Brief Encounters. Suzanne Forster

that his accomplice might come after the money? Or after me because he believes I have the money?”

      “You’re starting to get the picture,” he said. “If you work with us, we’ll provide you protection. When the accomplice makes his move, we can be there to make ours. You won’t be hurt, and we’ll have our coconspirator.”

      Swan rose and walked to the double doors that led to a balcony above the gardens. White, lacy sheers covered the glass panes. She moved one aside and peered into darkness that was as opaque as an inkwell. The doors were closed, but she could hear the low roar of the ocean, and closer, the purr of traffic on a side street. The beach was always busy in the summer.

      “When do you think this person might make a move?” she asked him. “Am I in danger now?” She needed the truth, no matter how bad it was.

      Rob Gaines considered the value of lying to her and decided against it. There was nothing to be gained by giving her a false sense of security. Right now she was vulnerable enough to listen to what he had to say and frightened enough to accept it.

      “You could be,” he told her, “which is why Joe and I are staying here tonight. I doubt anyone’s going to hit this place, though. They’ll wait for the confusion of the fashion shows. You’re being promoted as the designer of the line, which means you’ll be easy to find, and you’ll be distracted. Thieves love chaos.”

      “Swell,” she said. “I’m being used as bait. I could be thumped on the head at any time, robbed and left for dead. And what happens when this accomplice discovers that I don’t have the five million dollars? I’m history, right?”

      She shoved a handful of auburn hair away from her face and stared him down with an accusatory expression.

      Not if I can help it, he thought. Her rising agitation gave off a scent that was part frightened woman and part French perfume. Both were totally alluring, and both were Swan McKenna. She could be hell in high heels one minute and visibly apprehensive the next, just as she was now. Rob preferred her vulnerable. She was much easier to handle. He was also aware that if she weren’t a suspect, he would have had a hard time keeping his distance. And the hell of it was, he wasn’t sure she would have stopped him.

      “Relax,” he said, his voice softening. “Joe and I haven’t lost anyone yet. We’ll set up a security plan. If you do exactly as you’re told, you’ll be safe. We can protect you, but only if you cooperate.”

      She hugged herself and he could see gooseflesh creeping up her arms.

      “And what do I get out of this,” she asked, “besides a nervous breakdown?”

      “Immunity from prosecution. You’ll probably have to testify against Art and his accomplice in court, but, otherwise, you’re off the hook.”

      “What about Lynne?”

      “That depends on Lynne. Partial immunity, possibly full, if she’s willing to testify.”

      “Immunity from prosecution for something we didn’t do? You’ll excuse me if I don’t sound grateful.”

      She swung her head and cast him a hard glance, her red hair dancing. Rob suspected she was about to slip on her high heels again and give him a hard time. But he didn’t have any more time to play.

      “I need an answer,” he said. “Say yes, Ms. McKenna. It’s the only smart thing to do.”

      Smart or not, Swan wasn’t sure she had a choice. There was no guarantee that Rob Gaines wouldn’t haul her off to jail if she refused to help. That would be disastrous for Brief Encounters, and the bad press could be enough to ruin them, even if her name was cleared. But bait for a sting operation?

      On the other hand, it was also possible that whoever was helping Art Long had been frightened off and wouldn’t come after the money. That would make this whole exercise pointless. But there was no way to be sure of that, and five million dollars was a lot to walk away from.

      “Did you say yes, Ms. McKenna?” Gaines intoned. “I didn’t hear you.”

      “Yes, Ms. McKenna.” She was giving up, but not happily. “You know,” she said, “if you and Joe are planning to go undercover, you could always be underwear models.”

      She took some pleasure in watching his face go pale at the thought.

      “I saw what you put those guys through tonight,” he muttered, “and I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing one of those nut buckets.”

      “Nut buckets?” Swan chuckled. First time she’d ever heard her thongs called that. It was also nice to know that she could still laugh.

      “You’ll have people setting up the stage, doing the lights and the sound, that sort of thing?” he asked. Swan nodded. “Good, because Joe and I will blend in as a couple of workmen. We’ll do everything possible to stay out of your way. But you need to keep in mind that we’re conducting an investigation, and you’re still one of the suspects.”

      “How could I forget? I’m getting tired of protesting my innocence, and you’re probably tired of hearing it, but someday you’re going to be damn embarrassed about the way you’re treating a woman who gives pennies back to store clerks when they make the wrong change.”

      She expected some kind of wisecrack and when it didn’t come she stared at him hard. Maybe she was daring him. “Go ahead and say it,” she invited. “Tell me what an idiot I am for getting myself mixed up in this loan fiasco. But don’t tell me I’m a thief, because I’m not.”

      He was suddenly very serious. The dark lashes lowered, masking his expression. “If you think I don’t want you cleared of these charges, you’re wrong. Nothing would make me happier. I mean it.”

      The way he said I mean it made her stomach go weirdly light. This wasn’t butterflies or anything like it. It was as if the force of gravity had suddenly been lessened and everything might lift right off the ground.

      “Nothing would make you happier? Why would you care what happens to me? You don’t even know me.”

      He lifted his head. “I have my reasons.”

      “Your quest to catch Art Long, right? And I’m your means to that end? Is that why you care?” She told herself to let it go, but she couldn’t. She wanted to grill him. She wanted to put him under bright lights in a darkened room and interrogate him until he surrendered them, one by one. Call it payback.

      Maybe it was her imagination, or just wishful thinking, but she had the feeling he wouldn’t mind spending some time with her in a darkened room, either. He hadn’t smiled, hadn’t even looked as if he might, but there was an energy brewing in the cool blue irises hidden under those lashes, and it was sexual.

      Her soul-searching came to an abrupt end as Joe Harris walked into the room.

      “Everything is booked,” he said to Gaines, who simply nodded.

      It took Swan a moment or two to figure out what he was talking about, and then it hit her that Rob had given Joe her loan check along with the other one. “I’m getting my money back, right?”

      Harris looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “That’s evidence, Ms. McKenna. No way you’re getting that check.”

      “You can’t mean that.” Swan’s voice went faint. “I need that money! Lynne and I have costs to cover for this tour. If I can’t come up with the money, it will ruin our relationship with the boutique chain. They may even cancel the tour, and I still have to pay for the launch party. I put that on a credit card!”

      Harris and Gaines looked at one another. Apparently even tough FBI agents could be surprised.

      “I’m serious,” she said. “Lynne and I went broke getting the line manufactured. Part of the loan from First National was to cover modeling fees, travel expenses and lodging. I won’t even go into the stack of delinquent bills I have on my desk. Without that money, there won’t be any shows.”