Risking It All: The Proposition / The Dare / The Favour / The P.I. / The Cop / The Defender

“Oh, it worked. Maybe too well.” Then Natalie leaned forward and told them everything, pausing only when the waiter served their drinks. Once she’d finished, Rory drained the last of her martini and said, “You were getting bored with your job. This man has offered you the kind of assignment you’ve always secretly dreamed of having. On top of all that, you’re attracted to him. What’s the problem?”

Natalie shifted her gaze from Rory to Sierra.

Sierra shook her head. “Don’t look at me. I think Rory summed the situation up nicely. Unless you don’t think you can pull it off.”

Natalie shook her head. “The job isn’t the problem. I can do it. It’s Chance. He’s the problem.”

“So?” Sierra asked. “Is he going to be any less of a problem if you change your mind and tell him Rachel doesn’t want to turn herself into Calli and fly to Florida tomorrow?”

Natalie thought for a minute. “No, but…”

“You’ll only regret it if you let this opportunity slip by,” Sierra said.

“And you won’t just be saying goodbye to the job. You’ll be kissing off the guy, too,” Rory pointed out. “Are you ready to do that yet?”

Natalie sipped her martini, then set her glass down. That was the real problem. She wasn’t ready to cut Chance adrift. Not yet.

“I thought spending another night with him would get him out of my system,” she said.

“That’s one of the problems with our society,” Sierra said. “We want quick fixes, and sometimes that’s just not possible.”

Narrowing her eyes, Natalie glanced from to Sierra to Rory. “I wanted the two of you to talk some sense into me.”

Rory shot her a bland look. “I thought that’s exactly what we were doing.”

“We think you ought to go,” Sierra said.

Natalie ran her finger around the rim of the martini she’d hardly touched. “I should probably tell him that I’m Natalie.”

“Why? It’s Rachel he invited along,” Sierra pointed out.

Rory grinned at her. “Do you really want to go back to being Natalie yet?”

“No.” She wasn’t ready to give up being Rachel Cade yet. “But I’ve never tried to be two people at once before.”

Rory rolled her eyes. “You can’t have forgotten that Halloween when you were Wonder Woman and you kept slipping away from us so you could reappear and terrorize us as Jason from Friday the Thirteenth. You did it three times before we figured out it was just you.”

Natalie laughed. “I had forgotten that. Still, this is a little different.”

“Do you still want Chance Mitchell?” Sierra asked.

“Yes, but…”

“That’s Natalie talking,” Sierra pointed out. “How does Rachel feel about it?”

Natalie grimaced. “She’s the one who said ‘yes.’”

“What about Calli?” Rory asked.

“She’s got her bags packed.”

“There you go,” Rory said. “Two to one—they’ve outvoted you.”

Sierra reached over to take her hand. “Calli and Rachel are parts of you. Maybe it’s time you trusted them.”

Grinning, Rory lifted her glass in a toast. “To quote Harry, ‘trust in your talents.’”

Sierra smiled and raised her glass. “‘Risk anything it takes.’”

CHANCE STRODE into the bedroom and checked the suitcases for the third time since Natalie had left. The designer name luggage looked well used. Brancotti would notice that. He was a man who noticed everything. Not even a small detail would escape him. And new luggage would give rise to questions.

That had been the reason that he’d urged Natalie to pack some of Rachel’s clothes as well as the new things they’d purchased for “Calli.” He’d insisted on stopping by Natalie’s place where “Rachel” was staying so she could collect her belongings. Flipping open the top of one of the smaller pieces, Chance fingered a lace camisole in a shade of icy pink. He’d often wondered what Detective Natalie Gibbs had worn beneath those tailored suits. In his mind, he’d pictured the stereotypical black lace, but for some odd reason, he found the pale pastel shade even more alluring. Of course, he’d known that Natalie had her vulnerable side. What he hadn’t known was that it would appeal to him just as much as her strength did.

When he caught himself reaching for Rachel’s cosmetic bag, he stopped himself. He’d already checked it and assured himself that it contained a mix of new and old makeup—just as any woman’s would. The only question he wanted in Brancotti’s mind was how much Steven Bradford would pay for the Ferrante—the diamond that had already caused the death of a fellow agent.

For a moment, he let himself think of Venetia Gaston, the woman who’d been his partner during his last encounter with the man who now called himself Carlo Brancotti. For two years, he’d blamed himself for Venetia’s death. He’d set up the meet, and it should have gone smoothly. Carlo was to bring the diamond he’d just stolen and Venetia was to turn over the money. Then Interpol would move in. But Venetia had never reached the spot where the exchange was to take place. Carlo had intercepted her somehow. When they’d found her body, the money had been gone, and she’d had a fake diamond in her purse.

Chance firmly pushed the image of Venetia out of his mind. Dwelling on a past mistake was not going to help him now. He drew his thoughts back to the present and lifted a skinny little tank top that he’d had “Calli” model for him earlier in the day. This time he wasn’t taking any chances. He was going to face his old nemesis himself, and he was taking someone in with him that Brancotti would have no way of knowing. Chance’s lips curved slightly. How could Brancotti know that the sexy woman known as Calli was also a tough cop who was equally adept at handling a gun and opening safes?

Chance dropped the tank top and closed the suitcase. The suite had suddenly seemed empty when she’d walked out. Her request to meet with her “cousins” had surprised him, but it had made sense. Of course, she would want to let her sisters know that she was leaving town. But what if she had second thoughts? How could he handle them if he wasn’t there?

Turning, he strode back into the living room of the suite. He’d just have to handle them when she got back. He wasn’t going to Florida without Natalie Gibbs. The file he’d shown her that afternoon was still spread out on the coffee table. He doubted she was aware of it, but when she worked she was all police detective. The intensity of her concentration and the strength of her endurance—both were qualities he’d come to admire throughout the long and grueling day he’d put her through.

She hadn’t once flinched or complained. And not so much as by a twitch of a muscle had she let it be known that anything in his old enemy’s file had shocked her. She’d looked up from it once to say, “You lost your partner?”

“Yes,” he’d said. She deserved to know the truth. “Brancotti killed her.”

“I’m sorry.” Then she’d gone back to reading the rest of the file. When she’d finished and met his eyes, there’d been the look of a warrior on her face.

Recalling it now, he felt more reassured than he’d been since she’d left. The woman who’d read that file wouldn’t back out on him. She wanted to bring Brancotti to justice almost as much as he did. Isn’t that why he’d wanted her with him in the first place?

Or at least partly the reason, he thought as his gaze moved to the foyer, one of the many places in the suite where they’d succumbed to their desires the night before. How many times during the day had he wanted to make love to her again? Hell, he’d nearly pulled her into the woods at Rock Creek Park and taken her there. The truth was he wanted Natalie/Rachel/Calli—all of the women who made up Natalie Gibbs—with an intensity that had him being…cautious. No woman had even made him cautious before.

When the doorbell rang, Chance strode forward to answer it. But it wasn’t Natalie he found on the other side. It was Tracker and Lucas, carrying a brown bag.

“Are we interrupting anything?” Lucas asked.

“No.” Chance hoped that he was hiding his disappointment as he stepped back from the door.

“We thought you might be busy with that blonde you left Sophie’s party with.” Tracker removed a six-pack of imported beer from the bag.

“‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts,’” Chance quoted as he took the one Tracker offered to him. “What’s up?”

“Tracker is worried about you,” Lucas said.

Chance raised his brows. “I’m touched.”

“I’ve been doing a little digging on Brancotti, alias Phillipe Sagan, alias ‘Damien.’ The two of you go back a long way.”

Chance didn’t even let a flicker of surprise show. He’d known that Tracker was about the best there was when it came to running background checks, but he hadn’t expected him to unearth the “Damien” alias. Still, there was no way he could have traced Damien back to that orphanage. “I’ve been tracking him for a long time.”

“And you lost your partner in Rome two years ago,” Tracker said.

“Yes, I did.”

“Besides being dangerous, this man has the reputation of being very smart.” Tracker raised a hand when Chance opened his mouth to give his opinion. “Let me finish. Lucas and I will concede that you’re a very smart man, too. The thing is you nearly had Brancotti for stealing this diamond two years ago. He’s not a man who’ll forget that. Put yourself in his place. There’s a good chance that he took the time to find out exactly who was on his trail then, and that he’s kept tabs on you. He could be expecting you.”

Chance took a swallow of his beer. “I’m sure he is.”

“It could be a trap,” Lucas said.

Chance met his old friend’s eyes. “It could be. But I wouldn’t be where I am today if I ran every time I suspected a trap.”

Lucas glanced at Tracker. “I told you we wouldn’t talk him out of it.”

“Relax,” Chance said. “There’s no way he can suspect my cover. We’ve built it very carefully. Both Steven Bradford and his current love interest have agreed to go into seclusion until this is over. Their private plane will arrive here tomorrow morning. They will be whisked off in a hired limousine and delivered here to this suite where they will stay until the job is done. Steven is shy of the press. I won’t have any trouble passing for him.”

“I want to go in as your bodyguard,” Tracker said. “Someone who hides from the press as much as Bradford does would be eccentric enough to insist on a personal bodyguard.”

Chance shook his head. “The invitation was very specific. One guest. If Bradford tries to bring anyone besides his girlfriend at this point, it could mean he’ll be refused admittance to the estate, and I won’t risk that. Besides, Natalie Gibbs is perfectly qualified to be my bodyguard.”

Tracker and Lucas exchanged looks again.

“You convinced Natalie Gibbs to be your partner then?” Tracker asked.

Chance hesitated for only a second, then cursed himself for it. “Yes.” He knew that both of his friends were studying him more closely now. In another minute they’d demand to know the whole story.

“Natalie never did show up for Sophie’s party, and you left with a blonde,” Tracker pointed out.

“It’s a long story,” Chance said.

Tracker passed a beer to Lucas and took one for himself. “If we’re your backup and rescue team, we deserve to be filled in.”

Since he couldn’t argue with that, Chance took another drink of his beer and then laid it out for them. By the time he was finished, both men were frowning and regarding him intently.

“So she doesn’t know that you know she’s really Natalie Gibbs?” Tracker asked.

“Right,” Chance said.

“Why the masquerade in the first place?” Lucas asked.

“I couldn’t ask without letting her know I saw through the disguise,” Chance said.

“Right,” Tracker said. “That much makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is why you didn’t inform her that you knew who she really was.”

Chance’s brows shot up. “Hey, I didn’t see through her disguise at first. Neither did the two of you.” He’d like to think that he would have seen through it even if he hadn’t overheard her sisters talking. “Even though I quickly realized it was Natalie, that doesn’t change the fact that a very sexy and attractive blonde made a play for me. By the time my brain was functioning again, things had gotten…complicated. I wanted Natalie on this job with me for a number of reasons. My chances were slim to none if I got her pissed at me for not fessing up that I’d known it was her almost from the get-go.”

Lucas’s grin spread slowly. “In other words, you made your bed, and now you have to lie in it.”

“Yeah.” Chance sighed. “Something like that.”

Tracker took a sip of his beer and then asked, “Is she aware of the dangers?”

“She’s read the file. She knows about my last partner. And she knows what kind of man Brancotti is.”

“Okay, so both of you are aware that you’re dealing with a very nasty guy. Have you considered the possibility that there’s someone on the inside of the insurance business who’s on Brancotti’s payroll?” Tracker asked.

Chance met his friend’s eyes steadily. “I’ve had two years to think about how he got away with the diamond the last time. He had to have been getting inside information to steal the diamond in the first place. That’s why I insisted that no one could know the route that Venetia was taking that day except me.”

Tracker frowned. “And Venetia. You think she was the traitor?”

“I’ve given it some consideration. Carlo’s quite a ladies’ man. Perhaps he used her, then killed her because she’d served her purpose and he didn’t want to share. This time I’m working on my own. No one at the insurance office knows I’m going in as Bradford. I haven’t even told them that the Ferrante diamond has resurfaced.”

“I told you he’d be on top of it,” Lucas said, then glanced at Chance. “Tracker here’s a real worrywart.”

“Humor me,” Tracker said as he passed a slip of paper to Chance. “That’s my private cell phone number. You’re the only person who can call me on it. As long as you’re on that estate, I’ll be close by.”

Chance glanced at it, memorized it and handed it back.

“You better make sure that Natalie memorizes it, too,” Lucas said, “just in case.”

“Done,” Chance said.

Tracker leaned back and for the first time since he’d entered the room, he smiled. “One other thing.”

“Yeah?”

“What happens when Rachel finds out that you’ve known all along she’s really Natalie?” Tracker asked.

“I’ll handle it,” Chance said. And he wished to hell that he felt as confident as he sounded.

8

“YOU’RE SURE you’ve got it?” Chance asked as the limousine pulled away from the Meridian. There wasn’t even a hint of the sun in the eastern sky, and the street-lights they passed offered only intermittent illumination in the car.

Natalie gave him a sharp salute. “Aye-aye, sir. From the time we step on the plane we are no longer Chance Mitchell and Rachel Cade. We are Steven Bradford who’s just made another million or two this morning and his new best friend, Calli.” She tilted her head to one side. “You really think Brancotti might have Steven Bradford’s plane bugged?”

“It’s been sitting on the runway since yesterday evening. I’m banking on it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re hoping he bugged it, aren’t you?”

“I want to give Brancotti every opportunity to assure himself that we are who we say we are. Most of the others he invited for his little auction are returning clients. Steven Bradford is an unknown, and Brancotti is very cautious.”

Natalie had to hand it to him for thinking of allowing Brancotti to wire the plane. Everything so far about the cover that Chance had built for them had won her admiration. As far as she could tell, nothing had been overlooked. The small purse she carried contained a driver’s license, passport and several well-worn credit cards that identified her as Catherine Weston. The driver’s license was from San Diego, California, and would expire in eight months. But if Brancotti ran a check on Catherine Weston, now “Calli,” he would find that she’d been born and raised in a small town, nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Under Chance’s careful supervision, she’d spent three hours boning up on Catherine Weston’s background instead of sleeping. And once the real Calli had arrived at the hotel, Natalie had spent another three hours studying and talking with her.

Natalie stifled a yawn. She hadn’t slept more than two hours, but how could she complain when Chance was being just as thorough as she always was when she adopted a new persona. A perfectionist. That was the one word she would use to sum up Chance’s approach to this job, and she had no choice but to admire him for it.

She glanced at him and saw that he was using a pocket flashlight to read the open file on his lap. The Steven Bradford disguise was excellent, and as Natalie studied him, she marveled again at how far it went beyond the wrinkled tan suit he was wearing.

The tiny lines that furrowed his brow as he frowned at something he was reading were new. So was the way he ran his fingers absently through his hair. Body language, she knew, was as important as the costume in creating an authentic disguise. She watched his fingers toy with the edges of the manila folder on his lap, folding the edge back and forth. She would have been willing to bet that Chance Mitchell had never fidgeted in his life. He was the most self-contained man she’d ever met. The only time she was certain of what was on his mind was when they were making love.

What would the man sitting across from her be like in bed? Would the perfectionist streak in Chance force him to carry the impersonation of Steven Bradford that far?

One thing Natalie did know from the time she’d spent with the real Catherine Weston—the woman’s relationship with Steven Bradford went beyond her ambition to become a supermodel. The dreamy look in her eyes when she’d spoken about Steven was a dead giveaway. Natalie would have bet good money that Catherine Weston had fallen hard for the software billionaire.

Did Chance’s Steven Bradford have similar feelings for his Calli, she wondered? If so, she had no doubt that Chance would have carefully noted it in that mental notebook she suspected he carried with him. What would the perfectionist in him force him to do with the knowledge?

One thing Natalie knew for certain—her Calli was not going to wait much longer to find out. One of the many things she’d learned about her namesake was that she had boundless energy and enthusiasm—and Natalie was sure it extended to the physical side of her relationship with Steven Bradford. Gut instinct told her that Catherine Weston had even fewer hang-ups than Rachel Cade. And she couldn’t wait to try out that facet of Calli’s personality.

A sliver of pure excitement shot up her spine. For the first time, she admitted to herself how much she really wanted to work at Chance’s side during this operation. She was definitely her father’s daughter, and for the first time in her life, she wasn’t going to feel guilty about embracing that part of herself. Instead, she was going to enjoy it, and she was also going to enjoy exploring a relationship with Chance.

There’d be a price to pay. There always was. But as she watched Chance turn his flashlight off and insert it in the breast pocket of his shirt, she knew that however she was going to pay for saying yes to Chance Mitchell’s proposition, she was sure it was going to be worth it.

And she had plans for him. He’d evidently been satisfied after one night with Natalie. And last night he’d been able to resist making love to Rachel. But his one-night stand days were over. Calli was going to see to that.

CHANCE WAS very much aware of Natalie’s eyes on him. Just as he was fully aware of the excitement radiating from her in little spurts. She might look like Calli, but right now her body language was totally Natalie’s. Her arms were folded across her chest and her foot was tapping. He knew exactly what she was feeling because he felt it, too. He was equally impatient for the adventure to begin. There was nothing like going up against a worthy and challenging opponent.

What worried him a little was that challenging Brancotti wasn’t all that was on his mind. He was also thinking of being with Natalie. And those thoughts were distracting him from the file he was reading. It was taking him twice as long as usual to memorize Tracker’s latest surveillance map of the Brancotti estate. Swamps bordered the estate on two sides, and they were kept well stocked with alligators. That left two avenues for escape in an emergency. Through the entrance gate on the western side or by boat on the ocean side.

A red dot just inside the southern edge of the swamp marked where Tracker had hidden an inflatable boat. Hopefully, all would go well, and they could use it to meet Tracker once they had the Ferrante diamond.

Pocketing the flashlight, Chance closed the file and for the first time since they’d entered the limo, he met Natalie’s eyes. “Ready?”

“What did you have in mind?”

The grin she flashed him and the quick arch of her back told Chance he was dealing with Calli now. As Rachel, Natalie was slower moving and much more aware of her effect on the opposite sex. She knew to a T what she had in her arsenal, and she matched the weapon to the man.

Calli was more spontaneous, and her heart ruled her head. She didn’t even think about attracting men, but everything she did, including the back stretch, was incredibly sexy.

“You’re very good at impersonation,” he said. So good that he was wondering how being Calli would affect her response the next time he touched her.

“So are you.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “Right now I’m wondering what it will be like to make love to Steven Bradford.”

“Rachel, I—”

She leaned closer, and he caught her scent.

“Aren’t you wondering what it will be like to make love to Calli? We could find out.” She reached for his tie, but before she could pull it off, he grabbed her hands.

“We’re almost to the airport. If you’ve got any questions about the plan once we get to the estate, now would be a good time to ask them.”

Natalie raised her brows. “Plan? I wouldn’t call what we have a plan exactly.”

“Sure it is,” Chance said easily. “Find the safe, pick a time to crack it, replace the real diamond with the fake one that Brancotti left behind the last time, and then leave.”

“It’s a little short on the details,” Natalie pointed out.

Chance was beginning to enjoy himself. Whether she realized it or not, Detective Natalie Gibbs was beginning to shine through, and he found he’d missed her. “You’ll just have to trust me. We’ll improvise the details as we go. If you’re nervous, you can just follow my lead.” He regarded her steadily for a moment. “Unless you think you can’t keep up.”

Her chin lifted, and Chance had to bite back a grin.

“I’m way ahead of you,” she said. “My plan is to charm Carlo into giving me a tour of the house and see if I can spot the safe.”

Chance frowned. “It’ll be better if we take the tour together.”

As the limousine pulled to a stop, she shot him a Calli smile. “Relax. I’m pretty sure my plan will work faster.”

“You can’t be too obvious.”

Her brows shot up. “I can be very subtle when I want to.”

Natalie didn’t worry him. It was Calli who made him nervous.

Before she got out of the car, she patted him on the knee. “You’ll just have to follow my lead.”

NATALIE GIBBS slept like a rock, Chance thought as he sat across from her, watching her. She’d curled up on the seat across from his the moment the aircraft had reached cruising altitude. When they’d hit some turbulence over Virginia, she hadn’t stirred, not even when he’d pressed his hands briefly against her to keep her on the couch.

He’d been tempted to do more than touch her, but he’d resisted—just as he’d resisted making love to her last night. It had been late when she’d finished her session with Catherine Weston, and he’d pretended to be asleep when she’d slipped into bed beside him. Oh, he’d been tempted then to turn and see which of the two women had joined him—Rachel or Calli. But he’d resisted. And he would be wise to continue resisting until the job was done.