Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
I lifted her off my lap and set her on her feet. Then I stood—carefully—tucked the guidebook in my pocket, and we left the busy café, turning to a side street, away from the crowds. We ducked down a quiet block along the beach, leaving the bustle even farther behind.
“Ready to place the order?” I asked.
All-business, no-flirt now, Ruby took her phone from her bag, blocked her number, and made the phone call we’d planned early this morning.
We needed to get inside Willow’s gallery to look around. Nighttime, while the gallery was closed and empty, would have been preferable, but there was too much security in the evenings in this section of town, with its stores, restaurants, and high-end hotels nearby. So, we’d have to find a way into Willow’s office during the day.
As Ruby made the call, I crossed my fingers, hoping all the pieces fell into place. Then I’d give her the jar of honey I’d snagged from room service just for her this morning. Fine, technically I’d lifted it. But really, that was what room service condiments were for—snagging for later. It was a little gift, but I still hoped she’d like the gesture, hoped it said I knew her. I hoped, too, that I could spend more time with her beyond this island tryst.
For now, I watched her order our distraction from a local place we’d found called Clementine’s Catering.
“This is Lynx O’Malley’s personal assistant,” Ruby said in a thoroughly professional voice that was, admittedly, sexy as sin. “I’m calling to confirm the lunch we ordered will be delivered to Willow’s Island Gallery.” She pushed her sunglasses up on the bridge of her nose. “In twenty minutes? Yes, that will be fine.”
Damned nice of Willow’s favorite artist to order in lunch, especially while he was unreachable at a meditation retreat.
The lunch decoy idea had been Ruby’s during our strategy session that morning. Her resourcefulness turned me on. She liked that I was rugged, her words, and I liked that she was clever. We were becoming a damn good team.
Scary thought.
But a sexy one too. And I needed to focus on the immediate tasks, not the many reasons I was attracted to Ruby Ashley.
With the order confirmed, we left the alley and returned to a main street, headed toward the church I’d scoped out earlier. We walked past a sandwich shop boasting Caribbean-themed panini served on the patio under a red-checked awning.
I stopped there, since we were getting close to our destination. “Let’s review,” I said. “You’re my lookout from the church. If you see or hear anything, or if anyone outside the gallery or inside starts to move, text me.”
“I’m so ready.” With a purr, she slipped her hands around my back, sliding them down to my butt, patting me down. In the same husky tone, she murmured, “Just making sure you have your phone with you.”
Who didn’t?
“I’m always prepared,” I said, then gently removed her hands from my ass. Sure, I couldn’t wait to touch her again, but I also couldn’t get distracted before a critical mission. “Let’s save all that for later. I promise as soon as we finish today, I will deliver a well-deserved trio of your favorite things.” Then I tipped my head to the sandwich shop. “And I’ll take you there for lunch if you want. I think the look in your eyes says you’re lusting after a panini.”
“No. Just you,” she said, all flirty and dirty.
I resisted the bait this time. “You’ll need these,” I said, reaching for my high-tech shades. She watched intently as I took the binoculars from my pocket.
I flicked them open and set them on her face and then explained how they worked, where she should station herself in the church, and my expected timeframe. “You’ll be safe there. No one will know you’re involved.”
“Don’t you get yourself caught,” she warned.
I saluted her. “I’m like a cat. My job is to be invisible.”
Twenty minutes later, we were in place. Ruby watched the gallery through the church window while I ambled along the street, checking out souvenirs of seashells at a shop kitty-corner to the gallery. As I pretended to consider a conch shell keychain, a white Subaru with an orange logo on the door pulled up and parked—my cue to stroll casually toward the gallery.
A woman in chef whites emerged from the Subaru, yanked open the hatchback, and grabbed a tray full of gourmet food. I smiled in satisfaction as she headed to Willow’s Island Gallery.
A lunch ambush.
Who didn’t love free food? That should give me a few minutes of distraction while everyone converged on the goodies, especially since Lynx O’Malley had spared no expense when he’d surprised the gallery staff with lunch out of gratitude for their hard work.
As soon as the caterer was inside, I slipped into the alley and made a beeline for the gallery’s back entrance, picked the lock, and opened the door a crack to listen for anyone nearby.