Forbidden

6

THEY DIDN’T HAVE to wait long.

By Thursday of the following week Paige received a call from the broker she’d listed the boutique with. Matt Smythe informed her that a Victor Carranza was interested in purchasing the Wild Rose for his fiancée and wanted to meet with her personally. She knew it was all a ruse, a way for Carranza to get close to her and assess the situation. As Josh had instructed, she bought herself another twenty-four hours and set up an appointment to meet with Carranza Friday afternoon.

She thought she was ready for this moment. Josh had spent the weekend briefing her on various scenarios, and how to handle the carefully phrased questions that would no doubt arise in Carranza’s quest for the necklace. She even had the security of a small, single-shot derringer Josh had borrowed from Liz for her to use in case of an extreme emergency. The weapon was tucked in the top drawer of her desk, and though a practice session last night at a shooting range had bolstered her confidence in wielding the derringer, the idea of having to resort to that kind of violence revolted her. Josh didn’t think Carranza posed any danger to her at this point in the game, but they weren’t taking any chances with her safety.

Everyone was in place for this afternoon’s meeting. A bug had been placed in Paige’s office so Josh and another detective could listen to their conversation from the surveillance van parked a few blocks away. Liz was armed beneath her fashionable crepe pantsuit and, as yet another precaution, a few undercover officers had been posted at the coffeehouse next to the Wild Rose.

“Your two o’clock appointment is here, Paige,” Liz announced cheerfully as she entered the boutique’s office, leading the way for the man following her. Liz’s mouth held an amicable smile, but her eyes offered the reassurance and support Paige so desperately needed to get through this ordeal.

Pasting on a pleasant smile that concealed the anxiety coiling deep within her, she scooted her chair back from her rolltop desk and stood. “Thank you, Liz,” she said, giving the other woman her cue to leave.

Liz hesitated briefly, her gaze darting toward the open door in what Paige could only construe as a subtle warning. The discreet, unspoken signal had Paige wishing she were a mind reader. Something in their plan had changed, but what?

Too soon, Liz exited the room. As they’d devised that morning, a decorative doorstop propped at the base of the door kept the office open, enabling the other woman to monitor the situation. Grateful for the modicum of safety, Paige forced herself to approach the ruthless man who’d had her husband murdered, a man who was out to claim a million-dollar necklace at any cost to the people involved.

He was nothing like the sinister, villainous criminal she’d envisioned. The man was tall, his tailored Italian suit fitting a physique slighter than the heavy, muscular build she had expected. His thick black hair was cut precisely, his eyes just as dark as those gleaming strands. His gaze, although sharp and assessing, radiated warmth, as did his benevolent smile. He appeared suave, obviously wealthy, and very…normal. Like any other businessman she’d ever met.

He extended a manicured hand toward her. “Paige Montgomery, I presume?” he queried, his voice deep and congenial.

“Yes.” She didn’t want to touch him, but to ignore his offered hand would be unacceptable. Shoring up her resolve, she politely slipped her hand into his. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Carranza.”

His eyes sparkled with the kind of persuasive charm designed to captivate an unsuspecting woman. Luckily Paige knew enough to distrust this man.

“Considering we’ll be doing business together please call me Victor,” he insisted.

The double meaning of his words “doing business together” sent a wave of apprehension sweeping through her. When she gently pulled her hand from his grasp he didn’t resist. “I do hope you find the boutique to your liking.”

“I’m afraid I’m not the one you need to impress.” He leaned close, winked, and added in a low, conspiratorial tone, “I brought the critic with me.”

Before Paige had time to decipher that comment, a sleek, catlike woman stepped into the room, dressed in a racy-red, form-fitting halter dress that hugged her curves from breasts to thighs. Her endlessly long, tanned legs gave way to feet clad in red stiletto heels. A glittering ruby-and-diamond necklace, much too extravagant for daytime wear, encircled her neck, matching the teardrop earrings in her lobes and the jeweled bracelet adorning her wrist. In contrast, Paige felt like an old-fashioned matron in her conservative, doublebreasted suit in a pale shade of sage.

This was the warning Liz had tried to give her, she realized. Even before Victor introduced her, Paige’s stomach churned with the knowledge of who this woman was.

“Ah, there you are, pussycat,” Victor said affectionately. “Come here and meet the owner of the Wild Rose.” He waited until the gorgeous woman stood by his side before making the unnecessary introductions. “Paige, I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Bridget Piroux.”

Paige desperately tried to keep her composure and act normal, which wasn’t an easy feat considering she was meeting the woman with whom her husband had had an illicit, deadly affair. Curiously, she’d thought that when this moment came she’d experience jealousy or some other violent emotion, but all she felt was renewed anger at Anthony’s duplicity. This woman was proof that her marriage to Anthony had been a sham based on lies and deceit-if that hadn’t been evident before, it was now.

She smiled amicably, but didn’t offer her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The other woman gave her head a haughty shake, and her long sable hair rippled down her back in a silky cascade. Dark, exotic green eyes that tipped up at the corners scrutinized Paige from head to toe. Full lips, painted the same shocking red as her dress curled into a smug smile. “Ummm, a pleasure,” she purred.

“So, what do you think of the place, pussycat?”

Bridget hooked an arm through Victor’s, pressing so close her breasts quivered and threatened to spill from her low-cut bodice. “Darling, the boutique is absolutely charming!” she gushed, playing the pampered fiancée to the hilt. “The shop is classy and the outfits are more stylish than I’d expected. Why, it would be like having one great big closet full of clothes!”

Under different circumstances, Paige would have found the other woman’s fatuousness amusing, but there was a shrewd intelligence in her eyes that belied her dim-witted, spoiled routine.

Victor caught the hand that had slipped intimately beneath his suit jacket and brought it back into sight. “How long do you think it will hold your attention before you grow bored with it?”

Laughing throatily, she trailed a long, crimson nail along the front of his shirt. “Does it really matter, as long as it keeps me busy during the day while you’re working?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” He sighed and looked back at Paige with a shrug that said he was helpless to resist this woman’s wishes. “I guess we’ll be discussing numbers.”

Paige prayed her surprise didn’t reflect on her face. She honestly hadn’t believed his supposed interest in the boutique would go beyond a preliminary inquiry. And what perplexed her even more was that, so far, neither one of them had glanced at the picture on the wall. Wasn’t that their real purpose for being here?

“All right,” Paige said, playing along with the ruse. She waved a hand toward the pair of tweed chairs and end table that made up a small sitting area next to her desk. “Please, sit down and we’ll discuss my price and terms.”

Victor took one of the chairs, but Bridget strolled to the opposite side of the office from where the portrait hung. She stopped at a bookcase filled with catalogs, specialty books and other business periodicals. Retrieving a thick book of fashion designs, she casually flipped through the pages.

“I’m afraid she doesn’t care for the dealing part of business, and leaves the final decision in my hands,” Carranza said, explaining Bridget’s disinterest.

More likely she wants to case the joint, Paige thought, but feigned indifference. “I understand.”

Opening the button on his suit jacket, he reclined back in his chair. “First, I’d like to ask why you’re selling the boutique.”

The personal question threw her, though she managed to sustain an outward calm. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blunt.” He smiled his apology. “But what I’d like to know is if the Wild Rose is financially secure.”

“It turns a decent profit. In fact, it’s doing extremely well.” Not sure where this conversation was heading, but wanting to maintain a businesslike air, she offered, “I can have my accountant send you a financial statement if you’d like.”

“If the boutique is solvent, why would you let it go?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard her last remark or was ignoring it for more consequential information. “Is there something we should know about, a reason why you might be, well, unloading the shop…”

Paige was beginning to find this conversation entirely too bizarre, as if Carranza really did have an interest in the boutique, which was ridiculous. These pragmatic questions weren’t what she’d anticipated, and her honest answer to his question-that she was severing all ties to Miami and opting for solitude and simplicity-weren’t t appropriate in this situation.

Think pretentious and pampered, Paige. That’s what they expect from you. “Oh, no, it’s nothing like that,” she said, punctuating her remark with light, frivolous laughter. “The boutique is a responsibility I no longer want. I’m recently widowed, and I’ve been thinking of doing some traveling.” Straight to Connecticut.

“Alone?” His smile was affable, his tone conversational, but there was something in the depths of his gaze that made her feel anxious-as if he was subtly prying for intimate answers that had nothing to do with the sale of the boutique and more to do with the ostentatious woman she was supposed to be.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Bridget watching her, waiting for her response, her fingers stroking the dazzling ruby-and-diamond necklace Paige highly suspected had been smuggled through Carranza’s organization.

Paige’s face warmed, and she hoped they’d both mistake the flush for embarrassment and not the uneasiness it was. “Well, no, not exactly,” she lied.

Bracing his arms on the side of the chair, the suave man steepled his fingers in front of him and regarded her over the tips. “A male companion, then?” he asked curiously.

His audacity astounded her. She knew she was supposed to be accommodating, but she was beginning to feel interrogated, and annoyed. “Mr. Carranza,” she said firmly, attempting to steer their conversation back to business. “I don’t know what my traveling plans have to do with your interest in the boutique…”

He held up a hand and appeared apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I tend to let my curiosity get the best of me at times. You’re a lovely woman, and I just naturally assumed you’d have an escort.”

Belatedly, Paige realized the reason for his casual probing. They’d heard about Josh being her lover and wanted to confirm the report they’d been given.

He shrugged, as if dismissing the entire verbal exchange. “Back to business, then. What are you asking for the boutique?”

She quoted him the price she’d estimated the Wild Rose was worth, and spent the next fifteen minutes discussing her terms for the sale, treating him as she would any other potential buyer. He digested the information she fed him, and asked all the appropriate questions of a prospective investor. During that time Bridget continued her slow perusal of the office, and Liz passed the door with an armload of clothes and glanced surreptitiously inside, offering Paige a measure of comfort and security, though she felt no direct threat from Carranza.

When there was nothing left to discuss but an offer, Carranza stood and rebuttoned his suit jacket. “Before making any final decisions, I’d like to discuss the purchase with my investment broker.”

This couldn’t be the end of his visit, she thought, finding his strategy disconcerting and unnerving. Following his lead, she retrieved a business card from her desk and handed it to him. “Feel free to give me a call if you or your broker have any other questions.”

“Oh, I’m certain you’ll be hearing back from me shortly.” His smile held a deeper connotation than his simple words.

“Darling, would you take a look at this picture!” Bridget exclaimed, capturing their attention.

Paige and Victor turned at the same moment to find the other woman in front of the portrait hanging on the wall, her eyes alight with excitement and intense purpose.

Finally, Paige thought, relief and nervousness colliding.

Victor casually strolled to where Bridget stood. Hands thrust into the front pockets of his slacks, he considered the sensual portrait of Paige wrapped in white fur, her cleavage a perfect setting for the Ivanov necklace. “Umm, the picture is quite exquisite,” he said, with a slow, appreciative grin that made Paige’s skin crawl.

Bridget’s eyes narrowed in the pretense of being a slighted lover. “I want this necklace to complete my collection,” she said haughtily.

He stroked his chin with his fingers, as if contemplating her demand. “Pussycat,” he began in a tone meant to placate, “you can’t have everything you want.”

Her expression turned sullen. “I have everything but emeralds, and you told me when I found something I liked you would buy it for me, regardless of the cost. This is the necklace I want.”

Carranza glanced at Paige, looking appropriately exasperated by his fiancée’s behavior-but not enough to deny her. “Do you mind if I ask where you bought the necklace?”

Paige’s heart pounded so hard, she feared he’d be able to see it thumping beneath her prim suit. Gradually moving closer to where they both stood, she forced herself to concentrate on the various responses she and Josh had rehearsed. Drop subtle clues, he’d told her.

“Oh, I didn’t buy it,” she said, amazed to find her voice so steady when her insides were quaking. “After my husband died a few months ago I found the necklace stashed in a safe I have at home. Most likely it was a gift he never had the chance to give me.”

“How much do you want for it?” Bridget asked imperiously.

Paige met her ruthless stare, wondering what Anhony had seen in the other woman that he’d risked his life for. Excitement? Danger? “I’m sorry, it’s not for sale.”

The other woman’s gaze turned frosty, chilling Paige to the bone. “Everything has a price, and Victor will gladly pay yours.”

“Now, Pussycat,” Carranza began, patting her arm onsolingly. “If it’s not for sale-”

“I want it,” she stated angrily, and in a swirl of red left the office.

Paige drew a steady breath, a little shaken by the lark, merciless glint she’d seen in Bridget’s gaze. She knew her tantrum had been a performance, but her rancor had seemed so real…

After a moment, Victor cast Paige a contrite look, as if to say his fiancée’s petulance was a common occurrence he’d grown used to. “I’m afraid when she sets her mind on something she doesn’t let up until she gets it. Maybe you could reconsider selling the necklace?”

Paige’s insides were clenching, churning. She struggled to keep up her end of the farce, hating every minute of it. “I have to confess that I suspect the necklace is fake, and not nearly as valuable as your fiancée might believe.”

“Really?” His brows rose in surprise. “You had it appraised?”

She shook her head. “No, but I know my husband wouldn’t have afforded a necklace like that if the jewels were authentic.”

“Hmmm.” He scrutinized the portrait once more. "Would you be opposed to having the necklace looked at by my appraiser? I’d be willing to offer market value plus thirty percent, fake or no.”

She’d bet odds that his appraiser would conclud that the jewels were synthetic, and not worth more that a couple of hundred dollars-an uncomplicated, easy transaction for a million-dollar necklace. No murder, no mayhem, no more encounters with the witch. She was tempted, but knew that simple route wasn’t an option

Play hard to get. Josh’s words echoed in her mind “That’s very generous of you, but I really don think-”

“Trust me, buying this necklace, at any cost, will save me a lot of grief where Bridget is concerned.” He smile persuasively. “Tell you what. I’m having a dinner part next Saturday at my estate in the Keys. Why don’t you join us? I have a guest cottage you’re welcome to use for the weekend.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly.” Dread twisted within he when she thought of staying at this man’s estate, along at his complete mercy. She grasped for an excuse to refuse his offer. “I’m seeing someone, and I don’t think he’d like me attending a party without him.”

“By all means, bring him along,” he suggested generously. “My appraiser will be there. Bring the necklace, I’ll have him look at it, and we can make a deal that will benefit both of us.” He winked at her, and without giving her time to refuse said, “I’ll be in touch to give you directions to my estate.”

She watched him leave her office, heard his voice mingling with Bridget’s, then the tinkle of the boutique’s door chime as they left the Wild Rose. Dimly she realized that he’d left no business card, no phone number, or any other way to contact him. She was like a spider caught in his web-relinquishing the Ivanov necklace would be her only means of escape.

She stood there, alone in the office, her body trembling in a series of tiny aftershocks that kicked up her adrenaline. Everything had gone as planned. They were going to be on Carranza’s turf, just as Lieutenant Reynolds wanted. Except she had no desire to display that necklace, or be a part of such a potentially deadly scheme-no matter how much protection Josh promised her.

She had no choice. That realization brought on a wave of anger so fierce, it heated her blood and made her tense enough to snap at Liz when she slipped into the office and asked if she was okay.

Hell, no, she wasn’t okay! She had absolutely no control over the situation, or her life at the moment, and she resented every bit of it-from Anthony’s deceit, to Carranza’s ruthlessness, to being forced into a dangerous situation that put her life at risk. Liz attempted to reason with her, but she was far from feeling rational. Not when her entire future looked shaky at best.

Within ten minutes of Carranza’s departure, Josh arrived at the boutique, no doubt having heard her snapping at Liz through the van’s surveillance system. The door Liz had shut to give them privacy swung open without a knock and Josh strode inside, his expression fierce and focused on Paige.

“Give us a few minutes alone, Liz,” he ordered without looking at the other woman.

“Sure.” Relief laced Liz’s voice. Slipping out of the room before the fireworks started, she closed the door behind her.

Josh came up to Paige and rested his hands gently on her shoulders. “You did just fine, sweetheart,” he said, his thumbs stroking along her neck in an attempt to relax her.

“I did just fine?” Her voice was shrill. She was ready for a fight, itching to vent the turbulent emotions building within her. “My God, Josh, I came face-to-face with the woman Anthony had an affair with, and the man who had him murdered!” There was no need to explain any of the conversation she’d had with Carranza-he’d heard every word from the surveillance van. “What’s to stop him from killing me, too?”

Something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes, then was gone. “All he wants is the necklace, which we’re going to make sure he confiscates so we can prosecute him. We’re right where we want to be.”

“You’re right where you want to be, you mean.” Finding his touch much too distracting, she stepped away from him. Her nerves remained coiled tight. “Isn’t there some other way to lure Carranza?”

“No.” Though his gaze held understanding, his inflexible tone cut off any further objections. “He knows you have the necklace and, judging by the conversation we heard, he intends to confiscate it-with or without your cooperation. I prefer we cooperate, which means accepting his dinner invitation.”

She glared at him for long moments, wanting to argue, wanting to refuse. He stared back unflinchingly, unwilling to compromise. Protesting would be a waste of breath, she knew.

“Fine,” she said flatly, turning away from him and going to her desk. Gathering files, she stuffed them into her briefcase, her movements brusque. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long day and I’d like you to take me home.”

THE MOMENT Josh parked the car in the garage, he knew something was wrong. He sensed trouble on a gut level, but there was evidence as well to back up his intuition.

He turned to Paige as she unsnapped her seat belt and grabbed her arm before she could open her door. “I want you to stay in the car, keep the engine running, and lock the doors,” he said in as neutral a tone of voice as he could manage, so he didn’t unnecessarily frighten her. “And move over to the driver’s side once I’m out.”

Apprehension touched her tired features. “Josh, what’s wrong?”

“The house alarm. It’s been disengaged.” As he’d expected, she automatically glanced at the security keypad next to the door to confirm that the red light was out, verification the alarm had been tampered with in some way. “Stay put. I’m going inside to check things out.”

“Josh, no,” she said, panic tingeing her voice.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “But if you see anyone you don’t recognize I want you to leave, then call the police on the cell phone.”

Before she could object, he slid out of the Volvo, made sure she followed his instructions, then withdrew his gun from his shoulder holster and soundlessly made his way inside the house. The interior was shadowed with twilight, the structure eerily quiet-there was nothing to indicate an intruder lurked within the dwelling.

He flipped a light switch on the wall in the living room and swore vibrantly. The house had been ransacked. Couches were overturned, the matching cushions and throw pillows slashed open, the white fiber filling spilling out onto the floor. Cabinets and drawers had been rummaged through, their contents strewn haphazardly around the room. Pictures had been ripped off the walls, lamps had been smashed, and anything not bolted down had been upended.

Every room in the house was the same-pillaged and vandalized in someone’s quest to locate the Ivanov necklace. Of that, Josh was certain. Carranza knew Paige had the piece of jewelry, and had obviously sent his men to find it. Except it wasn’t here, as they’d no doubt discovered.

Knowing there was no possible way they could stay here tonight, he grabbed his duffel bag from Paige’s ravaged room, tossed in his personal things and her toiletries, and decided they’d stay at a hotel until the place was secured, dusted for fingerprints, and cleaned up.

His head shot up and his entire body tensed when he heard a noise from the other room. Christ, were the thugs still here? Then a low, choking noise followed-a sound that lifted the hairs at the back of his neck and turned him stone-cold.

He thought of Paige, sitting alone in the car. He thought of the possibility of one of Carranza’s men harming her, and knew they’d be dead before they realized he’d put a bullet through their heart.

Adrenaline and rage rushed through his veins as he moved silently toward the front rooms. Another indiscernible sound reached him. He rounded the last corner, his finger tight on the trigger, gun aimed and steady…right at Paige’s heart.