Читать книгу Risking It All - Cara Summers - Страница 12

WITH A HAND firmly pressed against the nerves jittering in her stomach, Natalie closed the door to the balcony behind her and took two steps into the office above Sophie’s shop.

So much for the hope that the attraction she felt for Chance Mitchell had faded with time and distance. His absence from her life might not have made her heart grow fonder, but it had sure increased the lust factor.

One look, one meeting of eyes at a distance of some twenty feet had her nipples tightening and muscles she hadn’t even known she had clenching deep inside of her. If he could do that to her with a look, what would happen if he touched her, kissed her, made love to her again? At the image that filled her mind, an arrow of pleasure, hot and sweet, streaked right to her center. Natalie lowered her hand from her stomach to the spot where she throbbed and reminded herself to breathe.

There was no need to panic. She could handle this—because she was Rachel Cade. Drawing in a deep breath, she moved toward the antique mirror in the far corner of the room. All she had to do was get into character the way she did for a job. She met the eyes of the woman who stared back at her from the silvered glass and let the tension ease from her shoulders. She could barely recognize Natalie Gibbs at all. Rachel Cade had straight blond hair. Natalie’s hair was red and had a tendency to curl. Rachel’s eyes were blue. Natalie’s were green. Rachel was wearing a dress—what there was of it—that Natalie never would have bought.

In front, the thin black silk covered her from breast to midthigh, and the back was bare from neck to waist except for a narrow strap that went over the shoulder. Oh my, no. She smiled at her reflection. Natalie Gibbs would never have worn this dress because she held men at arm’s length and dressing like this would have been counterproductive.

Rachel Cade didn’t have any hang-ups about men. Thank heavens! With a smile, she watched Rachel push her hair back behind her ears. It wasn’t a wig. Midsummer in D.C. was far too hot for that. So she’d had it dyed and flat-ironed. Her hairdresser had had to double up on his anxiety medication, but she’d been firm about the color change. Besides, if she was going to take Sierra’s advice and be someone else, even for a short period of time, she was going to go all the way. For the next few days, she was Rachel Cade. She’d arranged to take the time off that her partner, Matt Ramsey, had been pushing her to enjoy. No sense in doing something unless you were willing to risk anything it takes.

She shook her head and watched her hair settle back into place. This was her chance to see if blondes really did have more fun and if gentlemen preferred them.

After fishing lip gloss out of her bag, she slicked it on. This was what she’d always most enjoyed about being a cop—the opportunity it gave her to become someone else for a while. It was a weakness, she knew, but it was also very liberating. And becoming Rachel Cade was especially so. When she did undercover work, the persona she created was often dictated by the job, but she’d had complete freedom with Rachel. The tall blonde staring back at her from the mirror was a distant cousin of the Gibbs sisters. She’d come from her home in South Florida to visit for two weeks.

Natalie had never been to South Florida in her life, so she’d read up on it. Not that she expected Chance to give her a pop quiz, but in a good undercover operation, one always had to be prepared, just in case.

Just thinking about him had an image of Chance slipping into her mind. The tuxedo he was wearing certainly enhanced that long rangy body….

No. She wasn’t going to go there, or she’d be stuck in this room all night imagining what it would be like to get her hands on him again. Natalie might be satisfied with a fantasy life, but Rachel preferred the real thing. She gave herself one last glance in the mirror as she reviewed her plan. Rachel Cade—blond ambition and material girl all rolled into one—wanted to have a hot, wild and mutually satisfying night—or two or three—with Chance Mitchell. He would have fun. She would have fun. And they could go their separate ways.

Luckily, that would never bother a girl like Rachel. She would just move on to the next man. Oh, she was going to like being Rachel Cade. After beaming one last smile at the girl in the mirror, Natalie walked to the door.

“YOU DON’T LOOK like you’re having a very good time.”

As usual, Chance hadn’t seen or heard his friend Tracker approach. “I haven’t yet spotted my quarry.”

“She’ll be here. Her sisters arrived about twenty minutes ago with a cousin who’s visiting from South Florida. Sophie took them on a quick tour. She’s out-done herself with this place, don’t you think?”

Chance glanced at his friend, intrigued by his tone that contained a mix of pride, approval, and… Searching for a word, all he could come up with was loyalty. “You haven’t even tied the knot yet, and you’re beginning to sound like an old married man.”

“Yeah.” A man of few words, Tracker thought for a minute. “Yeah.” He didn’t sound a bit displeased. “By the way, I developed those pictures we took on our fishing trip. Looks like there are only the two sentry stations we spotted, but I’m betting he has other guards patrolling the beach. It won’t be a piece of cake, but I can get you off the place by water. Any word on when you leave?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

Tracker shot him a look. “You’re cutting it close. What if Natalie doesn’t agree to go?”

“I’ll just have to make her an offer she can’t refuse.” Chance’s gaze drifted to the flight of stairs that ran up the far wall of the store. He knew there was one display room on the second floor and another, smaller space where Sophie kept an office. His mystery woman had to be up there.

“Natalie’s sisters are right over there if you want to ask them when she’s expected to arrive.”

Dragging his eyes from the stairs, Chance shifted his attention to where Tracker was pointing.

“The blonde is the academic,” Tracker said. “Her name’s Sierra and Mac says that there was quite a buzz when both the anthropology department and the psychology department at Georgetown hired her. And the short dark-haired one is Rory. She’s a freelance writer. If you want, I can introduce you— Uh-oh, Sophie’s giving me a signal. You’re on your own.”

The moment Tracker began to make his way through the crowd, Chance opted to edge his way along the wall to where the two Gibbs sisters were standing and surveying the party. But reaching them was easier said than done. Two major hurdles stood in his path—a group of women and a tall potted tree. He began to edge his way around the women.

“This is such a crush,” a tall brunette said. “I’m going to have to come back when I can really see this place.”

“Me, too,” another woman said.

“Look, over there. Isn’t that Mame Appelgate who writes a column for the Washington Post? All it will take is a mention from her, and it’ll be a crush here tomorrow, too.”

Chance found himself temporarily wedged between the wall and a potted palm. Through the leaves, he could see Sierra’s cheeks were flushed, and she shook her head as Rory offered her something from the well-stocked plate she was holding.

“I can’t eat,” Sierra said.

“Relax. Natalie will be fine,” Rory managed around a mouthful of pastry.

Sierra glanced at her watch. “I think you should go upstairs and check on her.”

Though he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, Chance moved closer.

“Uh-uh. I value my life too much,” Rory said. “Besides, she said she only needed a few minutes to get in character. You know Nat. She doesn’t like to appear as a new ‘persona’ until the disguise is perfect and she’s had a chance to assume her new persona. Harry was like that, too. Remember the game he played with us when he would show up at the door and we wouldn’t be able to figure out who he was?”

“Nat always knew,” Sierra said.

“Just like I always knew when he was bluffing at poker.” Rory paused with a shrimp halfway to her mouth to sigh. “You know, I still miss him.”

“Me, too,” Sierra said. “Have you thought about when you’re going to open your letter?”

“No. I figure I’ll know when the time is right. But I’m going to wait until Natalie has had her adventure. I’ll need both of you there when I do.”

“Yes,” Sierra agreed. “I will, too.”

Rory studied the food on her plate and then offered it to Sierra again. “Come on. You’ll feel better if you eat something.”

“I’m too nervous,” Sierra said. “I just feel so responsible for this. I suggested the plan.”

Rory reached out a hand to pat her sister’s arm. “I’m sure Dr. Frankenstein felt the same way right after he threw the electrical switch for the first time.”

“Not funny.”

Rory rolled her eyes. “Nat is going to be fine. And your plan is brilliant. Pretending to be someone else is the perfect ticket for her. For a little while, she can leave all of her responsibilities behind and be someone entirely different. As soon as my job at Celebs is more secure, I may try a masquerade thing myself.” She tossed a morsel of food into her mouth. You’ve really got to try these crab puffs.”

Masquerade. Chance tried to make sense of the thoughts swirling through his mind as he replayed the snatch of conversation he’d just heard. Natalie Gibbs was adopting a new persona? She was going to be someone else for a while? Chance scanned the crowd, this time more carefully than he had before. He’d seen Natalie Gibbs in an undercover disguise twice. She was good, but he should be able to spot her.

He made one full circuit of the store and came up empty. Frustrated, he moved out onto the patio. Immediately, a ripple of awareness moved through him. Natalie. But when he turned, it wasn’t Natalie he saw. It was his blond mystery woman from the balcony. Even then, he might have continued his search for Natalie. But the blonde chose that particular moment to shove her hair behind her ear, something that he’d seen Natalie Gibbs do countless times. He dropped his gaze to her feet. Sure enough, one of them was tapping. That was another habit Natalie had.

Then he simply stared. Could it be? Was this the disguise that Sierra and Rory had been referring to? Could his blond mystery woman be Natalie Gibbs?

Chance accepted a drink from a passing waiter and sipped without tasting what he’d chosen. He had to think, and the first step would be to unglue his eyes from his mystery woman’s legs. He was not going to find the answer to his question there. He shifted his gaze slowly upward.

Gestures aside, this woman was a sharp right turn from the Natalie Gibbs he knew. But his gut instinct, which rarely failed him, was telling him that the detective he was searching for and the blonde he was looking at were one and the same person. The light was no better than it had been before, but he was closer, and there was no balcony blocking his view.

Over the years, he’d honed his observation skills, but they’d seldom brought him more pleasure. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her mouth slick and cherry-red. During the time he’d spent with Natalie, she’d either been disguised as a man, or had been wearing muted makeup colors. He wasn’t close enough to make out the color of her eyes. Natalie’s, he recalled, were a deep shade of bottomless green, but he was willing to bet that the blonde’s were a different color. When a professional put on a new persona, he or she went all the way and changed everything that could possibly be changed.

Like the hair. Natalie’s was red and long and curly. He’d thought of an exploding sunset the first time he’d seen it. The blonde’s hair, shorter and straight, with the finish of newly spun silk, held its own attraction. The slick fall of it tempted a man to touch, and once he did, there would be all that smooth skin to explore. Then there were those legs—his gaze slipped back to them. They were nothing short of miraculous.

It occurred to him that he’d never seen what Natalie Gibbs looked like in a dress because she’d always hidden her feminine figure beneath trousers and a jacket. His mystery woman didn’t seem to believe in hiding anything. The contrasts fascinated him. Natalie Gibbs was all work. His mystery woman shouted “play.” Detective Gibbs’s sex appeal, out of sight beneath pantsuits, was muted like the steady hum of a current along a wire. The blonde’s sex appeal snapped and crackled around her like static electricity.

A man was bound to be burned if he got too close. And he was being drawn as inevitably as a moth. He’d already moved halfway across the patio toward her, and he still hadn’t decided how he was going to handle her. Oh, this was Natalie Gibbs all right. Hadn’t he known it on some level from the first moment he’d spotted her and felt that tiny click of recognition? This Natalie was the one he’d discovered when they’d made love in her apartment that night three months ago.

Just what kind of a game was she playing?

A warning voice told him to wait until he’d weighed his options and come up with a strategy. But the inner voice he’d always trusted was reminding him that he did his best work when he played it by ear.