A Business Engagement. Merline Lovelace

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      “Gina may be flighty and a little careless at times, but she would never take anything that didn’t belong to her!”

      Not intentionally, that is. There was that nasty little Pomeranian she’d brought home when she was eight or nine. She’d found it leashed to a sign outside a restaurant in one-hundred-degree heat and “rescued” it. And it was true Gina and her teenaged friends used to borrow clothes from each other constantly, then could never remember what belonged to whom. And, yes, she’d been known to overdraw her checking account when she was strapped for cash, which happened a little too frequently for Sarah’s peace of mind.

      But she would never commit theft, as this...this boor was suggesting. Sarah was about to call security to have the man escorted from the building when he reached into his suit pocket and palmed an iPhone.

      “Maybe this clip from my home surveillance system will change your mind.”

      He tapped the screen, then angled it for Sarah to view. She saw a still image of what looked like a library or study, with the focus of the camera on an arrangement of glass shelves. The objects on the shelves were spaced and spotlighted for maximum dramatic effect. They appeared to be an eclectic mix. Sarah noted an African buffalo mask, a small cloisonné disk on a black lacquer stand and what looked like a statue of a pre-Columbian fertility goddess.

      Hunter tapped the screen again and the still segued into a video. While Sarah watched, a tumble of platinum-blond curls came into view. Her heart began to thump painfully even before the owner of those curls moved toward the shelving. It picked up more speed when the owner showed her profile. That was her sister. Sarah couldn’t even pretend to deny it.

      Gina glanced over her shoulder, all casual nonchalance, all smiling innocence. When she moved out of view again, the cloisonné medallion no longer sat on its stand. Hunter froze the frame again, and Sarah stared at the empty stand as though it was a bad dream.

      “It’s Byzantine,” he said drily. “Early twelfth century, in case you’re interested. One very similar to it sold recently at Sotheby’s in London for just over a hundred thousand.”

      She swallowed. Hard. “Dollars?”

      “Pounds.”

      “Oh, God.”

      She’d rescued Gina from more scrapes than she could count. But this... She almost yanked out one of the chairs and collapsed in a boneless heap. The iron will she’d inherited from Grandmama kept her spine straight and her chin up.

      “There’s obviously a logical explanation for this, Mr. Hunter.”

      “I very much hope so, Ms. St. Sebastian.”

      She wanted to smack him. Calm, refined, always polite Sarah had to curl her hands into fists to keep from slapping that sneer off his too-handsome face.

      He must have guessed her savagely suppressed urge. His jaw squared and his blue eyes took on a challenging glint, as if daring her to give it her best shot. When she didn’t, he picked up where they’d left off.

      “I’m very interested in hearing that explanation before I refer the matter to the police.”

      The police! Sarah felt a chill wash through her. Whatever predicament Gina had landed herself in suddenly assumed a very ominous tone. She struggled to keep the shock and worry out of her voice.

      “Let me get in touch with my sister, Mr. Hunter. It may...it may take a while. She’s not always prompt about returning calls or answering emails right away.”

      “Yeah, I found that out. I’ve been trying to reach her for several days.”

      He shot back a cuff and glanced at his watch.

      “I’ve got meetings scheduled that will keep me tied up for the rest of this afternoon and well into the night. I’ll make dinner reservations for tomorrow evening. Seven o’clock. Avery’s, Upper West Side.” He turned that hard blue gaze on her. “I assume you know the address. It’s only a few blocks from the Dakota.”

      Still stunned by what she’d seen in the surveillance clip, Sarah almost missed his last comment. When it penetrated, her eyes widened in shock. “You know where I live?”

      “Yes, Lady Sarah, I do.” He tipped two fingers to his brow in a mock salute and strode for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      * * *

      Lady Sarah.

      Coming on top of everything else, the use of her empty title shouldn’t have bothered her. Her boss trotted it out frequently at cocktail parties and business meetings. Sarah had stopped being embarrassed by Alexis’s shameless peddling of a royal title that had long since ceased to have any relevance.

      Unfortunately, Alexis wanted to do more than peddle the heritage associated with the St. Sebastian name. Sarah had threatened to quit—twice!—if her boss went ahead with the feature she wanted to on Beguile’s own Lady Sarah Elizabeth Marie-Adele St. Sebastian, granddaughter to Charlotte, the Destitute Duchess.

      God! Sarah shuddered every time she remembered the slant Alexis had wanted to give the story. That destitute tag, as accurate as it was, would have shattered Grandmama’s pride.

      Having her younger granddaughter arrested for grand larceny wouldn’t do a whole lot for it, either.

      Jolted back to the issue at hand, Sarah rushed out of the conference room. She had to get hold of Gina. Find out if she’d really lifted that medallion. She was making a dash for her workstation when she saw her boss striding toward her.

      “What’s this I just heard?”

      Alexis’s deep, guttural smoker’s rasp was always a shock to people meeting her for the first time. Beguile’s executive editor was paper-clip thin and always gorgeously dressed. But she would rather take her chances with cancer than quit smoking and risk ballooning up to a size four.

      “Is it true?” she growled. “Devon Hunter was here?”

      “Yes, he...”

      “Why didn’t you buzz me?”

      “I didn’t have time.”

      “What did he want? He’s not going to sue us, is he? Dammit, I told you to crop that locker-room shot above the waist.”

      “No, Alexis. You told me to make sure it showed his butt crack. And I told you I didn’t think we should pay some smarmy gym employee to sneak pictures of the man without his knowledge or consent.”

      The executive editor waved that minor difference of editorial opinion aside. “So what did he want?”

      “He’s, uh, a friend of Gina’s.”

      Or was, Sarah thought grimly, until the small matter of a twelfth-century medallion had come between them. She had to get to a phone. Had to call Gina.

      “Another one of your sister’s trophies?” Alexis asked sarcastically.

      “I didn’t have time to get all the details. Just that he’s in town for some business meetings СКАЧАТЬ