Becca fumbled with the stone, which bounced onto her thigh. She slapped a palm over it, catching it on her knee.
The guard? No, he was already inside. Had his snoring body tilted against the door?
She had forgotten to relock it.
Ducking beneath the white tablecloth, she took cover in one fluid movement.
Whoever had entered was not using a flashlight and didn’t flick on a light switch. Save for the soft tread of shoes on concrete, tracing the path Becca had taken down the first aisle, the intruder was absolutely silent.
A rumble of snores alerted her. Was the guard waking up? Why would someone walk in and not wake the guard? Must have ulterior motives.
“Hmm, pink silk rimmed with Swarovski crystal.”
Becca tugged the toe of her shoe under the cloth.
“Uh-uh, I saw that. The soles are red, which can only be—” with a shimmy, the white linen rose before her to reveal his Cheshire cat smirk “—Christian Louboutin. Got ya, love.”
“What are you doing?” she whispered, more forcefully than she should have. Dane knelt before her. “And what…how?” She leaned forward and gripped Dane by the shoulders. Nice, strong… “You have this absolutely freakish ability to identify women’s designer footwear. How is that?”
“Money laundering case last year—which ended in multiple homicides. One victim was an old biddy who had Imelda’s fetish for shoes. Blood everywhere, even on the Manolo Blahniks.”
“Right. Do you happen to notice the camera?”
“Yes, but I’ve got a nice shiny badge as an excuse to be here. What’s yours?”
An interrupted snore indicated Large Wide Guy had woken.
“Sit tight, love. Time to let the big boys handle this.”
“Big boys?” she mouthed as Dane rose and walked away.
She liked playing with the big boys. Becca liked to tell them what to do, and then watch them scramble to try to please her. But let them handle the job? For now…
“Agent Aston Dane.”
…she’d sit tight, out of camera range.
Crouched beneath the table, Becca listened intently as Dane spoke to the guard. As she did so, she leaned forward, forming a cocoon with her arms around her knees, pressed the penlight on and flashed the beam over the diamond in her palm.
“You were sleeping on the job,” Agent Dane stated. “I was able to simply walk through an unlocked door—and over your large body, I might add.”
“The door was locked. I checked it myself, monsieur—”
“I could have absconded with millions of euros worth of gemstones and art pieces. Explain that to me.”
“There was a woman, monsieur.”
“A woman?”
Dane’s laughter concealed Becca’s fumble. The diamond fell on the hard concrete floor. Her hands were actually shaking!
“And what did she do to you, monsieur, give you a Vulcan nerve pinch?”
Becca winced. If he only knew.
“A large man like you? Don’t you know the big boys never let a little girl get the better of them?”
Little girl? Oh yeah?
“I’m going to have to call this one in.”
She heard Dane flip open his phone.
“Please, monsieur, it is my first job. I…”
“Well…” there was a dramatic pause “…you’re a lucky bloke. I’ve scanned the room. There’s no one in here. Nor does there appear to be anything missing. But we must have the auction manager take a look.”
“There’s a manifest of the items in a room across the hall. I could go get it. Mon Dieu, I cannot lose this assignment, monsieur, I have bills to pay. A girlfriend with a baby!”
“And whose fault is that? Don’t you believe in the sanctity of marriage, monsieur?”
Oh, but he was laying it on thick.
There. The microscope zoomed in on… Definitely letters. But they didn’t make sense. Letters and symbols and pluses—an equation or a formula? The first line was short. Tugging out the notepad, Becca copied it.
“Fine,” Dane conceded. “You run and get the manifest. I’ll stand guard outside the door.”
The door creaked open.
“Time to move, love. I’ll mark your exit as soon as the camera switches—now!”
Becca snaked her body up to look over the table. She could see Dane’s hand frantically motioning. Tilting up the glass case, she slipped the diamond back into its steel-pronged nest, and then scrambled for the door.
Stopping her abruptly, Dane put both hands to the sides of her head. “When you get home, young lady…!” A smirk covered his false anger. “Skedaddle,” he said.
And skedaddle she did.
Mackerel on toast and black caviar arrived ten minutes after Becca’s return to the room, along with the promise a tuxedo was on its way. Dane had returned minutes ago. Without a word he’d excused himself to take the shower he had somehow gotten sidetracked from earlier.
His anger was evident in the icy look he’d flashed her way. Had he been listening? Waiting for her to slip out? Obviously.
He’d saved her butt back there.
Score one point for the big boy.
Attacking the mackerel toast with vigor—because no one was looking— Becca didn’t even taste the first slice. Scooping up a spoon of caviar, she downed the second piece just as quickly. It was a far cry from a full meal. On the other hand, it would keep her tummy flat for whatever gown Kristi had sent. Speaking of which…
The auction started in an hour, so Becca shimmied into the black strapless Emanuel Ungaro gown she found hanging in the garment bag. It had a wicked slit up the right leg she could adjust with a toothless plastic zipper. A small diamond-studded black ribbon bow topped the slit and concealed the zipper. Right now she set it to just above the knee. A higher slit might be required later; she’d play that hand if needed.
A glance to the shoe trolley below the dress hook landed on steel-spiked heels. Black patent leather Manolos. Nummy.
Padding barefoot across the room, shoes hooked on her thumbs, Becca powered up her laptop. After typing in the few letters she’d scribbled down while under the table, she saved the file: [d_code.doc.]
She did a mental tally of the time difference as she dialed up Alan Burke through iChat. No problem; she wouldn’t be waking anyone in New York. Alan should be in his secret basement office at the Gotham Roses brownstone on 68th Street.
“Alan.”
“Becca! I was disappointed not to send you off from New York.” On the laptop screen his words were just ahead of his facial movements.
“Couldn’t be helped. I had to hop right onto the plane to England. I’m in Paris now.”
“Mais oui, I recognize the decor in your room—the Hotel Regina. Adore it. Did you get the room they used in La Femme Nikita?”
“A movie?”
“Girl, you so need to study popular culture. Does the bathroom have a stained glass window?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the one! Cool. So, I can’t see you.…”
“Sorry.” Becca leaned toward the laptop’s small optical lens. “Haven’t much time. I’m dressing as we speak. Agent Dane is in the shower—”
“Who is?” Kristi Burke’s auburn curls and curious smile appeared on the computer screen, nudging out Alan. “Did you just say you have a man in your shower?”
“Yes, but it’s not what you think. He’s with MI-6.”
“Oh. Well then, that explains everything. Not!”
“I’m working with him on the case.”
“Oh, you bet.” Alan winked. “I’ve been in contact with Zeek. She wanted me to send you the essentials. Your bidding number is somewhere in the room.” Alan appeared to look to the left of the screen, as if he could see around her room. “Ah, there, over by the vase of flowers.”
Becca paused and leaned over the monitor. “How’d you do that? Are there cameras in here?”
“I wish. It was a guess. Kristi sent the roses, along with the dress.”
“Thank you, Kristi. It fits perfectly.”
“You’ve such a gorgeous figure to work with, Becca. It’s not stick-straight like a model, but has some curves to make it interesting.”
“Oh la la,” Alan sang. “Gotta love those curves.”
“As if you notice.” Kristi shoved Alan’s face out of the range of the camera.
Becca turned and spied the auction number sitting below the massive vase of flowers. “The number is here.”
“You told Zeek you thought there was a code in the diamond?”
She nodded. “I no longer think there is, I know there is, and I’ve had opportunity to write down a few lines. It makes no sense. I checked out the diamond. Just in case something goes wrong tonight.”
“Smart.”
“It’s some sort of mathematical equation. Maybe. I only got part of it. I’ve typed it into a document and am sending you and Zeek the file right now.” She attached the file to an e-mail and hit Send.
“I’m getting it,” Alan replied. “Together, Zeek and I should be able to figure it out and let you know exactly what it is, as well as who you’re chasing.”
“Did you get the earrings? They should have arrived by courier express,” Kristi stated.
“Let me check.” As far as Becca knew, only the clothing had been delivered to her room— Ah. There, sitting bedside, as if placed there by a thoughtful valet, sat a shiny black jewelry box. Jean Paul had mentioned a smaller box.
Retrieving it, Becca eyed the monstrosities of platinum and diamond it held as she returned to sit before the computer. They were diamond sprays that when worn looked as if they’d curl into her ear.
“I’ll take that awkward silence as a yes.” Alan grimaced.
“They are a bit gaudy,” Becca said. She knew Alan hadn’t designed them. One of his contacts in Paris had.
“But not for this ball. It’s all about the carats, darling. Who has them, who can wear the big ones.”
“And he likes to wear the big ones.” Kristi’s voice sounded right behind Alan’s.
“At least I date, Miss Hausfrau.” It looked as if he pushed Kristi aside with a playful shove. “Put them on.”
“Putting them on,” Becca said as she secured the clip earrings. “Now what?”
“Tap the largest diamond on your right ear,” Alan instructed.
Becca did. “Okay.”
“Just wait… I’m sequencing…there it is.”
The image of her laptop featuring Alan’s face appeared in a new iChat window. “It’s a camera.”
“Snap everyone’s mug, darling. Zeek will be your contact tonight. She will run stats on every face you record. The range is about ten feet. There’s a microphone in the other earring, with a receiver that’ll pick up your voice and anything within an eight-inch range.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Alan.”
“Talk to you soon. I may tune in later to listen.”
“Oh? So how do I turn these things off?”
“Why? Have you a wet Englishman you want to keep all to yourself?”
“He’s not your type, Alan. He’s moody and cocky. And he’s definitely a ladies’ man.”
“Ah well, had to try. The clip on the back of the earring adjusts the volume. Once you exit your room, keep it on high.”
Lowering the volume, she thanked them both.
Becca caught Alan’s blown kiss as she shut off the laptop and turned to pick up the Manolos. The heels were steel spikes that would serve as a deliciously deadly weapon should she need one.
Standing and turning before the cheval mirror, she admired the costume. Becca Whitmore would never be seen in public in such a thigh-baring number. The socialite side of her was more refined, a charitable hostess who always wore a smile and knew the names of all the trendsetters, and was famous for getting things done right. She could raise millions without breaking a sweat, and converse on a variety of topics from culture to books to fashion.
But her alter ego? She could so work these shoes.
The thought that she might meet up with Large Wide Guy later stirred her to investigate the remainder of clothing and accessories provided in the black nylon sports bag.
As she dug out a blond bobbed wig, Becca complimented the Gotham Roses’ wardrobe mistress. “Good girl. All the essentials.”
She tugged on the wig. Perfect fit. Turning before the mirror again, she decided she looked a little bit punk with lots of sass. Very chic.
Big boys, look out.
The shower stopped and it suddenly occurred to Becca she wasn’t prepared to face a wet Englishman who might emerge from the bathroom in a towel.
For a moment she indulged herself in the image of a hasty fling, clothes falling to the floor and body parts twining as the two of them landed on the bed in a flurry of passionate kisses.
Becca shook her head. The blond bob swung sharply.
“Don’t go there, girl. Not when you need to be on your toes.”
A knock at the door redirected her straying libido.
Letting in the valet, Becca nodded in approval. Room service and a Christian LaCroix tuxedo. She tipped the young man and he left.
Becca strode to the bathroom door and, before knocking on it, listened. Dane was whistling again, but not a symphony. This tune sounded jazzy. A man of many musical flavors… Chalk up another point for Agent Dane.
With a smile, Becca knocked, and then announced, “I’m going down to the auction, Dane. It’s in the Salons de Marsan and de Flore. Your tux arrived. I’ll meet you there?”
“Give me ten minutes!”
“Great. Do eat some of the mackerel toast before you come down.”
“Yes, mum.”
Smirking, Becca left the big boy to his jazz.