she was sometimes mistaken for a man, a mistake never made when confronting her in person. And definitely not when lucky enough to be taken to her bed—as Fabian had good reason to know, though it had been five years since he’d enjoyed that privilege. “You must be feeling guilty. Men are nicest then.”
“I never waste time with guilt, you know that. Anyway, I’m not at work now so I can call you anything I like.” Which of course wasn’t true.
The purr disappeared, replaced by cool, efficient tempered steel. “You’re in Melbourne, Australia. 85 Collins Street to be exact. What I don’t know is why you’ve gone AWOL. And why you neglected to inform me of your departure.”
“It’s a pet project of mine.” He paused before adding, “I need you to do something for me—find out when a man named Roland Price left Cape Town, where he entered Australia and what his movements were in between.”
“Who is Roland Price?”
“He’s a British subject living in South Africa.” Fabian slipped his hand into his pocket to touch the smooth gold case of the engraved cigarette lighter she’d given him after their first year together. It had been nearly a decade since he’d smoked but he kept it as a reminder of their lost love. And of who owned who. Although, like all relationships, it was more complicated than that.
“You don’t have time for pet projects. I have a new assignment for you.”
He brought out the lighter, flicked open the lid and rolled his thumb over the striker. A lick of yellow flame shot up in the plush darkness of the car’s mahogany and leather interior. He
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