“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “I just needed to sleep. I needed you.”
Ian nodded. “Sometimes, I feel as if we’ve known each other for years. And then, I realize I don’t know anything about you, beyond the fact that we share this incredibly intimate relationship. I can possess your body in any way I choose and you wouldn’t refuse me, would you?”
She shook her head.
“But yet, I could ask you a simple question, and suddenly, a wall would spring up between us.”
“That would depend on the question,” she said. “Is there a question you’ve been wanting to ask me?”
“Yeah,” Ian said. “But I don’t know what use it would be asking since I don’t think you’re willing to answer.”
“Then don’t ask,” she said, her voice taking on an uneasy tone.
“I have to, Marisol. If I don’t, then I’m going against everything I am.”
She sat up in bed and pulled the covers around her breasts, her eyes wide and watching. Ian thought again about how best to handle her. He’d always been an honest man, yet suddenly, he’d begun living in this world of unspoken lies and half truths, content that if he didn’t acknowledge the problem then it didn’t exist.
“A few days ago, my brother Declan gave me some information…about you. And about David Barnett.”
She raked her hair out of her eyes, a frown wrinkling her brow. “I don’t-what kind of information?”
Ian sat back in the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. He couldn’t look at her. Her beauty just blinded him to reality. All he could do was listen to her voice and gauge her reactions that way. “He did a background check on you both.”
“Just like that? How did he know to-”
“I asked him to do it. The night after I met David Barnett.” So it was half a lie, but right now, Ian couldn’t feel guilty. She was hiding something from him-every instinct told him so. “I just got a vibe off of him that he might be trouble.” He looked at Marisol. “I’m a cop and I have been for a long time. I can’t ignore those hunches. It’s part of the job.”
“So why check up on me?”
“Even though we’d been…intimate, I didn’t know anything about you. Call it self-preservation.”
“And what did you learn?”
“You tell me,” he said, anger edging his voice.
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and stared at her hands, her fingers plucking at the sheet twisted around her legs. “I can’t,” she whispered.
“You can’t? Or you won’t?” He cursed softly. “Tell me you can’t because there was nothing in that file. Tell me all these doubts racing through my head don’t exist. Tell me I
Silence spun out around them and Ian expected any moment she’d crawl out of bed, grab her dress and leave. “Marisol, you know you can trust me,” he whispered.
“Can I? How do I know that? We met, what? Ten days ago? Just because a lot has happened in those ten days, doesn’t mean I can trust you. I thought I could trust David Barnett and I was wrong.”
“So you would rather I just let this go? Just walk away from you and all of this, from whatever is in that folder?”
Marisol nodded. “You can’t help me,” she murmured. “It would put everything you stand for at risk. You’re a police officer and you’re not allowed to bend the rules.” She paused. “Why don’t you just tell me what you know and I’ll tell you if it’s true?”
“I threw the file away,” Ian said. “I didn’t look inside. I don’t know what you’re hiding. That’s up to you to say. But if it’s something that will get you in trouble with the law, then you know what has to happen.”
“You have to stay away from me,” she said.
Ian cursed. They were caught in a trap, only one of them able to break free, but at the expense of the other. Deep down, he knew she was in trouble and she was probably mixed up in something illegal. But the moment he learned the facts, he’d be compelled to act in his capacity as an officer of the law. He also sensed that she needed his help, but she couldn’t ask for fear that she’d draw him into the mess.
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” she said, after a long silence. “You have to believe me. I’m just trying to protect someone I love.”
“Then you love him?”
“Of course I do,” she said.
Ian’s jaw grew tense and he bit back a curse. So that was how it was. She was still in love with David Barnett and probably sleeping with him now, too. It couldn’t be any clearer than that. “Maybe this is for the best,” he said. The words came out of his mouth, but Ian didn’t believe them for a second. “You take care of your business and I’ll handle mine and we’ll go on as if we never met.”
“But we did meet,” she said.
He nodded. “As long as you keep yourself out of trouble, I’ll leave you alone. If you cause any problems, Marisol, you’re not going to give me a choice.”
“I understand,” she said.
Ian levered to his feet then circled the bed and picked up her dress from the floor. He held it out to her. “You’d better get dressed. I’ll take you home.”
Marisol took the dress from him and slipped it over her head, then fumbled with the buttons. When she was finished, she crawled out of bed and searched the floor for her shoes. “I have my car. I’ll go.”
When she was ready, Marisol stood in front of him and touched his face with her hand. “I know what I’m doing,” she murmured. “You have to trust me on this.” She pushed up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I would never hurt you.”
With that, she turned and walked out. Ian stood alone, wondering at how the room had suddenly turned cold. He felt as if everything he’d ever wanted had been snatched from him and there was nothing he could do about it. Marisol wasn’t his, she never had been. He’d just been too caught up in the fantasy to realize that.
“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?”
Marisol sat on the edge of her worktable, her legs dangling. She had thought about that question since the moment she’d unwrapped the painting and realized what her father had done. And she would have come to a decision a lot sooner if Ian hadn’t been occupying her thoughts day and night.
It wasn’t any wonder she preferred to think about him. The sexy man who made her writhe with pleasure, or a potential problem that could get her thrown in jail? The choice wasn’t difficult. In truth, she’d been using Ian to distract herself from her problems, to avoid the inevitable choice that she’d have to make.
Marisol looked up at Sascha and forced a smile. Her friend had arrived early that morning. They’d spent most of the day going over the pieces Sascha wanted for her own gallery, and the work Marisol would show at her opening. They discussed the prices they’d attach to each painting and sculpture.
All day long, Marisol had waited for the right moment to broach the subject of her plan, praying that Sascha would agree to help her. The waning afternoon had finally pushed her into action, Marisol knowing that Sascha would have to leave soon in order to get back to the city before dark. “I came up with an idea. But I’m going to need your help.”
“My help?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to do anything illegal.”
Sascha shifted nervously. “I think helping you replace that painting would probably make me an accessory to some sort of crime. I adore accessories, but I don’t want to be one, darling.”
“We’re not going to get caught.” Though Marisol’s words sounded convincing, her confidence didn’t extend much further.
“All right, what’s the plan?”
She jumped off the table and took Sascha’s hand, dragging her to the far wall of the gallery. “See this,” she said, pointing to the painting she’d been working on all night. “This is a gift. I’m going to present it to the Templetons. It just happens to be exactly the same size as their Colter.”
Sascha peered at the painting, her smile slowly growing. “Oh, I saw this in a movie! The real painting is underneath and then you’ll spray it with-”
“No!” Marisol said. “Nothing that complicated. I’ll crate this with the Colter and get them both into the Templetons’ house. Then I’ll make a fuss about unveiling my gift in the library, where the Colter is hung. And then,
