Thunderbolt over Texas

She pushed her hair off her face and shot an uneasy glance at the connecting door as she flashed up the power. The front desk had given them adjoining rooms, but she hadn’t opened the door, and Cole hadn’t knocked.

Right now, all she wanted was to get Gwen’s e-mails downloaded. Neither Cole nor Gwen knew Grandma’s secret, and handing Gwen’s leads to Cole in careful sequence was the only way Sydney could get the job done.

They were here canvassing at antiques stores, just as she’d told him. But Oceanside was also the city where Harold’s illicit lover, Irene Cowan, had once lived.

As soon as Sydney ditched Cole, she was heading two blocks down to city hall to take a look at the historical property records. The new tax rolls were online, but Irene Cowan wasn’t a current property owner. So if a trail existed in property records, it was going to start on microfiche.

While the blue bar edged its way along the bottom of her computer screen, a knock sounded on the adjoining door. Sydney stood up, silently urging the e-mail download to hurry.

Cole knocked again.

The word “complete” came up, and Sydney snapped the lid on her laptop before crossing the room.

Cole stood in the doorway in a crisp, white shirt, a burgundy tie and a beautifully cut charcoal suit with polished, black shoes. He was freshly shaved and his hair was neatly combed. If the clerks in the antique stores were female, Sydney was pretty sure they had a shot at getting information from them.

“I thought we’d get more cooperation if we looked like big buyers,” he said.

Big buyers nothing, the staff would be too busy flirting with Cole to care whether or not they’d make a sale.

Sydney glanced down at her black jeans and the cropped, lacy top that was streaked with dust from her foray under the desk. She was definitely outclassed.

She opened the closet and took an ivory suit in one hand and a little black dress in the other. “Professional or flirtatious?” she asked.

His gaze moved back and forth. “What usually works best for you?”

“Professional,” she said. Then she paused. “No. I’m lying.” She hung the suit back up and closed the closet. “Flirtatious wins hands down.” She rounded the privacy wall to the powder room.

Cole laughed behind her. “I know it would work on me.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re easy.”

“So is most of the male population of this country.”

“There’s a list of antique stores on the desk,” she called, bailing on this conversation before it went bad.

She wiggled out of her jeans and peeled off her blouse, turfing the white bra that would show at her shoulders. “I thought we’d start on Zircon Drive,” she called.

“Does Gwen think one of these dealers has seen the Thunderbolt?” he asked in return.

“Nothing specific so far.” Sydney ran a brush through her hair and dug into her makeup bag.

“So, what exactly are we doing here?”

“We take the picture of the fake around to the employees and see if they recognize it.”

“And if they don’t?”

His voice was closer, and Sydney quickly glanced around for the dress. Not that she was afraid he’d come in. He was way too much of a gentleman for that. It was more that his voice and her naked body were a potent combination.

She slipped the dress over her head, the silky fabric teasing her breasts on the way down.

“Sydney?”

“Then we move on to the next store,” she said in a voice that was more than a little husky.

Cole was silent for a moment. “You really think this is going to work?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

“You almost ready?”

“Just putting on my shoes.” She brushed her hair one more time and popped a pair of diamond studs into her ears before heading out to meet him.

His gaze strayed up and down her clingy outfit. His expression gave away nothing, but her skin prickled as if he actually touched her.

“We should go,” she said, forcing her thoughts to the search instead of her hormones.

Cole stared at her a minute longer. Then he cleared his throat. “Right. Zircon Drive.” He abruptly turned and headed for the door.

“This is ridiculous,” said Cole as they exited from the fourth Oceanside antique store. Despite Sydney’s cleavage and Cole’s sexy baritone, none of the staff admitted having seen or heard of the Thunderbolt.

“We’ve barely started,” Sydney countered, knowing that no matter what they wore or what they promised, their odds of finding information were almost nil. She was feeling guiltier by the hour for keeping him in the dark about the real search.

“We could blow off a year like this,” he said.

“You and I are only one part of the investigation,” she argued. “Gwen is checking Europe, and Kyle is interviewing your neighbors.”

“While you and I are wasting time.”

Sydney skirted around a group of teenage boys who strutted three-wide on the sidewalk in the opposite direction. She hop-stepped in her high heels to catch up to Cole. “Give it a chance.”

“We need more manpower,” he said as the oncoming crowd parted around him. “I’m hiring a P.I. firm. Somebody national, with lots of investigators.”

She ducked in behind him, following in his wake as she fought a spurt of panic. A dozen private eyes? Sticking their noses into the investigation? They’d make it impossible to keep Grandma’s secret.

“Let’s wait and see instead,” she suggested.

“Wait and see what?”

The crowds thinned and she moved back to his side. “Wait and see what Gwen comes up with.”

He peered down his nose at her, obviously unconvinced.

“Before we do anything rash,” she elaborated. “Okay?”

“Hiring a P.I. firm is rash?”

“I think we need to focus our effort.”

He turned his palms up, fingers spread wide in a gesture of incredulity. His voice rose as they angled toward the curb. “There’s nothing to focus on.”

“You’re so impatient.”

Cole glared his frustration while he unlocked the passenger door. “Impatient? Excuse me, but the Thunderbolt is worth half a million dollars.”

Sydney folded herself into the passenger seat, adjusting her dress on the hot leather as Cole clicked the door shut.

She hadn’t quantified it from the money angle yet. But the real Thunderbolt represented one of the first documented uses of diamonds as ornamentation in Europe, and the jewels themselves were dozens of carats. It was impossible to put a price on that.

Cole dropped into the driver’s side and slammed the door. He cranked the engine and turned the air- conditioning up to full. “For half a million dollars, I think I can be forgiven for a little impatience.”

“Fine. You’re forgiven.”

“And we hire a firm.”

“No. Not now. Not yet.”

Sydney’s cell phone rang.

She could feel Cole working up a counter argument as she hunted through her purse. She hoped it was Gwen with something, anything. They needed a bogus lead or a false rumor to distract Cole.

She pushed the talk button. “Yes?”

“Well, well, well,” Bradley Slander drawled through the grainy speaker. “You’ve been holding out on me, babe.”

Sydney stilled, cursing under her breath, eliciting a look of surprise from Cole.