She flicked on the lights as she turned to face him. Her skin looked inviting, soft and so warm he curled his fingers into a fist and held it tight against his thigh to keep from being tempted into touching her inappropriately. The woman needed to be outlawed.
"That would be Hannah Drake. Her family has been here for over a hundred years. I'm not certain, after New York, our sleepy little town would have all that much to offer you. There's not really a night life here, Mr. Vincent. Everything closes up rather early."
He kept his wolfish smile to himself. Sweet little Judith had her suspicions. Now why would an innocent woman be in the least skeptical about a buyer wanting to live in her quaint, charming town? She looked the epitome of cooperation, every graceful movement soothing. Her steps were unhurried as she moved through the spacious, beautiful gallery toward what clearly was an office. One would never think they were in a chess match with such a beautiful, soothing woman gracing the gallery.
He indicated the deserted street. "Doesn't look like a night life, but I noticed a crowd moving around in the store two doors down."
"Every third Friday evening of the month we hold an artist's walk. The various shops participate. We have wine tastings and it's a good draw for a crowd. Usually I open the gallery for the event, but I actually hosted the event in my own shop this evening, which is why I was a little late. Fortunately my sister locked up for me. Ordinarily it's very quiet here at night."
"Just what I'm looking for," he assured her, just as charming right back. He could match her play for play. He was the pro. As smooth as she was, she was still an amateur. He found himself looking forward to the exchange.
She sent him another look from over her shoulder, her silky black hair cascading like a waterfall, adding to the already painful ache in his groin. She looked like an exotic flower, exquisite and rare. And damn it all, it wasn't safe for a woman like her to be showing strange men around an empty gallery at night. She was temptation personified. As much as he didn't want to explore the possibility of her being an agent for another country, the thought still crossed his mind. She was just too seductive without even trying. Her walk. Her dark eyes looking at him over her shoulder through all that smooth, silky hair. She was made for fantasy. For long nights.
Her manner didn't appear affected--in fact, just the opposite. She seemed naturally sensual--something all good agents were trained to be. He'd been uncharacteristic by not calling too much attention to her, not asking for more background, more checks. He cursed himself for falling into the inevitable trap some women seemed to bait so easily. His initial reaction to her--that terrible need to be the one to change that look in her eyes, to be the man she relied on--made no sense. He was a cynical man. He'd seen it all. He didn't believe in love and he sure didn't believe he would be pulled into a trap by a woman. He'd thought himself immune, but he recognized danger when he saw it.
"The gallery was closed for a time and lost a bit of ground, but since reopening, it's recovering nicely, at a very steady rate." She flipped on the lights in the office.
The room was spacious, but private, with a door leading to a bathroom and another that led outside. The entire front of the gallery was tinted glass to protect paintings from the sun while allowing a sweeping view of the ocean across the street.
"Frank actually owns this building outright. The price includes the building and surrounding lot as well as the gallery name and inventory. If you're really interested, he owns the block beside the building as well and I believe he'd consider selling that also."
For the first time, he actually wished he was an American businessman and could settle there in the little village by the sea, this woman at his side. He wouldn't mind owning his own art gallery. He frowned and pressed his fingers to his temple, the beginnings of a headache slipping up on him unnoticed. What was he thinking? Men like him didn't settle down. They hunted, and then they were hunted.
"Are you all right?"
His gaze found and captured hers. He gave her another lopsided smile. Charming her. He caught the rise and fall of her breasts beneath that slim jacket at her sudden intake of breath. "Long flight and then a good four-hour drive. The scenery was beautiful though."
"Did you fly into San Francisco, or Oakland?"
The question should have been conversational, but there was something in the way her eyes tried to move from his but couldn't. His heart accelerated. As a game of chess, he wasn't certain who actually was ahead in moves. She didn't seem to have to do much of anything--that sensual caress in her voice endangered his sanity as nothing else could. She had to be innocent, no one could be that good. He'd come across some of the best agents in the business and none had ever waged such a brutal, vicious attack on his body and his self-control.
"San Francisco." Deliberately he glanced away from her, a shy businessman a little outclassed by a beautiful woman. "I was looking at a gallery there as well, but I could tell I would be trading one big city for another. A different way of life, perhaps, but still not what I'm looking for. Sea Haven appeals to me."
He stepped close to her, crowding her a little on the pretense of looking into the safe she had crouched down to open. The thought of her head level with his aching groin made his cock jerk and thicken that much more. He took a breath to get his body back under control, reminding himself that wayward part of him belonged to him, not her. He took care not to accidentally brush up against her. He had to be that sharp businessman, a little shy with women, charming, but not pushy.
Judith was attracted to him and that made her wary. The fact that she physically responded to a stranger obviously bothered her on the same elemental level it bothered him. She removed several books with unsteady hands, but she hid it well. He filed that away, more pleased than he should have been at the evidence that she was having as much trouble as he was. He had no business thinking of her as anything but a mark.
His job was to find the best way to seduce her into trusting him. For the first time that he could ever remember, he didn't much like his assignment and hadn't from the beginning. He'd convinced himself it was because he sensed a trap for his brother--that he was being used to bring Lev out into the open so he could be terminated. Now, he knew his reticence was more than that--it was also about this particular woman.
"I love living here," Judith admitted, as she slowly straightened, the books in her hands.
Stefan knew he was giving her the idea that something tragic and personal had happened to him to make him want peace--to make him decide to turn his back on city life. She was looking at him with just a little bit of compassion. She didn't want to be interested, but she couldn't quite help herself. He made the observation with intense satisfaction. Thomas Vincent had to make his pursuit of Judith low-key or she would run.
"I think I would as well." He was a little shocked to realize he spoke the truth. Settling down had never been something he considered, or even imagined, yet the conviction in his voice was real. "Do you get many strangers in town?"
"The locals all know one another. We're a fairly close bunch--our livelihood depends on one another. But this is a tourist town. Many people vacation here. It's beautiful and all the artists settling here have attracted visitors as well."
That wasn't necessarily a good thing. Petr Ivanov could very well blend in to the many vacationers and tourists, making it more difficult for Stefan to ferret him out. Ivanov was good at blending and even better at disguises.
Stefan let his gaze slide away from Judith's again. He drew his finger around his collar as if it had become just a little too tight. "I have a confession to make." He hesitated just a moment and then sent her a quick, apologetic grin--a wolf in sheep's clothing. "I saw one of your early paintings at a friend's house. He's a collector out of New York. It was titled Moon Rising, and I was awed when I saw it. I tried to buy it from him but he wouldn't budge. I offered a quarter of a million dollars, and he still wouldn't sell."
It was easy enough to sound honest, because he
was telling the absolute truth. As part of his cover as an American, over the years, he had cultivated high-profile friends. Steven Cabot was the owner of a prestigious international law firm. He also was a collector of art--both paintings and sculptures. It was pure coincidence that when Thomas Vincent had mentioned he was interested in artist Judith Henderson, Cabot had become extremely excited. He raved over a painting he'd acquired some years earlier and took Thomas in to see it.
Stefan's reaction had been that same physical one he'd had the first time he'd viewed her paintings in her file. Gut-wrenching and totally ensnared. He saw far more than the moonlit sky spilling down on a field of white flowers. The piece was breathtaking. Marvelous. Ingenious. The painting was filled with passion, sensual and innocent--just like the woman standing before him. It wouldn't have mattered so much if Steve hadn't stood staring entranced up at it.
For the first time in his life, Stefan Prakenskii experienced black jealousy. The emotion shook him, descending like a dark cloud when he was someone who refused to acknowledge feelings. For one terrible moment, Steve Cabot's life had hung in the balance. Judith's painting was all about life and living, not about death, and he respected that, forcing himself to turn on his heel and walk away from dark temptation. He had known then he needed to retire, to disappear, before he no longer knew the difference between right and wrong.
Contrary to the beliefs of his superiors, he had a code he lived by and he was too close to crossing that thin, blurring line. For good or bad, this was his last mission and he'd taken it for two reasons. He was going to know once and for all if his brother was alive--and he meant to keep him that way. And he'd wanted to meet her--Judith--in person.
"That's insane. He didn't pay anything near that for it."
She looked both pleased and a little horrified. He liked her all the more for her reaction.
"He obviously loves it as much as I do," Stefan said. "In any case, knowing that your work is sold through this gallery was a major part of my decision to consider buying. I felt it was important to disclose that." He ducked his head a little, but refused to look away.
Her gaze moved over his face, dwelled for a moment on his mouth and then jumped back up to his eyes. A slow smile tugged at her lips. Her mouth truly fascinated him, giving him enough fantasies to last forever. She had beautiful teeth, small and delicate to go with her exotic features. Her eyelashes were long and sweeping, two thick crescents that drew attention to her large dark eyes. He made a conscious decision not to just drown there, and pulled back from the edge of disaster. He couldn't fall out of character for a pair of enormous bedroom eyes.
"I'm very flattered, Mr. Vincent."
"Call me Tom. All my friends do."
"And I'm Judith." She placed the books on the desk and indicated the chair. "Why don't you take a look at these while I do a few things out on the floor? Of course you'll want your bookkeeper and lawyer to go through them, but it's my opinion that the gallery is a sound investment. If I had the money, I would have tried to buy it."
He frowned at her. She sold her kaleidoscopes all over the world as well as her paintings. She had her own shop and worked as a manager of the gallery.
She laughed softly. "I own a farm with my sisters. We pour most of our money into that venture. It's beginning to pay off, but the first few years were tough."
"Really?" Interest crept into his voice. "A working farm?"
Judith laughed again. "Is it so farfetched?"
"Your sisters?" He knew damn well she didn't have any sisters--any family at all. "All women running a working farm?"
"Don't sound so skeptical. We're actually turning a profit."
He leaned one hip against the desk and, while amusement gleamed in his eyes, his expression turned almost eager. "You actually drive a tractor? You know how?"
"All of us do." She flashed her dark eyes at him and for the first time, he thought her smile and accompanying laughter was truly genuine. "I don't, however, wear a business suit while running heavy equipment."
"I've always wanted to drive a tractor," he confided with a boyish grin. "I never had the opportunity." He shook his head and shoved his hand through his hair, carefully messing it up so that he looked a little less sleek and a little more charming.
"While you're here, I'll have to take you out to the farm so you can have your chance," Judith said, and then looked a little shocked at her invitation.
He knew she regretted the impulsive offer as soon as it left her mouth. He waited a heartbeat. Two. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot, Judith," he said gently. "You don't even know me. As gracious as the offer is, and I really do appreciate it, I wouldn't expect you to take me to your farm." He gave her his best, open smile and looked as innocent as a caged wolf could manage when it wanted its way.
She fell into his trap quite neatly. "You're not putting me on the spot at all. I think it would be fun, as long as you don't go wild and wreck the corn beds."
"I'm in then." Surprisingly, the idea did sound kind of fun. Spending time with Judith was clearly dangerous, but suddenly the idea of riding on a tractor was actually appealing to him. He'd never thought about having the experience of it, but if he was going to disappear, maybe farming would interest him. If not, he'd still sit next to Judith on a tractor and enjoy watching her face as she tried to teach him to drive the thing.
"I'll be here for a couple of weeks. I thought it was important to spend time here and really get a feel for the place."
"I'm not working at the shop tomorrow and the weather should be nice." Her chin was up, her spine straight.
She was determined to see it through and as quickly as possible before she changed her mind. He kept his smile to himself and sank down into the chair at the desk in front of the open books. It was time to get to "work" and allow her off the hook before she became too wary. She was already on the verge of flight.
"What time? Sounds fun." He didn't actually know what fun was, but spending time in her company and sparring with her was definitely intriguing. He had time to establish his presence in Sea Haven before Jean-Claude was broken out of prison and picked up. Hopefully, there would be nothing to do but to leave. In the meantime, he would study the people and get a feel for the town. He would look for Petr Ivanov as well, and if he found him, Ivanov would have to disappear. Stefan couldn't leave him behind to find Lev, if his brother was still alive.
"Let's do eleven or twelve. That will give me time to get some work in at home."
He made certain not give into the temptation to look up, studiously studying the book. "Sounds good to me. If you write down the address, I can find it. I'll bring lunch, otherwise, you'll think you have to provide one for me."
"Why would you think that?"
He did allow his gaze to jump to hers, amusement showing through. "You're that kind of a woman."
Her eyebrow went up. "What kind of a woman would that be?"
"The hospitable kind, of course. And I'm not going to take any more advantage of your kindness than I already am just by agreeing to the tractor ride."
"Oh, no you don't. Thomas, you're not just getting a ride, you're going to drive it."
The teasing note in her voice disarmed him. He'd never really engaged in teasing with a woman and he pushed down the warmth spreading through his body. He had to remind himself he wasn't Thomas Vincent, that he was seriously playing this woman. None of it was real, no matter how real it felt to him. He sat up straighter. Or how real he wanted it to be.
Cursing under his breath, he forced himself to keep from looking at her again. He had more discipline than this. How in the world could he allow a woman to rock his world? She was just like everyone else in his world: a target. Disposable, a tool to be used and thrown away. He had no other way of life and he didn't know how to change or even if it was possible.
"Are you thinking of chickening out?"
He closed his eyes briefly. Her voice, velvet soft, bedroom husky, slipped under his skin and found its way
inside of him, no matter how much he tried to punch up his armor. He couldn't stop the stealing glance. She was sitting on the edge of a counter, her long, slender legs crossed, that modest skirt suddenly not quite as modest. Again, he had the feeling she had no idea how sexy she looked sitting there, or the fantasies she might put in a man's head.
Her hair fell like a silky waterfall, cascading over one shoulder, covering one breast, a rain of blue-black, straight and shiny. He had the sudden urge to bunch it into one fist and jerk her to him, his mouth taking hers, over and over, long kisses until she was so drugged on him, that she begged him to strip off her clothes and take her right there on the counter.
Judith sucked in her breath sharply and pressed a hand to her heart. Her gaze met his. Immediately that one-two punch to his gut came. She slid off the counter and pulled the edges of her jacket together protectively. "Who are you?" she whispered. "What are you? Because you're no ordinary businessman from New York."
Her hand crept toward the phone. She actually took a step back, and then, as he stood, suddenly bolted around the counter. Her hand swept up the receiver. He was there at the same time, cursing his wayward mind, astonished that she was so psychically gifted that she either read his thoughts or felt them and knew she was in trouble. His hand closed over hers very gently, but his strength easily prevented her from picking up the phone.
The moment his skin touched hers, electricity arced and snapped over him. He felt the impact through his body, a sheer physical reaction, blood rushing hot, spreading like a wildfire out of control. She was far more dangerous to him than he'd ever realized. His entire being focused on her, shaking the very foundation of what he believed about himself. He took a breath and kept to Thomas Vincent's reaction, pushing down the lethal reaction a man like Stefan Prakenskii had when he felt threat on the most elemental level.
"Just hear me out. If you still want to call the police or have me leave, I'll go," he said, keeping his voice pitched low, velvet soft.
Stefan knew Judith didn't really have much choice in the matter. He had her hand pinned, but she wasn't thinking about that. He could tell. He didn't make the mistake of smiling. He didn't feel much like smiling and doubted if bashful American businessman Thomas Vincent would either. He'd just been caught with his pants down by a beautiful woman.