“THE PLAZA? That’s not quite some obscure Village place where we can hide from your duenna.” Amanda imagined Marc’s smile at the other end of the phone line reflecting her own. She liked the idea of their being alone where big brother couldn’t find them.
Not exactly playing it cool, Ace. Oh, hush…
“I’m uptown, you’re half-way uptown, the days are getting longer, we can sit around the fountain and watch pigeons shiver before we go and knock elbows with celebs around 57th Street at some over-priced, theme bistro. I’ve got news to relate, my lovely.” His Humphrey Bogart growl was beginning to send suggestive shivers down her spine.
“Yeah, well, so have I, big boy.” Amanda’s attempt at a tough-gal moll came out before she had a chance to check herself. This maddening man had the most amazing ability to edge her into attempting things she had never before attempted. Dangerous. Exciting.
“Yeah? You do? What have you learned?”
“Nothing that can’t wait. Get your act together, Mr. Hot-shot P.I… I’ve been doing some heavy thinking and I want some heavy answers. I’ll meet you at the Oak Bar.”
“Wha…?”
With a smirk of satisfaction she hung up. He could use a bit of shaking up himself. She was used to making decisions on her own, evaluating events, deciding what course of action to take. He wanted her help. Fine. On her own terms.
The Oak Bar does allow women, doesn’t it?
MARC STARED at the receiver, a sly smile on his face. What kind of monster had he created? Give the girl a little room and she was ready to take over the investigation. But he could sure as hell use another cool head. David was almost no help in making clear-headed, objective evaluations. He had been fine sitting around giving opinions while they were planning the operation.
But now with this Met thing on his back, David’s mind was even less focused. As far as he was concerned, everyone in Amanda’s “group” was capable of the forgeries. Marc had been hoping for a more astute appraisal of their abilities and reactions to his poses as Antonio.
And besides, David wasn’t nearly as much fun to be around as Ace.
Yeah, I could spend a lot of time with that smart-assed broad…um…young woman. Okay, smart-ass, sexy broad.
He was being pulled under. Like in the over-life-sized Burne-Jones pre-Raphaelite painting at a Met exhibit where the enticing mermaid was dragging a naked sailor into the briny depths. And the snoozing guy didn’t look all that unhappy.
Marc’s thoughts were interrupted when the director of Cambiare International came back into the sleek rosewood and chrome office.
“Is there any other way we might be of assistance, Mr. Parkerson? I’m sorry the insurance representative wasn’t able to make the meeting. His flight was delayed, I understand. He’ll be pleased to know your investigation is proceeding well. Shall I set up a meeting when he arrives or shall I have him personally get in touch with you?”
“Have him give me a call.” Marc shook the elegant man’s hand and moved to the doorway. “So nothing new has shown up on the market since the last drawing surfaced?”
“No, and our buyers have definitely concluded the provenance was falsified. We’re certainly not professionals, but it does appear the last several came through the Village gallery and can be traced to your brother’s class.” He escorted Marc into the elegant, simply-appointed, outer reception area. “I’m rather looking forward to discovering the artist,” he continued. “A formidable talent. What a shame for it to be employed so deviously.”
Marc nodded in agreement. “Yes. Unfortunately, it’s not only the talent involved but the vanity. Money might certainly be a factor, but usually much less so than the self-inflating knowledge they can pull off such a stunt.”
The director grimaced. “Indeed. The Queen is most displeased. She was so looking forward to enhancing her collection.”
Marc laughed. “I thought she owned everything the old guy had ever produced anyway.” He pushed open the heavy glass doors leading onto upper Madison Avenue.
The director smiled. “The ‘old guy’ was very prolific. Thank you again.”
Marc headed south toward his lady-love.
THE AIR around the circular Pulitzer Fountain still filled with evergreens from the winter season held more than a promise of springtime. The pigeons were busier, more aggressive, out to fleece every early out-of-town visitor they could entice with their fluttering wings and swooping forays.
Amanda remembered Trafalgar Square in London as a child. Never been back. Daddy couldn’t bear the idea. Or at least Amanda thought she remembered it. There were vague memories of hazy 8mm movies that her brothers had surreptitiously projected when Daddy wasn’t around. She wished she had known the attractive young woman shepherding the tiny child through the swarms of swirling birds. Amanda shook off the memory.
“The boat sank- get over it.” She smiled ruefully and pulled her tailored topcoat tighter against the crisp air. A friend had given her a T-shirt emblazoned with the pleading exhortation to counter Amanda’s ravings about what a wonderful love story the movie Titanic was.
The T-shirt’s reproof had served her well on more than one occasion.He’s a fake nude model-get over it. This time, though, the practical admonition wasn’t working.
Behind the line of hansom cabs lined up across the street, the haze of new green over Central Park forecast more than a promise of a lush burgeoning. It had been a mild winter with tons of rain. The buds were busting to burst forth.
Amanda felt the same way. She turned to start toward the imposing hotel and the bar at the renowned Oak Room.
He came loping across Fifth Avenue, face ablaze with delight at seeing her before he had expected. Her heart leapt into her throat and she felt a shiver of excitement. He still wore his Clark Kent horn rims. Her Superman.
Foolish, foolish, ridiculous girl. There’s no way. Are you listening to me? No.
“Hi.” He grabbed her and held her close.
Her heart pounded and her temples throbbed. She was limp in his enfolding arms; held securely by his powerful grasp. Her breasts pressed against the solid, sculpted, muscular frame, evident even through his suit and light overcoat. His hips snugged easily against hers. Only a few hours ago he had held her tight and then eased her away.
Now it felt as if he would never let her go.
She rested her arms tentatively on the wide shoulders sloping to envelop her. The strong musculature flexed as his possessive hands gently explored her back. Her breasts felt the expansion of his lungs as his body inhaled the scent of her hair where he had buried his face.
He pulled back and looked happily into her eyes. “I missed you.”
She had not missed him. She had a business to run. An investigation to inquire into. And besides, she knew she would see him again… always.
You utter schoolgirl!
“D’ja find out anything?” He held her hand, proprietarily, as they strolled around the magnificent Beaux Arts marble fountain.
“Both Mr. Wilde and Nathan have the ability to have picked the locks of the office.”
“Wilde, again? And Nathan? Well you never know who’s adept at what, do you? Except we do know the guy didn’t take the time to pick the lock at your place. He was intent on getting in, even if someone were inside. Obviously a very urgent need to know something.”
Adrenaline surged through Amanda. “You don’t think he’ll come back?”
“Might.” Marc’s look was cautious. “But I doubt it. He seems to have done a pretty good search before we got there. And you two are bolted in safely now. Mr. Raymondo was very thorough.” He grinned.
She wanted to touch the crinkled eyes.
I give up on you! Completely. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
“Somebody could have picked the lock on the front door. To let somebody else in. Cissy might not have let him in at all.” Marc’s mind raced as fresh ideas clicked into place in his analytical brain. “Let’s go down by the lake. It’s hard to think with all the traffic up here.”
They quickly crossed the street and descended a granite stairway. A wide walk skirted the nearby body of water inside the park. Many other strollers were enjoying the early evening. Marc pulled Amanda to an empty bench.
“I had been thinking this Wilde thing is too pat. Too coincidental. But, maybe we should pay more attention. You say the man doesn’t need money. Then that would play into the ego thing. Most forgers have their own private agenda. He’s a big man. Physically. Michelangelo was a big man. Is he gay?”
“Michelangelo? Michelangelo forgeries? From our class?” She sat back against the chilly wood, letting the cold shock her out of her instant reaction of overwhelming excitement that someone she knew was even capable of such a thing. Who could it be? Her mind skipped eagerly about.
“Gay? Wilde? I have no earthly idea. Why? Was Michelangelo supposed to be gay, too? Is that part of the ego thing?”
“Who knows. I’m just casting about for anything else we might be able to add into the mix.” He tossed a stone into the water.
“Could I see one of the drawings?” Amanda asked. She could hardly contain her excitement. “Are they available?” Someone she knew. In her class. How amazing!
“You want to see one of the forgeries?” Marc studied her carefully. She knew the artists intimately. Knew their style. Their strong points. She could possibly bring an added insight that he or David might miss. He nodded, pleased. “I’ll see what I can do.” He glanced at his watch. “I think we’d better go get something to eat. I made reservations at the Palm Court. I told them we’d be in the Oak Room Bar. I don’t want to miss the reservation.”
“The Palm Court at the Plaza for dinner?”
“It seemed convenient,” Marc said lightly, pulling her after him.
This man drags me everywhere.“I… I can walk on my own, thank you.” But she didn’t let go of his hand.
He smiled mischievously. She adored his smile.
He could have warned her about the restaurant. Not that it was that big a deal.I mean, it’s not “21” or something.
“It’s not that big a deal.” He was amused at her disconcerted reaction as he shepherded her past the hansom cabs with their glossy-coated horses.
“I think they must have carved the restaurant out of what was once a grand reception area in the old days. No matter. It’s nice.” Mark said.
The uniformed doorman ushered them through the revolving doors. The restaurant was right in front of them, a great drift of potted palms outlining the dining area. The lights were low, candles gleamed. Music came from somewhere. The table was tiny. The waiter wonderfully attentive. The food, ambrosial.
“You really go for this stuff,” Marc observed at the end of the meal, peering over a cup of delicious coffee as the waiter placed a gorgeous chocolate mousse between them and presented two forks.
“It’s very romantic.” Amanda could understand why debutantes from all over the country vied to have their cotillion lunches here with their beaus. She knew she was light-headed. The white wine hadn’t been completely assimilated even with the wonderful filet of sole. “I suppose a lot has to do with the history of the place, the fact that it’s been around so long. It’s survived with such elegance. Like the Waldorf. It’s still here. You can only hope that you’ll be as lucky and survive as well. In your own way, of course.”
Her eyes drifted up to his. She was definitely in love.
Oh God, what are you thinking? Pull yourself together. LOVE? Amanda! Amanda!The luscious chocolate melted over her tongue in a sensual flow. Go home. Crawl under your rock, she silently admonished her warring inner voice.When I make love to him, when he makes love to me, when we make love to each other… You… we are going to be so blown away.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
“Not even if you max out your Amex card.”
“You wanna spend the night?” His eyes were anxious. Going for it. He was forking in the mousse as urgently as she.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Another flood of luscious chocolate burst over her taste buds. “I can’t imagine The Plaza allowing us to check in without luggage.”
“There’s a luggage shop down the corridor.”
Suddenly she became aware of what he was saying. Her inner voice was smirkingly silent.
“You shouldn’t tease.” She wasn’t sure if he were and if so, about what.
“We never get to be alone.” He forked in another bite of the mousse. He was not being gentlemanly about sharing. She stabbed her fork to protect her portion. “You’ve got a roommate; David never goes out. There are always people around.” He looked around the elegant space forlornly. A waiter instantly appeared.
“Uh, perhaps more coffee.” Amanda said. She smiled and snagged the last bite of mousse.
“You need to get to know me better,” he continued, “without a lot of distractions. There’s a lot more to me than just a great-looking bod and a needle-sharp mind.”
She laughed. His glasses were off. His eyes were like liquid skies. A view of the park from a Plaza bedroom window must be a beautiful sight. And a great-looking bod lying on a beautifully linened bed waiting for her…
“A buck for your thoughts?”
“Marc… I…”
“Yes?”
Be straight with the guy. This is getting serious.“You’re a very attractive man. I’m… this situation is… makes me a little vulnerable right now. I would like to think that our friendship can grow if given time and under the right circumstances.”
He nodded sagely. “Still need ‘space,’ huh?”
Oh, God, how she longed to see a view of the park through a Plaza window.
“I’m not sure I can handle that,” he said seriously.
“What?”
“That space stuff. I want very badly to be very near you.”
“And I want very badly to be near you,” she admitted. “When you held me outside…”
His look was soft and gentle and understanding and manly. He would honor her request.
Damn.
They finished the second cup of coffee in silence. He seemed content, drawn inward. Amanda was a mess. Why did she have to put her feelings on the line? Because it was important that she not be misunderstood this time. The guy in Pittsburgh she had almost married had pushed. It was important that Marc know how much she cared, but that she didn’t like being forced.
Yeah, right.
“IT’S RAINING!” The doorman spread his hands in resignation. “I’m sorry, sir, the taxis have all been engaged.”
Marc peered into the rain. “It doesn’t look too bad. Probably be over in a little while. You wanna go back in for a…” Suddenly his face lit up. “Pick one.” He gestured toward the line of hansom cabs. “We’ll take a ride around the park in the rain ‘til it stops. Romantic, huh? I’ll tell you the story of my life without any distractions. Not much space, though.”
She grimaced. “Marc’s that awfully expensive for…”
He swept his arm toward the carriages again. “Clip, clop. Drip, drop. Just like Fred and Ginger.”
The doorman smiled. “I’ll go get one for you, if you like.”
She couldn’t disappoint Marc’s eager look. “The white carriage.”
The handsome dark horse, its brushed coat steaming in the cool rain, pulled the white two-wheeled hansom cab up to the steps. The doorman stepped out to help Amanda and Marc in. The young man driving looked pleased that he had a fare and not at all concerned that rain was running off his rather battered high silk hat and incongruous down jacket.
Marc and Amanda snuggled under the blanket inside as the cab clip-clopped its way across the street and into the park.
Marc was as excited as she. “Neat, huh?” He slid an arm around her and held her close, his eyes shining as he glanced around at the retreating lights of the city.
Mercurial. One moment a sophisticated man of the world, the next an excited young adventurer. How secure he acted as the model, how efficient in routing the intruder at her apartment, how professional with the gun, how understanding of Cissy, how concerned about Amanda’s anxiety toward her friends.
She snuggled closer to the warm, powerful presence beside her, listening to the spring rain pattering on the carriage roof. The park was magical with the shimmering glow of street lamps glittering through the curtain of rain drops with the city veiled in the distance.
She looked up into the face of pure adoration. His square jaw descended, his moist lips parted and pressed against hers gently, tenderly and then more firmly, with greater urgency. Her mouth melted against the capturing pressure. Her body curled into the powerful coil of his embrace.
Amanda’s heart thrummed in her chest responding to Marc’s escalating pulse. Her whole body became electric.
A warm, muscular probe delicately thrust through her lips and touched her own in the blended caves of their mouths. Then as she welcomed him with responding strokes, he began to aggressively explore. His strength surged through her, firing her senses.
He pressed her body closer under the sheltering blanket, his movement more fevered. Through their clothing, the thud of his heart pounded against the fluttering of Amanda’s. Their bodies seemed to blend. Amanda flowed into his embrace, allowing herself to be taken. She held him tight, taking him.
His hands touched her face. He framed her flushed cheeks with his strong palms and held her firmly to his mouth, drinking her in. Inhaling her.
A flash of lightning strobed the sky, shocking Amanda’s eyes open. The streaking raindrops froze, the glittering trees showering them from their overburdened leaves were outlined with slashes of white. She waited for the crash of thunder, her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling the neatly combed hair. The distant rumble rolled nearer and nearer, more ominous, then faded.
She felt his assertive hands slide to her back, holding her close, gliding quickly from one position to another, impressing the shape of her body into his palms and arms. They moved around to her breasts, circling tentatively, stroking gently over the soft mounds, his fingers exploring the soft flesh.
His heart was pounding, his breath coming in raspy gasps.
Amanda forced herself to pull away from Marc’s encompassing lips. She inhaled cold, fresh oxygen hoping to bank the fires raging through her body. His scent almost shattered her resolve. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, brushing her hair aside with his fevered cheek, stroking the moist skin with his tongue. Sparks raced around her scalp setting off an explosion of nerve endings that ignited throughout her body.
She must give him some indication that this could not go on…
Thank God his exploring hands had stopped setting fire to her. His breath came in short gasps against her cheek. His body trembled with the force of his self-control. Reluctantly, he forced himself away from her.
In the darkness, she could make out his questioning eyes, his face frozen in a hard, contemplative look. The heat in Amanda’s body chilled as the rain drummed on the protective carriage overhang and the distant thunder grumbled farther and farther away.
His look softened and turned inward, his chest rose and fell more evenly.
He looped his arm over her head and pulled her tight against him again, possessively territorial, tucking the blanket protectively around her. She leaned her moist brow against his hot cheek. He pulled a long, deep draft of air into his lungs.
“You smell like spring.”
The ache in Amanda’s heart was palpable. She felt empty. As though she had been presented with a precious jewel that had evaporated in her grasp.
“It’s that wet dog smell. Gets ‘em every time.”
“Got me.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
The ache began to ease. The outline of the jewel began to re-emerge, tentative, making an effort at reformulating itself. She curled her hand into his comfortable grasp as she fitted her body more firmly against his chest.
Her lips felt bereft.
She turned her face to his. His pupils were black and bottomless.
“You think we could do that first part again… now that we know where to stop?” In her head she had intended the quip to be joking, worldly, sophisticated. In the harsh reality of sound, fighting to be heard over the crunch of the wheels against the wet asphalt and spattering raindrops and the drown of distant city traffic, the words came out more plaintive than she had intended, more tremulous.
She frowned and turned her head away.
His breath was hot against the delicate skin behind her earlobe. His tongue traced the shell of her ear and then the line of her chin until it found her lips and once again they were passionately savoring each other.
The line had been drawn and he wasn’t stepping over it. Just as she had asked. The perfect gentleman. He, too, seemed to have realized…
His lips were like nectar, his embrace totally comforting. Just what she had decreed.
And her warring inner voices were total silent. Both satisfied.
Then why was she able to feel so wonderfully blissful and yet at the same time so terribly frightened she might have just made one of the biggest mistakes of her life?