What Happened in Vegas...

For the first time, she felt a tremor of unease—professional unease. The man may have her sweating the personal stuff, but she was confident in her job. Nothing shook her in that area.

Yet, while she’d been dreamily reliving the past, he was all business.

Rolling her shoulders, she shuffled through the pictures. They were in black and white. The first was a doozy, showing a young, beautiful woman wearing an obviously couture gown, long white gloves and a magnificent choker around her neck being presented to the King of England.

Okay, that was…unexpected.

Where had Gideon gotten these pictures? The library? The Internet?

The photos are yellowed and rough at the edges, not recently printed.

She shook away the disturbing thought, as well as the even more unsettling vision of them being pulled from a family album, or from a box in the back of somebody’s closet.

Fighting to keep her hands still, she shuffled through several more, which showed the same woman smiling and posing, dancing and bowing. The constant in all the pictures was the lovely gown and the amazing choker around her neck. The choker that featured a large, emerald-cut gem. Twenty-one karats, if Jacinda had any kind of decent eye.

And she did.

Still, the pictures were old black-and-whites. The stone in the choker could be glass. It could be any color. The pictures could be doctored. In the age of digital technology, anything was possible.

On the other hand…Jacinda was pretty sure she recognized the woman in the photos. Sophia Graystone. A high-society woman who’d been wild in her youth but who had eventually married and become one of the most respected philanthropists in the city. A close friend of Malle Callibro. In the director’s office, there was even a picture of them smoking cigars in a club, laughing as if the world existed to simply amuse them.

“It’s Sophia Graystone,” she said to Gideon, forcing disinterest into her voice. “So?”

“The emerald in the pictures is the same you see in the display case,” Gideon said.

“Oh, please. They’re black-and-white photos and—”

“It’s the same,” he insisted.

She said nothing.

His gaze burned into hers. “Sophia was a close friend of Malle Callibro.”

“So I’ve heard. Look, I—”

“She’s also my grandmother.”

2

GIDEON WATCHED Jacinda’s face pale. Her hands trembled around the pictures she held.

He wanted to comfort and assure her, but there was too much at stake. Hadn’t he come here for shock value? Hadn’t he counted on catching her off guard?

Still, it hurt to watch her hurt.

“Sophia Graystone is my grandmother,” he repeated, concerned that Jacinda needed a jolt.

Jacinda’s gaze jumped to his, back to the pictures, then latched on to his again. “So, you’re…you’re—”

“Incredibly wealthy and privileged.” He smiled gently. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

She laid the pictures on the display case and stepped back. “You lied to me.”

“No, I don’t think I did.” He’d been careful, as always, and given her limited details. To some, his words would have been considered lying; to others, simply self-protection. “I told you I chased treasures for a living. You assumed I was a penniless and unsettled dreamer, and I—” He stopped, knowing even if he hadn’t directly lied before, he needed to come clean now. “And I encouraged you to accept that assumption. I feel like I’ve spent half my life dodging women with their eyes on my trust fund.”

She glared at him, her blue eyes as sharp as a laser. “Oh, gee, how horrible for you.”

He reached for her hands; she shook her head. “Not my best explanation. I am an unsettled dreamer. I’m just not exactly penniless.”

“Not exactly.”

The word billions in conjunction with his family’s wealth was arrogant and ridiculous, even though it was true. He’d purposely kept that truth from the Vegas dancer he’d known so intimately. After only a few hours with her, though, he’d also known she didn’t need protection, that she was a remarkable, amazing woman.

Still, he’d kept silent. He’d always wondered what it would be like to be loved and accepted for what he was and not who he was. With the perfect opportunity dangling in front of him, he’d grabbed it. He’d let her assume his only ambitions were for fame and fortune.

In short, he’d lied in a big way.

Now, he admitted no small amount of shame over that decision. He’d wanted her body, had been intrigued by her mind, but he wouldn’t have presented her in the drawing room of his grandmother’s Park Avenue home. Was he, after all, a hypocrite?

“I’m sorry I lied to you before, though I didn’t hide everything. I do chase down lost treasures for clients. I am fascinated by history and family heirlooms. I just happen to be able to bankroll my searches if I so choose. It’s my way of giving back. My family encourages community service.” He held up his hand. “No, that’s not enough. We’re required to give back. It’s practically a family motto.”

“How generous of you.”

He ignored her sarcasm. He deserved it. But there was so much more at stake than mottos and past liaisons. “It’s what I do.”

Her eyes sparking with fiery temper, she paced away from him. “You find treasure.”

“Yes.”

“But not for money.”

“Not usually. I do it to find lost legacies.”

She stopped. “Oh, please.”

“Oh, yes.”

“You’re just a generous and selfless kind of guy.”

“Naturally.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she shook her head. “So why now? Why this treasure?”

He hadn’t expected her to listen to him and was actually relieved she hadn’t thrown him out of the building. That would have put a serious damper on his mission.

He needed Jacinda on his side. He needed her to believe him. Proving his claims that the emerald belonged to his family wasn’t going to be easy, and it was vital to have an ally in the opposing camp. “Obviously because of the family connection. It’s been a quest of mine for many years. When I saw the preview pictures of your auction, I knew I’d found it at last.” He paused, figuring he might as well spill the rest of it. “Imagine how surprised I was to find your name on the contact list.”

“My—” She stopped, narrowing her eyes. “You knew me as Jacy Powers.”

“I knew who you really were within twenty-four hours of leaving Vegas.”

Obviously embarrassed, she turned away.

“I was curious.” He lowered and gentled his tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said tightly, though clearly it did. She spun back to face him, her face a blank mask. “If the emerald belongs to your family, how do you think it could have possibly found its way here?”

“It was stolen from my grandmother many years ago.”

“No kidding. Tragic.”

Her doubtful tone set him on edge. “It was.”

While he hadn’t expected to be welcomed with open arms, knowing his deception about his family and the money would be revealed, neither had he expected her to be so hard and cold. He remembered the laughter and teasing challenge in her eyes. What had happened to her that changed her so much?

“You have proof of this theft?” she demanded.

“I have the original insurance claim.”

“Dated nineteen-forty…”

“Nine.”

“And the insurance agent can testify to that?”

“He’s dead.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“We weren’t close.”

“Still, it must have been a tragic loss for your family and your…” She paused and smirked. “Legacy.”

She was mistaken if she thought insulting him would get rid of him. “Are you doubting my word that the emerald was stolen from my family?”

She pursed her lips. “Mmm. Let me think….” Her gaze sliced to his. “Yes.”

He clenched his jaw.

Passion always brought passion—in either devotion or conflict. He could work with that. He’d made it work for him many times before. He’d hoped their past would bond them, if only a little. He’d hoped to flirt and tease his way into her good graces.

But he could be hard. Tough. Unrelenting.

His pulse hammering in his veins, he rounded the display cases and advanced toward her. He felt the weight of each step.

The closer he got, the wider her eyes became.

He’d always been charming with her. He’d been careful to be easygoing. That persona suited him.

But everything was different today.

Today, she had what he wanted. Today, she glared at him. Today, she doubted his word. Today, six years had passed since he’d touched her, since he’d felt the tension and need between them.

Today, despite all logic, distance and opposing views, he still wanted her.

As he drew closer, her body heat melded with his. The sensual perfume that was part her and part chemical reaction between them teased him. Invited him. The intimacies they’d shared flowed through him. Memories of her hot, silky skin wouldn’t let go, as if she’d physically grabbed him around his throat.

Well, actually, she’d grabbed him a bit lower.

And she had amazing hands.

“That emerald is mine,” he managed to say, his voice hoarse with suppressed desire.

“I don’t think so, Adventure Boy. It’s in my display case. It’s on my auction roster.”

“I’m not a boy.”

She cocked her head. “Leave it to a guy to dispute, not the facts, but the cheap attack on his manhood.” Drawing her finger down his chest, she smiled smugly. “You’ve softened over the years, Gideon. What a shame.”

As he grabbed her finger, he could actually feel his blood boiling. He’d tracked his family’s gem for more than a decade. He’d run down false leads. He’d bribed people. He’d failed and started again. He’d been subjected to ridicule and continually fought through the doubts of his family, friends and colleagues.

With the emerald finally within his reach, with his family’s honor at stake, he wasn’t compromising.

Even for the sensual abandon of the woman before him.

He squeezed her finger. “As I recall you liked me hard, so any softness must be a great disappointment.”

Her eyes darkened to smoke. Her lips parted.

So maybe the icy shell she’d built around her wasn’t so thick after all. Maybe she did remember the heat they’d shared. How long before he could loosen the buttons of her suit, before he could reveal that lush body she was trying so hard to hide?

He’d promised himself he’d be professional, that this was not the time for sex. He’d hoped that goal would last more than twenty minutes.

She smiled, but not with invitation. “If I had any intention of picking up where we left off six years ago, I might be disappointed.”

“I didn’t offer you anything.” Yet, anyway.

She smiled again, her eyes mocking. “Sure you did.”

“So we’re keeping things strictly professional?”

“This thing isn’t going to last more than ten minutes, so, yes, I’d say so.”

“You give me the emerald. I walk out of here. Okay, ten minutes sounds about right.”

“Not so fast.” She angled her head, looking amused. “You really think it’s yours.”

“I know it is.”

She tapped one finger on his chest, then scooted around him. “Prove it.”

He clenched his fists at his sides to keep from reaching for her. Or strangling her. Her amusement at his expense was infuriating. Why wasn’t she wound as tight as he was? Why did one touch, one sensual smile, have him hard and aching? The moment when she’d softened—an expression reminiscent of that weekend—had been way too short.

He wanted that connection back. He wanted her horizontal for hours on end.

But not more than you want the emerald, you idiot. Charming. Think charming. Get what you want, then worry about the rest.

“Let’s talk about it over dinner.”

“I have plans for dinner.”

“Then drinks.” He glanced at his watch. “At six. At Thai Bistro. It’s down the street.”

She frowned.

“You do still like Thai food?”

“What difference does it make? We’re just having drinks.”

“An excellent point.” He forced a smile. “So, we’re on?”

She extended her hand, clearly indicating she wanted him to leave the vault. “Sure. Can’t wait.”

Like spending time with him was torture. To keep his temper in check, he thought of his family’s legacy so closely within his grasp. It had actually been in his grasp a few minutes ago. That gem held answers to his past. He wasn’t letting it go. “Think of the professional contacts you could make with my family and their friends. Don’t you want to spend time with Sophia Graystone’s grandson?”

She pulled the door to the vault closed. The alarm reset automatically, emitting a series of beeps. “Not particularly, no.”

He’d have to see what he could do about changing her mind.

JACINDA SMOOTHED her hand down her hair as she approached the entrance of Thai Bistro. Her heart was pounding ridiculously, and she couldn’t get the image of Gideon’s inviting smile out of her mind. Nor the memory of his hot body, and the amazing things he could do with it.

He’d tempted her beyond her boundaries before. He’d made her forget her goals of earning money for school, of working her way up to a respectable profession and life. He’d dangled the possibility of a life without rules, without structure or—at least she thought at the time—security.

To learn he had all the security—aka dollars—he needed, and then some, was maddening. Infuriating. And, damn it, smart. The fact that he’d lied to an exotic dancer he’d picked up for a two-night stand in Vegas was certainly understandable.

The big questions for her were more profound. Would she have given up her big plans if she’d known about his bank account during those few crazy days? Would she have followed him into the sunset and happily been his arm candy?

Would she have compromised her goals for money?

The fact that she honestly didn’t know made her as edgy and irritable now as it had earlier that morning when Gideon had disclosed his family’s history.

Of course, she’d thoroughly checked out him and his story. After reluctantly confessing her personal history and present regarding Gideon—leaving out the claims about the emerald, since they were too bizarre to consider—she and Andrew had scoured the Internet, hoping beyond reason to find a hole in Gideon’s story, to find doubt that he was the grandson of the infamous Sophia Graystone.

Andrew, with all his high-society connections, had called a friend, who’d called a friend to get the scoop. His people had gleefully confirmed that the rebellious, not-quite-respectable, Indiana Jones–like Gideon Nash was a member of the Graystone dynasty.

Ugh.

Worse, later, when she was alone again she’d found published photos of Sophia wearing the gem that resembled the emerald currently sitting in the Callibro’s Auction House vault. Scheduled to be sold in six days. For millions of dollars.

The Veros family—on record as the current owners of the emerald—and her boss, Mr. Pascowitz, were going to be seriously pissed if Gideon could prove his claims.

Then there was the personal risk to herself and her reputation. She didn’t want her past—of which Gideon was an undeniable part—anywhere near her present. Last year, pictures of her boss’s secretary posing in a beach bikini contest had circulated around the office with much snickering from the men and derisive comments from the women. Shortly thereafter the secretary had been fired for cause—job performance and attendance issues being cited. But in Jacinda’s mind, the photos had precipitated the action.

Just imagine what response pictures of herself in glitter, barely there spandex and fishnets would instigate. The thought made her break out in hives.

The whole business was a damn mess, and yet all Jacinda could think of were hot, wild, inappropriate thoughts about the man causing all the trouble.

The man would be her downfall. She was absolutely certain of it.

As she flung open the door to the restaurant, she reflected on their earlier conversation. She did have plans for dinner.

One of those new spa meals from Lean Cuisine.

But she also had fantasies about spending time with Gideon. And none of them included dinner.

Dessert, maybe.

When her cell phone rang, and she recognized the number as Andrew’s, she answered the call.

“Are you there yet?” he asked.

“Walking in the door.”

“Do you still want me to call in an hour about your urgent appointment?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re weak.”

“And then some.”

“Honey, I would be, too, if that man looked at me the way he looks at you.”

Jacinda sighed. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, right. Stay strong. Keep your blouse buttoned.”

“Got it.”

“And definitely keep your pants buttoned.”

“I’m wearing a skirt.”

“Well, then—”

“Oh, man, there he is.”

Andrew expelled a lustful sigh. “How does he look?”

“Same as earlier. Jeans. White T-shirt.”

“Lip-smacking, in other words.”

Jacinda’s nipples throbbed. “Yep. Pretty much.”

“Go get ’im.”

She halted on her way to the bar. “Andrew!”

“Right. Don’t get him—at least not physically.” He paused. “Can you get him physically, tell me all the details and still have us maintain the integrity of the auction?”

“Oh, hell. I don’t see how.”

“Still, I’d go for it.”

“You’re supposed to be helping.”

“He is really sexy.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“As long as you call me in the morning!”

More frustrated and nervous than ever, especially knowing Andrew had no intention of calling her later to save her, Jacinda ended the call. Heading toward Gideon, she straightened her shoulders and convinced herself she could be calm and cool in his presence.

The bead of sweat rolling between her breasts belied her forced confidence, but she ignored that, too.

She could keep her job and her respectability while sharing a drink with a sexy guy. Even if that sexy guy could threaten her job and respectability. Even if he decided to play this game dirty and threaten to expose her past unless she helped him get the gem it was her responsibility to protect. Even if that guy added the temptation of another hot night or two, where rules and respectability were stifled by lingering kisses and arousing touches.

Sure, no problem.

3

JACINDA STROLLED toward Gideon as if she didn’t have a care in the world and slid onto the bar stool he pulled out next to him. “Johnnie Walker on the rocks,” she said to the bartender.

The guy’s gaze tracked down her body, presumably taking in her pale blue Chanel suit and expensive leather bag. “That’s not a very prissy drink.”

“I’m not a prissy woman.”

“It’s nice to see a high-powered job and fancy office haven’t completely tamed you,” Gideon said as he returned to his seat.

She smiled slightly and accepted her drink. “No, I guess not.”

“My grandmother would call you a great dame.”

“Would she?” After the research she and Andrew had done all afternoon, she supposed that would be a compliment.

“She’d like you even better if you gave her back her emerald.”

“It’s not mine to give.”

“I’ll prove it belongs to my family.”

“I look forward to it. Let’s table that. Tell me what you’ve been doing the last six years.”

Surprisingly, he agreed to her cop-out, for which she was grateful.

The auction had taken its toll on her stamina, and she needed a distraction from imagining the scandal if Gideon decided to go to the press with his story. Somehow, Mr. Pascowitz would manage to blame any problems on her. She’d seen him throw more than one staff member under the bus when his own back was against the wall.

Setting aside thoughts about her boss, she focused on Gideon. However strange and unsettled his life as a finder of lost legacies seemed to her, he clearly relished every minute. He’d been to exotic places she’d rarely seen pictures of, much less dreamed of exploring. While he poked through antique stores, auction houses, pawn shops and estate sales, he also spent many hours in libraries and at universities doing research.

He’d acquired an impressive art collection and learned to speak four languages. He’d interviewed everyone from royalty to the homeless. He’d located people and things that didn’t want to be found. He’d made sure thieves and swindlers were prosecuted. He returned necklaces, rings and even crowns to elderly, teary-eyed ladies.

“Did they all have blue hair?”

He put on a look of mock insult. “Are you doubting the credibility of my stories?”

“You can certainly spin an excellent tale.” And they were probably true, if exaggerated. “What does your upper-crust grandmother think of her treasure-hunting grandson?”

“She mostly approves.” He grinned. “Though she’d rather I donated more of my finds instead of turning them over to their privileged owners. She especially didn’t like me getting Marcus Capwell’s watch back for him.”

“You mean former Senator Capwell?”

Gideon curled his lip. “That’s him.”

“Why didn’t she want you to get his watch back?”

“He stiffed her for the tab one night after inviting her and her friends to drinks at a club.”

She angled her head in confusion. “She’s ticked at him over a bar tab?”

“It was a ten-thousand-dollar tab.”

“Ah. That would do it. So why did you look for it in the first place?”

“Because I’d hoped the trail would lead to some embarrassing places.”

“And did it?”

He grinned. “Definitely.”

“That’s pretty bloodthirsty.”

He toasted her with his beer bottle. “A good thing to remember when dealing with me.”

She met his gaze directly. “You don’t scare me, Gideon. Nothing does. Not anymore.”

He laid his hand over hers, his thumb covering the pounding pulse point at her wrist. “I never thought you were anything less than absolutely brave. In fact…” He stroked her cheek. “I think you’re pretty amazing.”

She leaned back from his touch and looked away. “Deep down, I’m exactly the same as I was six years ago.”

“A dancer?”

“A survivor.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Sure it is.”

He inched forward, holding her jaw against his palm. “So, why are you embarrassed?”

“I’m not.” She forced a smile, even as her mind walked again through the mansions she’d visited over the past few years, each containing priceless treasures, each perfect in every decorating detail, each refined and tasteful.

Then she recalled the dingy duplex where she’d grown up: the stove that rarely worked, the stained carpet, the sputtering candles she’d light because the power was cut off every few months. The desperation and sense of being trapped, forever, in poverty.

Gideon lived in the luxurious world; she pretended she had even an inkling of what kind of privilege was like. Gideon owned famous works of art; she still kept her pasties in her underwear drawer.

“Can we talk about something else?” she asked.

His gaze roamed over her face, and she thought he might push, but he surprised her again by nodding. “Seen any good movies lately?”

“Not too many. I’ve been working long hours on the auction.”

“We should go see that new murder mystery.”

She shook her head. “Too dark. I like romantic comedies. That’s what Andrew and I usually see.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yeah. We usually agree on the same hunky actors.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Jacinda laughed at the less-than-excited expression on his face. “Mmm. Maybe not. How about TV shows?”

There they actually agreed on a few, and the conversation reminded her of the qualities she’d seen in him the night they’d met. She hadn’t been attracted to only his smile, charm and gorgeous face. He’d listened when she talked. He was direct and opinionated, confident and understanding.