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  He heard the bell jingle in the shop below and then the sound of voices. He didn’t take his eyes off Sophie as she climbed up the ramp into the truck.

  It wasn’t too late to come clean with her. He could go to her now and tell her what he was really here for. But then he’d have to deal with her reaction. She might tell him to leave. And he couldn’t. She’d fooled him completely last summer when she’d switched places with Mac and ended up getting herself kidnapped in Mac’s place. She’d almost been killed. This time, Tracker had to make sure that he could protect her.

  The two deliverymen began to muscle a crate down the ramp at the same moment that another man walked through the back door of the shop into the courtyard. Tracker recognized John Landry at once. Swearing under his breath, he whirled from the window and headed for the stairs.

  If he was going to keep Sophie protected, he’d better keep his mind on the job.

  “JUST PUT IT IN the back room,” Sophie said. “Noah will uncrate it.”

  As the two deliverymen slowly eased their burden off the ramp, John Landry stepped into the courtyard.

  Sophie waved. “You’re just in time to help out.”

  With a smile, he stepped up to join her in the truck bed. “That’s what I came for. What can I do?”

  She glanced at her list, and then checked the number on a medium-size crate. Tapping it with her finger, she said, “This is a Louis XIV desk. I have two customers who will drive the price up when they try to outbid each other for it. Think you can manage it alone?”

  “I’ll give him a hand,” Tracker said as he joined them. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Tracker McBride.”

  “John Landry.”

  When neither man extended a hand, Sophie said, “Tracker is a good friend of my brother’s, and he’s offered his services for the day.”

  Neither of the men acknowledged that they’d heard her, and for a moment there was silence.

  “I’ll take this end,” Tracker finally said. “You want to grab the other?”

  “Fine,” Landry said, putting his back into hefting the other end of the crate.

  Sophie studied them, frowning a little until they’d managed to get the little desk off the ramp. For a minute there, she thought that one of them might take a swing at the other. But the crate made it without mishap into the shop. With a little shrug, she glanced down at the itemized shipping list, then turned her attention to the numbers on the remaining crates.

  Four of them were from the little shop she’d mentioned to Chris and Millie. The owner stocked many items from local artists who produced ceramic pieces, and on her last trip to England Sophie had stopped there twice to place orders.

  Finally, she located the crate she was looking for. According to the shipping list, it contained a ceramic horse, and she’d been looking for one for ages.

  Lifting the crate, she hurried down the ramp. If she liked it, she would add it to her collection. Feeling triumphant, she raced up the steps to her apartment.

  UNLOADING THE TRUCK and arranging the items in the shop took more than two hours. As he helped to uncrate and check pieces for damage, Tracker had ample time to look for drawers with false bottoms or chests with fake backs. But so did Landry, Noah and even Chance, who had joined them for an hour before he opened the gallery. As far as Tracker could see, none of them had found anything.

  Then the new stock had to be priced and arranged in the store. As they worked, Tracker had ample opportunity to observe Sophie interacting with the three men. She treated Noah like a younger brother, alternately teasing him, praising him and patting him on the arm.

  With Chance she seemed to have the same kind of friendly relationship that she had with Noah. It was only with Landry that she was different. She didn’t tease him, nor did she touch him with the same frequency or ease that she did the other two. The first word that came to describe her manner was reserved. Oh, there was desire on Landry’s part. Tracker had seen it in the man’s eyes last night at the party, and in the way he’d been looking at Sophie when he’d joined them in the truck. But in Sophie’s manner toward Landry, all Tracker could sense was…regret?

  With an effort, he shrugged the thought away. Landry might be part of the smuggling operation. That was what Tracker should be focusing on, not the man’s relationship with Sophie.

  All of them had worked hard. Even Landry had pulled his weight. But it was Sophie who surprised him the most. Far from assuming the role of princess and ordering everyone around, she was much more likely to try to move the heaviest pieces by herself. Twice he caught her hauling sections of crates out to the alley, and had taken them out of her hands.

  When she was finally happy with the arrangement, she’d shooed them into the back room and taken a six-pack of beer out of the small refrigerator she kept there. Setting it on the table, she said, “Enjoy.” Then the jingling of the bell had her hurrying out into the shop again.

  “I’m going to take a rain check,” Chance said, picking up his linen jacket and moving toward the back door. “The gallery calls.”

  Tracker took one of the bottles Noah was now passing around. “Do you get these shipments often?”

  “Two or three times a month,” Noah said. “She has two contacts, one in London and a new one along the coast. Business has been good, so she needs a pretty steady supply.”

  “Are you one of her contacts?” Tracker addressed this question to Landry.

  “I’ve helped her locate a few pieces. I have a wide network of dealers and I’m trying to convince her to use me even more for locating special-order pieces.”

  Special-order pieces that could be used to smuggle jewels or artwork? Chance might think that Landry was clean, but Tracker wasn’t so sure. The man had seemed very interested in each piece that was uncrated.

  “She’s going to be looking for a Queen Anne desk,” Noah said. “Congressman Blaisdell was specifically asking for one this morning.”

  “Do you know of any other pieces I could keep my eye out for?” Landry asked.

  As the two men continued to talk, Tracker moved to the door to the shop. A young woman had come in, and Sophie was using a step stool to reach something in the window. As he watched, she nearly lost her balance.

  “Here, let me.” In five quick strides he wove his way through the furniture arrangements and gripped her firmly around the waist. “Which piece?”

  “The china doll on the rocking horse.”

  The moment he handed it to her, she slipped the price tag off and tucked it into her pocket. Then, stepping down from the stool, she crossed to the woman. “Here it is.”

  The woman turned the doll over in her hands and smoothed the lace collar. “Melly would love this. I work at the ice-cream store down the block, and every time we walk past your store, she stops to talk to it.”

  “It sounds like a perfect match,” Sophie said. “How old is Melly?”

  “She’ll be six on the Fourth of July.” Then the woman placed the doll on the counter. “How much is it?”

  Sophie picked up the doll and, pursing her lips, examined it. “The price tag must have fallen off.” She narrowed her eyes. “Twenty-five dollars.”

  The woman stared at her. “I thought he said…the young man I talked to said it was over a hundred dollars.” She reached into her pocket. “I have the money.”

  “You must have talked to Noah, my assistant.”

  “Yes. And I’m sure he said—”

  Sophie leaned closer to her. “Men. They don’t know the first thing about dolls. You ask him about a Louis XIV desk and he can tell you without even looking it up. But he’s never accurate about the dolls. The price on this one is twenty-five dollars. Take it or leave it.”

  The woman opened her mouth and shut it. Tracker could see pride war with her desire to grant her daughter’s birthday wish. “I’ll take it.”

  “Good. I’ll wrap it for you.” Gathering up the doll, Sophie hurried into the back room.

  So the Princ
ess was sweet. If he hadn’t already liked her, he would have then.

  “I’ll see you tonight then?” he heard John Landry saying before he reentered the back room.

  Tracker frowned. The man just didn’t give up. He pushed through the door in time to hear Sophie say, “Of course.”

  There was no sign of Noah, and Tracker watched John lean down and brush Sophie’s cheek with a kiss.

  “Why don’t I pick you up?” Landry asked.

  Tracker took a step into the back room. “Am I interrupting something?”

  Sophie shot him a quick look. “John has to leave. But he’s going to be at Millie Langford-Hughes’s party tonight.” She turned back to John. “Tracker is going to be there, too.”

  “We’re going together,” Tracker said.

  “I see.”

  See that you do. Though he didn’t say the words aloud, Tracker kept his eyes on Landry until the man exited the shop through the back door.

  “You purposely tried to intimidate him,” Sophie said.

  Tracker shifted his gaze to her and smiled. “I did more than try.”

  “You did the same thing out in the truck. Why?”

  “He wants you and—” Tracker stopped himself before the words slipped out. He was going to say you’re mine. Instead, he managed a smile. “We have a deal, Princess.”

  “Yes, we do.” She moved toward him then, studying him closely. “And I don’t think you’re telling me the whole truth. I couldn’t help but notice the way you were watching him while we were uncrating the shipment. You were watching everybody. Why?”

  She was smart, and if he wasn’t careful, the Princess was going to figure out way too much for her own good. Cursing himself, Tracker moved toward her. “It’s those damn dice.”

  “The dice?” Her eyes widened as he caged her against the counter with his arms.

  “I don’t want you using them with anyone else. Only me.” It was the truth, he realized. He was speaking the truth and the worst kind of lie at the same time. But he couldn’t let her suspect his real reason for being in her shop and in her bed. Years of living on the streets had made him skillful at lying convincingly.

  “You’re jealous?”

  “Seems so. He’s nice, and I’m not.” Tracker moved closer and watched her eyes darken around the image of himself that he could see in them. No, he wasn’t nice. He would use any means to keep her safe. Including sex. Lowering his head, he brushed his mouth along her jaw to her ear. Then he whispered softly, “Do you remember what the dice said, Princess?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was breathless. Her scent was filling him.

  “Tell me.”

  “No.”

  “No?” Surprised, he drew back slightly until his eyes met hers. There was desire there and mischief, too.

  “Why don’t I show you?” she said instead.

  Her hand was on him then, moving along the entire hard length of his erection. Tracker had to struggle to swallow a moan. “Sophie.”

  “I want to do this without your clothes in the way. And I want to keep touching you like this until you come.”

  He gripped the edge of the counter behind her, hard. He could imagine all too well how it would feel to have her hands on him without the barrier of clothes. Right now, she wouldn’t have to work very hard to get her wish. He wouldn’t have to work very hard to get his, either—he could picture slipping her out of her red slacks, lifting her to the counter and burying himself deep inside of her. For a moment he allowed the images to play themselves out in his mind. Then he said in a soft voice, “In another minute, Melly’s mom might be very shocked.”

  Slowly Sophie drew her hand away. Then she met his eyes. “We’ll finish this later.”

  “Your wish is my command, Princess.” Tracker released his grip on the counter and eased himself out of her way. As he watched her pick up the package and walk off, he drew in a deep breath and let it out.

  When she reached the door, she turned back. “And then it will be my turn to roll the dice.”

  Lust and nerves settled into a hard knot in his center. Using sex to distract Sophie was turning into a double-edged sword.

  THE PUPPET MASTER was smiling at his companion as he punched numbers into the speakerphone. The chess game was going well. And within a very short time, he would have the last coin.

  As soon as someone lifted the receiver on the other end, he said, “Report.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  His smile faded. “You’ve failed me?”

  “No. I swear to you it’s not in the shop.”

  With one hand he swept the chess pieces off of the board in front of him. “It was shipped. I have a copy of the shipping list in front of me. You have failed me.”

  “No. I’ll get ahold of it. I have an idea of what might have happened.”

  “What might have happened?”

  “You’ll have it soon. I’ll deliver it in person.”

  “You have until midnight.”

  He cut the connection and summoned a smile for his companion. “My apologies. We’ll have to start a new game.”

  6

  THEY WERE LATE. Ordinarily, Sophie would have been annoyed with herself. She was always punctual, always prepared when it came to business, and a cocktail party at Millie Langford-Hughes’s house was simply an extension of her workday. But Sophie was finding it very difficult to work up any regrets about her tardiness when it had been caused by the insatiable lust of the man sitting next to her.

  She shot Tracker a quick sideways glance. He was staring straight ahead and wearing sunglasses against the glare of the early evening sun. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

  She hoped he was thinking about what had happened in her shower after he’d joined her there. He hadn’t wanted to. He’d told her that much as he’d lifted her and pressed her against the wall. He’d told her again when she’d wrapped her legs around him and he’d entered her. But he couldn’t stop himself. And he hadn’t been gentle. A smile curved her lips. She hadn’t wanted him to be. The roughness of his lovemaking, the desperation that she’d felt in his hands, in each thrust of his body… Just thinking about it sent an arrow of pleasure shooting through her. The idea that a man could want her that much had filled her with such a sense of power.

  The gentleness had come afterward when he’d held her in his arms until the water had turned cold. It would be so tempting to interpret that gentleness as meaning that he cared for her. But she couldn’t let herself expect that. She wouldn’t. People disappointed you when you did.

  Seeing the yellow light ahead, she pressed her foot on the brake and took the corner on two wheels.

  Tracker slammed a hand into the dashboard. “Easy, Princess.”

  Sophie glanced over at him. He seemed even larger in the front seat of her Miata. The thought struck her then that they were racing through the streets in a convertible with the top down just as Grace Kelly and Cary Grant had in To Catch a Thief. Only Grace hadn’t just come from a bout of hot sex in the shower. Sophie laughed as she slammed on the brakes at a red light.

  “Want to share the joke?” Tracker asked.

  She turned to him then, and her heart did a little somersault in her chest. He was dressed in black—not the jeans and T-shirt that he’d worn in the shop all day, but in slacks and an elegant silk shirt, open at the throat. Just looking at the few curls of chest hair that were visible had her throat going dry. The sunglasses kept her from seeing his eyes, and made him seem even more dangerous.

  A funny little ache began to grow deep inside of her. How could she want him again so soon? “I was just thinking that I’d like to blow everything off and just keep driving—maybe up into the mountains somewhere. Have you ever been tempted to do something like that?” she asked.

  “Just about every day in my misspent youth.”

  “It’s hard to believe you had one. You seem so dedicated to your work.”

  “I think this is a case of the pot calli
ng the kettle black. I’ve seldom seen anyone as dedicated as you.”

  The pleasure that his words brought moved through her. But she wasn’t going to be distracted. “Did you ever give in to the temptation?”

  “Too many times to count.” Reaching over, he tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “If you wanted to blow the party, I’ll bet you could find a way to persuade me.”

  Several methods slipped into Sophie’s mind and she was very tempted to try them one at a time, but a sharp honk from the car behind her had her gripping the wheel and making a sharp turn. Gathering her thoughts, she said, “Millie would never forgive me.” She flicked him a look as she turned into a circular drive. “Although the persuading part sounds interesting. How about a rain check?”

  He grinned at her. “You got it. I’ll even play hard to get.”

  She was laughing as she handed the key to the valet who opened her car door. When she joined Tracker on the other side, she pitched her voice low. “You weren’t playing very hard to get in the shower.”

  His expression sobered. “I wasn’t easy on you.”

  Sophie studied him for a minute. No, he wasn’t a man who would ever be easy on a woman. Then she smiled slowly. “I guess I’ll just have to get even.”

  He studied her. He’d been rough with her in the shower. But he hadn’t hurt her, and he was beginning to believe that he wouldn’t—at least not physically. Finally, he said, “This party can be your revenge.”

  “You don’t like parties?” she asked as he took her arm and led her up the steps to the house.

  “I can think of several other things I’d rather be doing,” he said as a man who looked more like a linebacker than a butler opened the door.

  “Good evening, Miss Wainwright.”

  “Good evening to you, too, Callahan.” Standing on tiptoes, she brushed a kiss against his cheek. “This is my brother’s friend, Tracker McBride. Ms. Langford-Hughes knows that I’m bringing him.”

  Callahan gave Tracker an assessing look, then nodded. “They’re in the solarium.”