The Black Sheep and The English Rose. Donna Kauffman

my thinking on the matter. However, in keeping with your request for honesty, given how my last encounter turned out, are you certain you want me as a partner?”

      His blue eyes twinkled. “Let’s just say you do more for blue silk than I do.”

      Now her eyes widened. “So, you think I’m going to barter myself for—”

      His gaze darkened. “No, that’s not what I meant. I simply meant you’re far more attractive bait in this particular scenario. Once our fish is hooked, we can proceed in any manner of directions, none of which will require you to—”

      “Dip?”

      “Right. In fact, I’d have a little problem if you felt otherwise.”

      “Then we’re square on that. But it should also be stated that my appearance obviously didn’t get me very far last time. Not that I’d banked on it.”

      Finn grinned. “Then the man must have other proclivities. Or he’s dead from the waist down.”

      She did smile a bit at that. “Perhaps he simply has more discipline and an ability to stay focused on the prize.”

      Finn’s gaze narrowed down so tightly on hers she thought she could feel him touching her. Everywhere.

      “I suppose it would depend on your definition of ‘prize.’”

      She could have sworn her heart rate tripled. “You of all people should know I’m no prize.”

      He gave a little involuntary shudder, and she knew he was remembering the clams. She did feel badly about that, but she’d more than apologized back in Prague. And, had she to do it over again, though she’d try to be less punitive, if push came to shove, the job always came first and she’d do whatever she had to do. Bad clams included.

      “Regardless of past exit strategies, I think we might complement one another in this particular endeavor.” He gave her another once-over. “Great dress, by the way. Makes your eyes this amazing shade of green.”

      There it was again. That offhand sincerity that did odd things to her equilibrium. She was used to meaningless flattery, delivered by men hoping for benevolence from her foundation, or from her directly, of a more personal nature. Either way, it was always a calculated maneuver. It never seemed as such with Finn. When, of all people, it most certainly should.

      “Thank you,” she said, finding she meant it. Despite the mischievous and playful side of him that was always near the surface, she knew him to be an honorable man with a highly regarded level of personal integrity. She doubted he’d sink to useless and hollow flattery as a means to get what he wanted. Certainly not from her, at any rate. “But continuing here, given our past, don’t you think there might be a wee problem with trust?”

      “We were opponents then.”

      “To a degree, we still are. We each want the stone, and there is only one to be had.”

      “I only ask for one thing.”

      She arched a brow and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Which is?”

      “Until the sapphire is in our hands, we operate as a team. No secret maneuvers, no hidden agendas.”

      Her whole life was a hidden agenda. Well, half of it anyway. “And when we have the necklace? Then what?”

      “See? I like how you think. When, not if.”

      “Which doesn’t answer my question.”

      “I don’t have an answer for that. Yet.”

      She laughed. “Oh, great. I’m supposed to sign on to help you recover a priceless artifact, in the hopes that when we retrieve it, you’ll just let me have it out of the kindness of your heart? Why would I sign on for that deal?”

      He turned more fully and stepped into her personal space. She should have backed up. She should have made it clear he wouldn’t be taking any liberties with her, regardless of Prague. Or Bogota. Or what they’d just done on her bed. Hell, she should have never involved herself with him in the first place. But it was far too late for that regret now.

      “Because I found you tied to your own hotel room bed and I let you go. Because you need me.” He toyed with the end of a tendril of her hair. “Just as much, I’m afraid, as I need you.”

      “What are you afraid of?” she asked, hating the breathy catch in her voice, but incapable of stifling it.

      “Oh, any number of things. More bad clams, for one.”

      “Touché,” she said, refusing to apologize again. “So why are you willing to risk that? Or any number of other exit strategies I might come up with this time around? You’re quite good at your job, however you choose to label it these days. Why is it you really want my help? And don’t tell me it’s because you need me to get close to our quarry. You could just as easily pay someone to do that. Someone who he isn’t already on the alert about and whose charms he’s not immune to.”

      “Maybe I want to keep my enemies close. At least those that I can.”

      “Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere. You think that by working together, you can reduce the chance that I’ll come out with the win this time. I can’t believe you just handed that over to me and still expect me to agree to this arrangement.”

      “I said maybe. I also said there were myriad reasons why I think this is the best plan of action. For both of us. I never said it was great, or foolproof. Just the best option we happen to have at this time.”

      “Why should I trust you? Why should I trust that you’ll keep to this no-secret-maneuvers, no-hidden-agenda deal? More to the point, why would you think I would? No matter what I stand here and promise you?”

      “Have you ever lied to me?”

      She started to laugh, incredulous, given their history, then stopped, paused, and thought about the question. She looked at him, almost as surprised by the actual answer as she’d been by the question itself. “No. No, I don’t suppose, when it comes down to it, that I have.” Not outright, anyway. But then, they’d been careful not to pose too many questions of each other, either.

      “Exactly.”

      “But—”

      “Yes, I know we’ve played to win, and we’ve done whatever was necessary to come out on top. No pun intended,” he added, the flash of humor crinkling the corners of his eyes despite the dead seriousness of his tone. “But we’ve never pretended otherwise. And we’ve never pretended to be anything other than what we are.”

      “Honor among thieves, you mean.”

      “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

      “I still don’t think this is wise. Our agendas—and we have them, no matter that you’d like to spin that differently—are at cross purposes.”

      “We’ll sort out who gets what after we succeed in—”

      “Who gets what?” she broke in. “There is only one thing we both want.”

      “That’s where you’re wrong.”

      She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Wrong, how? Are you saying there are two priceless artifacts in the offing here? Or that you can somehow divide the one without destroying its value?”

      He moved closer still, and her breath caught in her throat. He traced his fingertips down the side of her cheek, then cupped her face with both hands, tilting her head back as he kept his gaze directly on hers. “I’m saying there are other things I want. Things that have nothing to do with gemstones, rare or otherwise.”

      She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t so much as swallow. She definitely couldn’t look away. He was mesmerizing at all times, but none more so than right that very second. She wanted to ask him what he meant, and blamed her sudden lack of oxygen