Immovable Objects. Marie Ferrarella

He wasn’t accustomed to being ignored, or outplayed. It got under his skin.

      “And why won’t I?”

      Leaving his side, she placed herself before a small canvas, a sketch done by Michelangelo, recently discovered and sold in auction for a million and a half. Regarding it for a moment and still not answering him, she turned her attention to another painting. She moved about as coolly as if they were conducting a discussion about the merits of one artist over another.

      Finally, she said, “Because you can’t risk the scandal of anyone finding out the statue is a fake. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gone through this elaborate charade of having a fake—a very good one I might add—in its place.” She paused, then looked back again at the statue. “Whom did you use? Lorenzo?”

      By plucking the name out of the air, she’d done it to him again. She’d managed to surprise him. Cole didn’t know whether to take his hat off to her in admiration, or get her as far away from him as possible.

      His curiosity tipped the scale for him. “How would you know about Lorenzo?”

      They had worked together a time or two. The older master had been her mentor, teaching her how best to make her work pass as authentic. “Let’s just say it’s a small world.”

      “Not small enough.” His eyes met hers. “I still don’t know who you are.”

      Even if Anthony hadn’t impressed her with the need, time and again, there were some areas where she exercised extreme caution.

      “And maybe it should stay that way.” She saw the suspicion in Cole’s eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your little secret. I don’t want your reputation besmirched.” She smiled beguilingly. “There’s nothing in it for me.”

      He studied her carefully. And made a judgment call. “How about if there was something in it for you?”

      She cocked her head, trying to divine just what it was he was getting at. “You’re not talking about sullying your reputation, are you?”

      Smart lady, she picked up on that, he thought. “No, I’m talking about preserving it.”

      Exercising caution, she slowly waltzed around the subject, neither committing nor rejecting until she knew exactly what he was driving at. “And just how would I do that?”

      He’d already decided that he was going to need help beyond what he already employed. That meant bringing in an unknown. No one fit the description better than this woman, who was still an unknown to him. “By helping me find out who stole the real statue. And then getting it back.”

      She waited for the other shoe to drop. “And I would do this because…”

      “I’d pay you.”

      Cole saw a light come into her eyes and found himself struggling not to be drawn in. The situation struck him as rather humorous. He was a six-foot-two man who was discovering what it felt like to be a moth. And her incredibly beautiful green eyes were the flame.

      A job. He was offering her a job. On her own. Take that, Anthony, she thought. See, not everyone thinks I’m incompetent on my own.

      She did her best to keep the glee out of her voice. “How much?”

      Pragmatic. He liked that. He found he liked a great deal about this woman with no name. Ordinarily, before he struck a bargain with someone, he had them checked out. Dealing with MacFarland originally had taught him to be cautious. The exception to that had been Lorenzo. And since she was acquainted with Lorenzo, he thought it rather ironic that he was entering into an arrangement with her under the same circumstances.

      He needed someone and she seemed to fit the bill.

      “How much do you usually get?”

      She thought it wise to qualify her statement. “That’s assuming I do this kind of thing.”

      He grinned, and she found her stomach experiencing a strange earthquake.

      “I think we’ve already established that,” Cole said. “I don’t know how you got past the lock on the back door. The heat from a hand, or the contact of metal on metal, like bull cutters, sets off an internal alarm. But nothing went off inside when you came in.” He made a note to check the surveillance tape first chance he got. She might not have noticed the tiny camera he had positioned on the opposite wall of the alley. “So that means you’re a professional and good at your job. I don’t know if your little floor show’s part of it—”

      “That was impromptu, as was coming here after hours,” she cut in. “I told you, I wasn’t out to take the statue, just to satisfy my curiosity.”

      That still didn’t make any sense to him. It smacked of a recklessness he was going to have to make sure she kept under control while working for him. “And that’s worth a jail sentence?”

      “I wasn’t planning on getting caught.” She looked up at Cole, her eyes challenging him.

      “But you were.”

      It was a matter of semantics. “Only in the strictest sense of the word.”

      Cole had a feeling that she would eagerly argue an opponent into submission. More interested in finding the real statue, he switched gears.

      “Does that mean you’re going to help me?”

      Although the man before her intrigued Elizabeth more than anyone she’d come across in quite some time, she didn’t want to appear desperate for a job. That would leave her holding no cards and it was all about control now. Having left Anthony, she wasn’t about to hand over the reins to another man.

      “We’ll talk.”

      The smile she gave him made him want to do more than just talk. A great deal more.

      He was right, Cole thought as he led the way out of the room. The lady was trouble. But trouble, he had to admit, had never looked quite so inviting or intriguing before.

      Chapter 4

      Leading the way, Cole brought her into a small but tastefully furnished office that was a little way off the main room.

      The highly polished wooden floor was new, the Napoleon brandy he poured and offered her was old. Accepting it, Elizabeth sat down in the chair that was positioned before his desk.

      All in all, Elizabeth felt very comfortable in a world in which she knew she really didn’t belong. For the moment she did and there was nothing wrong with pretending. Pretense made a wonderful bridge from here to there. She’d gotten through a great many situations that way.

      Nursing her drink, very aware of the man who was studying her, Elizabeth carefully took in her surroundings without appearing even to be aware of them. Another talent she’d honed while under Jeremy’s tutelage. She was actively alert to all possibilities, including the one represented by the man in the room.

      Before ever entering the gallery, she’d gone out of her way to learn as much as she could about Cole Williams. It was in keeping with the fact that she made it a point never to walk into anything without first knowing something about either the person she was dealing with or the place she was venturing into. Survival often depended on it.

      Williams had begun small, taking a minor inheritance left to him by his late mother and parlaying it into a large nest egg. Buying and selling choice companies and surrounding himself with the right people, he’d turned that money into a veritable fortune. According to the latest financial magazines, Cole Williams was easily one of the ten richest men in the country, owning a cable network as well as a publishing empire, all well before the age of forty.

      From the looks of him, Elizabeth judged that he was a regular visitor to the gym he owned.

      Raising her eyes from his hard, muscular form and looking up into his eyes, she saw a man who was confident, who knew his own destiny because he was in charge of making it happen.