Orange Blossom Brides. Tara Randel

Bart.

      Cliché? You bet. Bad Bart Bradbury had named himself and the nickname stuck. Pickpocket Bart was more appropriate.

      He was a thorn in the side of the Cypress Pointe Merchants Association, Max’s current client. They wanted this scourge of society off the streets. When Max heard this description, he wondered what kind of menace terrorized the streets and why on earth his grandmother hadn’t warned him about the criminal element. Then he’d gotten his first glimpse of Bart. A scourge? Far from it. Slippery? Oh, yeah. But Max hadn’t met a criminal he couldn’t capture and bring to justice.

      Determined to close the case file today, Max sported his new spy-cam sunglasses. A perk in his line of work. He loved playing with high-tech gadgets. When Bart proved to be a worthy adversary, Max had purchased the surveillance kit. With the camera mounted on his belt, he resembled another tourist jamming to an MP3 player when he was actually recording Bart’s movements. When Bart slipped up—and he would—the proof would be given to the association, his job done and a check sent to him in the mail.

      Max regarded his subject, shaking his head. A nice enough kid, Bart worked as a busboy on the breakfast shift in a downtown restaurant. Five-eight, shaggy hair, maybe all of nineteen. Somewhere along the way he’d grown tired of his ho-hum life and decided picking pockets made him the center of attention in an invisible life. He didn’t keep the money or the items he pilfered—a wallet here, a cell phone there. Max knew the items “anonymously” appeared on the counter at the police station before anyone could nab Bart. He just wanted people to acknowledge him.

      Maybe he needed a girlfriend.

      Or an hour with Max’s grandmother. Laverne would fuss over him, urge him to stop his pickpocket ways and turn his life around. She’d given Max a talking to on more occasions than he cared to remember, and when he’d thought he’d burned his last bridge with her, he’d finally listened.

      Squinting against the bright April sun, Max focused on Bart as he headed toward the new eatery in town. Max had observed that Bart finished his shift in the early afternoon, then mingled with the tourists who were out in large numbers looking for a place to eat or shop. Instead of following a mark, which was his normal M.O., today Bart waved at two women as they turned the corner to join him on the sidewalk. Max’s eyes narrowed and surprise kicked through him. No way. Miss Charity Coordinator herself.

      He shook his head, not sure if he should growl or groan. Not wanting his quarry to escape without getting the action on tape, Max jumped up from the bench. With a determined stride, he crossed the pavement, edging closer to what he hoped would be the end of this assignment. So far, Bart’s elusiveness had proved to be a wrinkle in his plans. Max was so close to catching Bart. He couldn’t let Lilli Barclay interfere with his goal.

      Oh, yeah, he’d remembered her name once the shock of seeing her had worn off. Then he’d dug around for more. What kind of self-respecting security consultant would he be otherwise? He’d called the historical society office. The lady answering the phone had told Max everything he wanted to know, from Lilli’s family, to where she worked and what coffee shop she frequented. Like he needed to know her coffee preference. But at this point, gaining the upper hand in every situation was the name of the game. And this pretty, pesky society babe constituted a situation.

      Now he had to deal with her again, in a most inconvenient scenario.

      Weaving through the tourists milling around the shop windows, Max focused on his target, stealthily moving closer, working hard to keep his distracted gaze from resting on Lilli. What was wrong with him? He loved this part of the action. The takedown. The adrenaline. But with her nearby, he found it impossible to concentrate.

      Zooming the lens in closer to catch everything on tape, he saw Bart chatting with the two women as if they were all old friends. What was the guy up to? Putting his mark at ease so he could steal a purse when least expected? Could Lilli be his intended mark? He experienced an unexpected wave of protectiveness toward her.

      Only Bart didn’t do anything. He stood with his hands at his sides, in the open, talking to a young woman with...pink streaks in her hair? Lilli stood beside them, listening to their conversation, her eyes going wide when she spied Max. He held one finger up to his lips. She barely nodded before turning her attention back to Bart.

      Relieved she understood his signal, Max walked right past them, ducking into the first open door he found. He scanned the store, recognizing the cluttered gift shop as Milly’s Gifts and Things. A tourist haven, but a bad place to hide.

      He strode to the large storefront window to continue his surveillance. Watching. Waiting for Bart to do something incriminating. But Bart just continued to talk. Max’s blood pressure spiked every time Lilli sent worried glances around her. She had no way of knowing she stood with his quarry.

      Please don’t give me away.

      “You need something, hon?” a cheerful voice asked behind him.

      He glanced over his shoulder at a woman smiling at him. “No, just browsing,” he told her, turning back to peer out the window, trying to see through the array of dream catchers and crystal pendants reflecting the bright sunlight.

      “Can’t do a good job of it if you’re looking outside,” she told him. “If you’d give me an idea of what you’re looking for, I’d be more than happy to help you find it.”

      He turned to face the proprietress, an ample woman with her hands on her hips. He didn’t need this attention right now. He sidled to the exit, apologizing to the woman. “Uh, wrong store. Sorry. I’ll be leaving.”

      Stepping out the door to the sidewalk, Max came face-to-face with Lilli. She opened her mouth to speak but he clamped a hand on her arm to lead her away and explain the situation. Her eyes rounded and a clip dropped from her thick hair, leaving it to fall around her face.

      He leaned down, his mouth close to her ear. “Now is not a good time to talk. I’m working.” He couldn’t afford an obstacle. Especially an attractive one.

      She frowned up at him, pushing her hair from her eyes. “Working?”

      “Undercover,” he said, glancing over her shoulder. Bart still stood engrossed in conversation, unaware of the surveillance focused on him.

      Her eyes grew wider. “Who are you after?”

      “I can’t say,” Max said, still holding Lilli close.

      His fingers brushed over the soft skin at the edges of her short-sleeved blouse. She hadn’t pulled away yet, her gaze still locked with his. All over again he felt the heady rush he’d experienced that night at the beach when she’d looked up at him with those wide, gorgeous eyes. The light from the bonfire had cast a shimmering glow over her face and he’d been sucker-punched right then and there.

      He blinked away the memory and the dizzying connection between them broke. With reluctance, Max loosened his grip. A light blush covered her cheekbones and she fussed with her hair, moving back to put some distance between them.

      Max bent down to retrieve her hair clip, his line of vision to Bart broken. He straightened and held the clip out of reach. “Here you go, Lilli.” He grinned. “Yeah. I remember.”

      She snatched the clip from him. “Thanks.”

      As Max looked around her again, he noticed the young woman with Bart peering in their direction.

      She turned, following his line of vision before a surprised gasp escaped her. “You’re following Bart?”

      “Shh.”

      “What do you think he’s going to do?”

      “Right now I’m worried about what he’s not going to do.”

      “And that is?”

      “Commit a crime.”

      “Oh, please.” She snorted. “Bart?”

      “He’s a criminal.”

      “Well, clearly you