The Black Sheep and The English Rose. Donna Kauffman

picked up a menu left behind by the waiter and flipped it open. Not so much as glancing in the direction of the departing Reese. “Well,” she said, sounding quite satisfied, “that went rather splendidly.”

      Finn didn’t know whether to throttle her, go after Reese, or order dinner. Chasing Reese right now would be pointless, as the man almost certainly had a town car waiting at the curb and would be long gone before Finn could exit the room. Felicity Jane could be supremely frustrating, but she was far from stupid, so he trusted she already had a few ideas about where Reese was likely to go next. Which left dinner.

      He opened his menu and skimmed over the list of entrees.

      A moment later he felt Felicity’s toes stroking the inside of his ankle. He didn’t look up.

      She merely laughed and stroked his leg a bit higher. His body—traitor that it was—leapt to life.

      “Don’t be put out with me,” she said, amusement still clear in her voice.

      He continued to look over the menu.

      She sighed, and stopped toying with his pant leg. A moment later she folded her menu, took a sip of champagne, then quite casually said, “Order quickly, darling. We have a hotel room to break into.”

      Chapter 4

      “He won’t come back here.” Finn crouched in front of the hotel door and slipped the demagnetizer through the key card slot. “We’re breaking and entering for no reason.”

      Felicity angled her body so anyone exiting the elevator wouldn’t immediately see what Finn was doing. Or trying to do. “I could have gotten the key card from the bellman; then we wouldn’t be breaking into anything. Technically.”

      Finn stood and opened the hotel door, motioning her inside first. “After you.”

      “Always a gentleman.” She moved past him with a swish of her skirt. “And I agree with you. It’s doubtful he’d come back here after our little dinner party earlier. I’m sure he’s changed hotels by now.”

      “If not cities,” Finn groused, following her inside. “So, pray tell, what are we doing here?”

      “Looking for clues before the cleaning service gets to work.”

      Finn glanced around, taking in the perfectly pristine dresser top and nightstand. “Because someone like John Reese would write fully detailed directions on hotel stationery and leave it carelessly by the bedside telephone?”

      Felicity wandered slowly around the room, eyeing every detail, from the clean surfaces to the way the blinds were set. Then she turned and walked over to the ice bucket and lifted the lid. “Ah.”

      Finn was in the process of opening every drawer in the place, but paused to look at her. “Ah, what?”

      “Ice bucket with melted ice.” She turned once again in a slow rotation. “Gauging from the water left and the state of the ice cubes, I’d say he did come back here after dinner. Surprising.”

      “To pack and check out, most likely, so he could get the hell out of the city.”

      “If so, why get ice?”

      Finn folded his arms. “Maybe he needed a drink to calm himself down after his lovely dinner plans went to hell.”

      “Possibly. Except…I’m thinking he didn’t just come back here to pack.” She wandered into the master bathroom. “Bingo.”

      Finn came to the door and leaned against the frame. “Because?”

      Felicity turned, holding a long-stemmed crystal glass that still had a sip or two left in it. She swirled it, then sniffed. “Champagne. And quite a good vintage.”

      “You can tell that from a sniff?”

      She smiled. “I’m sure some dedicated enthusiasts probably could. Not me.” She stepped around the partitioned shower and picked up the black and gold bottle. “Chantal Neuf. Distinctive packaging. I guess he must have liked the one sip he had at dinner. Or, knowing John, he’s had it before. I’m surprised the hotel would have it in their cellar, though.”

      It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her just how well she really knew John Reese, but instead, Finn walked over and picked up the second glass, careful to use a napkin so as not to smudge prints. “Nice shade of red lipstick.”

      Felicity glanced over her shoulder. “A bit tarty if you ask me.”

      Finn grinned. “What, Reese didn’t treat you to expensive champagne?”

      She set the bottle down and opened the shower door. “The only thing I want from John Reese is that lovely little bauble he’s squiring about town.” She leaned back to look at him around the frosted glass door. “And I’m not talking about the two-legged, tarty one.”

      Finn laughed. “Any ideas who the woman is?”

      “I was rather hoping that was something you’d uncovered in your background search. I wasn’t able to learn anything about his personal life, other than he didn’t seem to have much of one. Apparently he takes being discreet quite seriously. Bully for him, but not so lovely for us.”

      At least that smudge of lipstick somewhat explained his complete disinterest in her earlier this afternoon. She’d oh-so-cleverly had him meet her for tea in her penthouse suite, ostensibly to discuss Foundation business, then make small talk about why he was in town, wheedle a little information. She’d met him at the door with her hair in a towel, covered head-to-toe in a hotel bathrobe, claiming she’d lost track of time after her massage and would he be a dear and pour tea while she dressed?

      She wasn’t one to use sex as a ploy, in either of her avocations, but then, she hadn’t actually planned to have sex with the man. Though, if she were a different sort of woman, it admittedly wouldn’t have been much of a sacrifice. He did have a way about him. A far too clever way, as it turned out.

      She’d left the door to her bedroom carefully ajar, enough to allow him a glimpse of her in her lingerie as she moved from bathroom to closet to dress. She’d called out for him to take off his jacket and make himself at home, hoping her casual slip-into-something-comfortable demeanor would encourage him to let his guard down, perhaps turn his attention more to her personal needs than her business ones.

      Her backup plan if he hadn’t been feeling chatty was to ply him with as much tea as she could muster while drawing him out on the subject of Foundation business, and, if she was lucky, slip a hand into his jacket pockets later while he was making use of the bathroom facilities.

      And her backup plan had worked beautifully, too, netting her a small card case that had included, among other things, a card from Antoine’s and, beneath the cards, a small silver key. She recognized it as a train station locker key, probably belonging to the locker where her lovely sapphire was currently residing. She’d been overjoyed with her finds and quite happy with herself. Right up until the moment she’d heard the private penthouse lift kick into gear, signaling the return of their waiter. And, unfortunately, causing her to completely miss the sound of the toilet flushing. She’d been caught red-handed, as it were. A rare slip for her, but a very costly one.

      She’d tried to talk her way out of it, but Reese was no fool. He’d put two and two together and come to the conclusion that Foundation business wasn’t really why she’d been maintaining contact with him for the past several years.

      To his credit, Reese had been quite the gentleman while divesting her of her dress and hosiery. He’d already retrieved the card case, with key, from her possession, but had ignored her offer to let bygones be bygones. Five minutes later she’d been bound quite efficiently to the bed with her own stockings and his tie.

      Less than ten minutes later, Finn had found her.

      “I do know he doesn’t work with a partner,” Finn said, drawing her attention back to the matter at hand. He was turning the glass so he could look at it under the