Ian shook his head. “I’m not letting you out of my sight again until we’ve decided what to do with that damned painting.”
Marisol slid into the Mustang and Ian hurried around to the driver’s side. They followed Sascha down the driveway and once out of sight of the house, he glanced over at Marisol.
She sent him a weak smile. “Sorry?”
Ian laughed. “Sorry? Do you realize what would have happened had you actually made that switch? That was theft, Marisol. You could have ended up in prison for a very long time.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but Ian held up his hand. Right now, he wasn’t interested in explanations. This certainly wasn’t what he was taught at the police academy, nor had his ten years of job experience prepared him to dance along the edges of the law as he had tonight.
The only consolation was that, for the moment, Marisol was on the right side of the law-his side.
9
MARISOL STOOD BENEATH the shower in Ian’s bathroom, hot water pouring over her head, washing away the last of the tension that had plagued her for days.
After they’d left the Templetons’, they’d all met up at Ian’s house, returning the painting to the hiding place beneath his bed. She’d been shaken by how close she’d come to committing a real crime and furious at how she’d nearly been duped into giving David the real painting. But Ian had poured her a glass of wine, and for the next hour, they’d sat in his backyard and talked, the conversation slowly calming her.
Ian had made it clear what he thought needed to be done. The forgery ought to be destroyed and David Barnett hung out to dry. But Marisol insisted on keeping the painting, knowing that David would never let the matter rest until he had something to sell to his collector.
Marisol reached for the soap, then felt Ian’s hands on her waist. “What are you doing in here?” she asked, smiling back at him.
“I thought you might need some help,” he said. Ian reached up and gently massaged her shoulders.
She turned and faced him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’ve always liked you naked,” she teased, “but naked and wet is even nicer.”
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Marisol nodded. She hadn’t told Ian about her plans to give the painting to David. Technically, that action would probably put her on the wrong side of the law again, but she didn’t care. She was simply giving the painting back to the man who paid for it.
“I’m going to sleep so well tonight,” she said.
“You’ll need your rest,” Ian said. “You have a big day tomorrow.”
“We’re sleeping in tomorrow,” she said. “It’s Saturday.”
“We have business down at the station,” Ian said, running his fingers through her wet hair.
Marisol frowned. “What business?”
“With the FBI. I’m going to call them in to deal with David Barnett.”
Marisol gasped. “What? You can’t do that. I’m going to give him the painting and he’s going to leave me and my father alone.”
“David Barnett is a criminal,” Ian said. “I did a little checking and Barnett is under investigation. This isn’t the first piece of artwork he’s tried to pass off as an original. It’s time he was stopped and we have the opportunity to do that.”
Marisol shook her head, then stepped out of the shower. How dare he make a decision like this without consulting her? He had no right, even if he was the police chief of Bonnett Harbor. This was her father’s life they were talking about, not some faceless criminal who deserved jail time.
She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body, her hair dripping water on the floor. “No,” she said as he followed her out of the shower. “I’m not going to do it. When they find out my father made that forgery, they’ll arrest him again.”
Ian grabbed her arms and met her gaze. “If you help them, you can make a deal for your father,” he said. “As long as we stop Barnett from selling that painting, then what your father did was a copyright violation at best. He’ll get a slap on the wrist and nothing more. But if Barnett sells that painting, then your father is part of the conspiracy. Do you understand?”
Marisol looked into Ian’s eyes, searching for the truth in his words. She’d trusted him once and he’d helped her. She had to trust him again. “But how will we do this?” she said. “Don’t I have to tell them what he did?”
“No,” Ian said. “I have a plan.”
Marisol moaned, shaking her head. “Not another plan. I can’t do another plan. I like my plan. It’s so simple. Call David, give him the painting. One, two, it’s over.”
“It won’t be difficult,” he assured her. “I’ll be with you the whole way. It will be the right thing to do.”
“What is the FBI going to say when they find out the police chief of Bonnett Harbor has been sleeping with the daughter of an infamous art forger?”
“We’re not going to tell them that part,” Ian said.
“What are we going to tell them?”
He reached down and hooked her chin with his finger, then kissed her gently. “We’ll leave all that to later,” he murmured. “I have other things on my mind right now.”
“What?”
Ian traced a line along her shoulder, down her arm to her wrist. “I was thinking you might want to crawl into bed with me and see what happens?”
A tiny smile twitched at her lips. Things had changed between them. The trust between them had been tested and it had survived. And for the first time, she could see a future with Ian. She needed him, now more than ever. “I know what will happen,” Marisol said, taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom.
“You’re not going to let me sleep. You’re going to keep me awake all night long. And tomorrow, I’m going to be too tired to talk to the FBI.”
“Now there’s a plan,” she said.
“You don’t think I can control myself?” Ian said. “I can have you in my bed and do nothing but sleep.”
“Well, that would be a waste, wouldn’t it?” Marisol asked.
“All right, let’s see who has the most self-control.” Ian grabbed the towel she’d wrapped around her and tugged it off her body. “Come on,” he said as he dried himself with her towel. “Let’s just go to bed and see who falls asleep first.”
Marisol knew he was just teasing, but she decided to go along with the game. If he was determined to prove a point, then she’d do her best to disprove it. It wouldn’t take more that a simple caress to shake his resolve.
She snatched the towel from his hands and dried her wet hair, then crawled into his bed. He lay down beside her, tugging the sheet up around his waist.
“See, no problem.”
“You’re not asleep yet,” she said.
Marisol rolled over on her side and watched him, but Ian refused to look at her. “I see you’re very determined.” She held her hand over his chest, hovering just above his skin. “I won’t touch you then.” She ran her hand down, holding it over his crotch. Then, Marisol began to move her palm back and forth, as if she were stroking him.
It took no time at all for him to react, his growing erection pressing against the sheets. She smiled in satisfaction. “Oh, my. What could that be?”
With a low growl, Ian reached out and grabbed her, pulling her on top of him. “You are a bad, bad girl,” he said.
“Just remember, you touched me first,” she countered. “So I guess I win.”
“Can I give you your prize now?” Ian asked.
Marisol giggled. This was what she loved about Ian, these moments when she could be completely herself, when the world fell away and it was just them. She was falling in love with him, and every day, the feelings simply grew stronger and stronger.
