Entrapment. Kylie Brant
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the hard length of his, the position much too intimate. Hips to hips. Breast to breast. Even their breath mingled. She moistened her lips, saw his gaze track the action and felt a thrill flicker through her at the desire in his eyes.
Juliette let her eyelids flutter, felt her stomach do the same. “Now that you’ve caught me, Sam, what are you going to do with me?”
Her question hung heavy in the night, the answer all too apparent in his expression. She’d seen passion on a man’s face often enough to identify it. His gaze was arrowed on her mouth, and the hard curve of his own drew closer. Despite the insulated suit she wore, it would be difficult to miss the signs of his growing arousal. The stillness around them hummed with chemistry and it became increasingly difficult for her to breathe.
His eyes slitted. “First,” he murmured, his voice raspy, “I’m going to relieve you of this.”
Before his words even registered, his touch did. He shifted, one hand going to the pouch at her waist. She tried to jerk away, but she was still caught securely beneath him. The necklace glittered as it dangled from his grasp.
He gave a low tuneless whistle. “Nice.” With a deft movement, he shoved it inside his shirt. “Not sure if it’s worth the price you’re going to pay, but I’ll let you be the judge of that.”
Her gaze narrowed. Given his careless tone, she would almost think she’d imagined the moments earlier. And if there wasn’t physical evidence to the contrary, perhaps she would. But they were pressed too closely together for him to hide it.
From bitter experience Juliette knew the importance of controlling emotions. With that kind of control came power. Others could be manipulated through their feelings if one was able to remain detached. She understood that concept, embraced it.
So it shouldn’t have been so infuriating that Sam Tremaine was obviously capable of the same.
Her tone belittling, she said, “And you call me a thief.”
“Honey, you are a thief. And from what I witnessed tonight, a damn good one.” When she tried to pull her wrists free from his grip, he tightened his hold. “Easy to see how you’ve escaped capture for so long. That little double you had standing in for you in Paris was sheer genius.”
Since it was useless to deny it, she merely angled her jaw. “Not genius enough to fool you, apparently.”
He gave a modest shrug. “You’ve been under surveillance for months, Juliette.” When he saw her eyes widen he said, “Does that surprise you? I have more pictures of you than your own mother probably does. Videos of you walking. Shopping. Eating. Flirting.” His voice got lower, grew almost caressing. “I know the way you move. The way you tilt that little chin of yours when you’re telling someone to go to hell.” His index finger tapped her chin, and she flinched. She felt like she was being stripped bare by his words, his revelations leaving her exposed and vulnerable. If he were telling the truth, how could she have not known it? Been aware of it?
And because she felt threatened, she lashed out. “Sounds perverted, Tremaine. If your pastime is stalking women, you need to find a new hobby.”
“Not women, Juliette. Just you.” The single syllable of his last word reverberated between them. “It wasn’t enough to learn your identity. To track you down. I had to learn to think the way you do.”
Of all the things he’d said so far, this was by far the most insulting. “Now you’re telling me you know how my mind works?”
“I’m beginning to, I think. You’ve got nerves of steel. You’d have to. It was possible that you’d wait me out after I approached you at the consulate party. Very possible you’d engage in a game of wits with me. So the woman who looks so very like you in your penthouse, the one who never strays too close to any of the windows, could be mistaken for you.”
Stubbornly she remained silent. Dammit, it should have worked. Had, more than once. “You followed me.” The realization burned. There was no way he could have known her target. She’d deviated from the schedule, so even if he’d been privy to it, he couldn’t have predicted her intention.
He shifted his weight a little, allowing her to breathe more easily. “I was counting on the probability that the most notorious thief on the continent would have a healthy ego. Why be kept inactive when you could make a fool out of me and continue your work, right?” Because there was enough truth in his words to sting, she refused to answer. It didn’t seem to bother him. “You made a fairly convincing teenage boy. I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”
“You couldn’t have watched all the exits yourself.” He didn’t answer, and her stomach went queasy. How many people did Tremaine have working with him? And how was this going to impact her own plans, years in the making?
The inner questions stilled as he rose, pulling her to her feet. “We’ve wasted enough time. C’mon.” While her wrists were still gripped in his hand, he used the other to divest her of the pouch at her waist. “We can continue this discussion on the way back to Paris. As a matter of fact, there’s quite a bit we have to discuss.”
His arrogance was astounding. “Even supposing you could actually manage to hang on to me while we get off the roof and make our way back to Paris, what makes you think I’ll be any more cooperative now than before? No one else saw me in that gallery. You have the necklace, not me.” A tiny smile began to play around her mouth. “I think you overplayed your hand here, Tremaine.”
He took a step closer to her and she shivered involuntarily. Gone was the handsome charmer. His gaze was flat, his face hard. All that remained was the air of danger she’d sensed the first time she’d seen him.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking this is a game, Juliette. Once we’re back in Paris you’re going to do exactly what I tell you.”
She gave an incredulous laugh. “If you believe that, you didn’t research me nearly well enough. What makes you believe I’d ever agree to cooperate with you?”
He grasped her elbow and began guiding her toward the fire escape. “Because if you don’t, I’ll see to it that your grandmother spends the rest of her life in prison, in a cell right next to yours.”
Chapter 3
Sam watched Juliette stalk from room to room in her luxurious Paris penthouse like a sleek feline on the prowl. And when she slammed the door of the last empty room and strode toward him, he braced himself in case she pounced.
“Where is she, Tremaine?”
He didn’t make the mistake of underestimating the danger in her lethal purr. Not when it was coupled by that gleam in her eye. Nor did he pretend to misunderstand her.
“Your grandmother is safe with some associates of mine.”
Juliette placed her balled-up fists on her hips, he assumed in an effort to restrain from using them on him. “I want to see her. Now.”
Sam shook his head. He’d been up for two days. The sun had risen hours ago, and it would be several more hours before he’d get any sleep. During the near silent train ride back to Paris his leg had stiffened up on him, and right now his thigh was a twisting mass of cramping muscle. Pain tended to piss him off, and she was the cause of that pain, so he wasn’t in the mood to be diplomatic. What he was in the mood for was a stiff Scotch and an hour in a whirlpool. Since he was unlikely to get either any time soon, there would be no concessions granted.
Juliette’s first demand was quickly followed by another. “Then I want to talk to her.”
“You and I have to come to terms first.”
“Let me guess. You’re thinking that you get to set those terms.”
He allowed himself a grim smile. “Well, I am the one holding all the cards here, aren’t I, honey?” Brushing by her, he went to the phone he spotted on the eighteenth-century desk near the window. Picking up the receiver,