Page 109 of Disarming Caine

“Sì, this is an odd coincidence. We were negotiating conservation and authentication work for some purchases they were making.” I dropped the photo and resumed my place behind Samantha, pressing into her shoulders again. “What happened?”

“September 2013. He was living alone—divorced and the kids were with his ex-wife—but he was out of town at the time. Guess where he was?”

“Don’t say New York.”

“Exactly.” She shuffled through the papers to show me a series of photos as she explained. “They came in through the front door, disabled the alarm, and grabbed three paintings from the study. The Constable we found at the house, a Delaroche, and a Gainsborough. Insured for almost two million, all told. The Constable was the most expensive and had a separate alarm triggered when they pulled it down. Police were there in seven minutes, but no leads off the bat. Clean crime scene. The door wasn’t forced, and the house’s security system wasn’t tampered with, so they suspected the owner or the staff who had access.”

“Suspected, but not charged?”

“Right.” Her voice slowed and she groaned as I dug harder into the knots. “They all had air-tight alibis and no trace of the paintings.”

When her head lolled to the side, exposing her neck for me, I closed in, brushing the soft skin with my lips. “I thought you wanted to put in more than two paltry hours of work tonight?”

“I did.” She sighed and straightened. “But I’m gradually changing my mind. One more quick search and I’ll call it a night.”

“So long as it’s quick.” I stepped closer, blowing lightly across her ear. “Because I can’t bear to watch you in those shorts anymore.”

She reached one hand back to grip the nape of my neck. “You like them?”

“Very much.” I pressed my hardening cock against her, gave her a kiss on the cheek and separated from her, hopefully leaving her wanting more. “And I have plans for you.”

“Plans?”

“Sì, important ones. We’ve not yet made love in the third bedroom. There are only so many days left and several rooms to go.”

Her lips tightened, as they so often did when she was battling a smile.Never let Ferraro know how much you like him, she must have been saying to herself.Keep your walls high and strong. Don’t risk falling in love with this remarkable man.Sì, that was it. Those were the words in her head.

“So anyway…” She riffled through sheets of paper and handed one to me. A real estate listing of Felicia’s house, with a photo of the living room. One of the hidden photos Lucy found. “Along the right edge, you see that strip from a painting’s frame?”

I nodded.

“That’s the frame I mentioned. The one that we can’t find a photo of the actual painting. But check this.” She pointed to a photo of the stolen Gainsborough in a newspaper article. “Frame look familiar?”

They were a match. “Still a coincidence, though?”

“It is, but…” She took the sheet back, plans and schemes sparkling in her eyes. “Elliot told me—and this is definitely confidential—that the stolen painting at the auction also came from a pawnshop in Detroit. They have to be linked and if Parker had both the Constable and the Gainsborough, I guarantee—”

“The Delaroche is there, as well?” These were the moments I was proudest of being with her. No matter how reckless and stubborn she was, she was truly brilliant.

“Can you call Irene and see if you can get the floor plan early? The dormer you pointed out is my top candidate for a hiding spot, but I’d like to get your thoughts on the rest of the layout.”

“Since I won’t be here to help?”

She shriveled her nose and nodded. I was leaving the day before the showing.

I pulled out my phone and before I had to face the uncomfortable moment of Samantha realizing I still had Irene’s number from when we’d gone on a date, my phone rang.

“Speaking of coincidences…” I held it up for Samantha to see. “It’s Irene.”

Chapter 38

Samantha

Thenextmorning,westepped into the small entryway of the Constable house, with its gleaming birch hardwood. The scent of chocolate chip cookies hit me before the multiple voices and footsteps registered.

Irene had called to let us know the invitation-only showing was being moved up to Wednesday, without providing a reason. The best guess? Felicia was hurrying the process because of Parker’s arrest.

While Irene hadn’t been able to send us the floor plan last night, at least Antonio was with me, which gave us two sets of eyes. And from the way she looked him up and down when we stepped in, it was clear he’d be just as successful a distraction as last time, in case the real estate agent got suspicious.