To Tempt a Thief 1 (The Billionaire and the Thief) Read online

  No.

  Ari broke their kiss. “Alas, the honeymoon is over.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.” He hooked his fingers in the sash of her dress and said plainly, “Come home with me tonight.”

  I would fucking love to.

  “Go home with a stranger?” she teased. “On a school night, besides? That’s rather naughty.”

  Never before had she felt such a palpable battle between the angel and the devil on her shoulders, each one making its own extremely compelling case.

  “I promise I’ll be a very, very good boy,” the man said, pressing his lips to her neck.

  “A good boy? That doesn’t sound like fun at all.”

  “I was being a gentleman.” He moved up to her ear, leaving a trail of kisses on her skin. “I don’t think you’re ready to see my bad side.”

  Fuck. Ari was so ready to see his bad side. To see any side.

  But she just couldn’t.

  “Enticing as your offer sounds,” she said, pulling away and putting a little distance between them, “I really can’t. I’m sorry.”

  And she was, too. More than he’d ever know.

  “In that case,” he said, “I do hope our paths cross again soon.”

  “Perhaps.” Then, flashing a final mischievous grin, she held out her hand. “I need my panties back, thief.”

  “Your panties? Ah, now that’s where you’re mistaken, love.” He tapped his breast pocket and gave her a wink. “These belong to me now.”

  “Fair enough.” She captured his earlobe between her teeth, whispering hotly against his flesh. “Since my pussy belongs to you now, too.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BY THE TIME Ari awoke in her late father’s Park Avenue penthouse the next morning, she had sixteen texts and four voicemails from Davidson, each one more frantic than the last. Psycho.

  She clicked the remote to open the blinds, welcoming the early morning sunshine into her master suite. Davidson’s messages had a way of sucking all the heat out of a room.

  I trust you didn’t run into any complications last night.

  Surprised not to see you after the event. My driver tells me you weren’t there.

  Hey. Call me. I just need to know you’re okay.

  He practically owned her, and they both knew it. The fact that he still tried to play the concerned friend card was a total mind-fuck.

  Just how he liked it, the bastard.

  No problems, she replied. Sorry to go off grid. I was exhausted last night. Crashed early.

  His response was instantaneous. Lunch at 1, usual place.

  It wasn’t a request. It never occurred to Davidson that she might have other plans. A doctor’s appointment. Errands. Or, God forbid, a lunch date with someone she actually liked.

  Looking forward to it! she replied. Despite her frustrations, it was better for everyone if she stayed in Davidson’s good graces—especially when she planned to deliver bad news.

  After tossing and turning all night, Ari still hadn’t found a way to soften the blow about last night’s failure. She’d been at the penthouse for hours, and all she had to show for her efforts were sinfully aching breasts and a missing pair of panties—definitely not the kind of information she’d be sharing with Davidson.

  God, last night…

  Harmless fun. That’s all it was supposed to be. Some dirty, seductive talk and a little rough sex to make her forget her problems—and to make her mystery man forget he’d seen her snooping in the study.

  She certainly wasn’t supposed to wake up thinking about him, replaying all the ways in which his incredible touch had made her come more intensely, more passionately than anyone in her life. And they hadn’t even gotten to the real good stuff.

  He’d bought her a hot dog, for God’s sake—with onions. The least sexy food on the planet. Yet here she was, getting hot and wet again at the memory of his voice. Her toes curled as she fantasized about his expert command, the confidence with which he’d taken her in the closet. Fierce, determined. A man who could make her laugh one minute, bring her to her knees the next. A man who knew how to handle her, how to give her exactly what she needed…

  Don’t go there, Arianne.

  She threw off her duvet, shaking off the lingering memories as she headed for the shower. Last night was over—it didn’t matter. That man, like so many good things in her life, was already the past, gone before she’d even had a chance to know what she’d be missing.

  Right now she had more pressing matters to deal with, like figuring out how to handle Davidson.

  Her search of the study last night may have been deliciously interrupted, but she’d seen enough to know that the family had nothing to hide—they were broke. Wouldn’t make a difference to Davidson, though. Every time Ari turned up empty-handed—something that was happening more and more lately—he accused her of holding out on the crew. Of dishonoring her father’s legacy. Of not having her head in the game.

  The thing was, nothing could be further from the truth. She was all about the game, just like her father had taught her.

  But ever since her father died carrying out the biggest heist the crew had ever planned—ever since Davidson had forbidden her from looking for the man who’d double-crossed them—maybe Ari just couldn’t play by the same rules anymore.

  “Someone had a good night.” Tasha Howard, Ari’s nineteen-year-old sister, breezed into the kitchen with a grin that lit up the room, her blond ponytail swishing across her shoulders. “And that someone needs to spill it.”

  Ari’s cheeks burned. “If you call schmoozing with a bunch of museum stiffs a good night, I feel sorry for your future boyfriends.”

  “Are your pants hot?” Tasha asked. “Like, on fire?”

  Ari nearly chocked on her coffee. “Excuse me?”

  “Because you’re such a liar!” Tasha poured herself a coffee, dumping in about half the sugar bowl and enough milk to turn it beige. In a singsong voice, she said, “I know your faces, Ari. And that is not the face of a woman who spent the night on the clock.”

  “You’re a regular private eye, aren’t you?”

  At the huge granite-topped breakfast bar, Tasha took the seat next to Ari, stirring her coffee with trademark Tasha exuberance, spoon clinking against the mug like a bell. “Was he cute, at least? What’d you guys do?” She took a sip of coffee, and fixed Ari with a penetrating glare. “I’m not leaving this room until I get the scoop. Starting with the dude’s name.”

  I need more coffee for this conversation…

  Unlike Ari, Tasha was an open book. She talked in her sleep, sang in the shower, thought and daydreamed out loud. She did everything out loud, full blast, no holding back. Ari admired that about her, but it also made her feel like a fraud. There was a lot of information Tasha didn’t know about Ari’s life, and as much as Ari loved her sister, she needed to keep it that way.

  The girls had different fathers, and since Ari’s mother split when she was young, she didn’t even know Tasha existed until their mother had tried to get some money out of Ari’s father.

  When he finally broke the news that Ari had a younger sister, she was unfazed. She was twelve years old, and her father and the crew were the only family she’d ever known—the only ones she needed. Besides, it’s not like her mother wanted anything to do with her. As far as Ari was concerned, her mother could take her new family and go straight to hell.

  But about a week after her father’s death, Tasha showed up unannounced on Ari’s doorstep, shivering and hungry, eyes wild with the kind of desperate, bone-deep fear that no fourteen-year-old should ever know.

  Of course Ari didn’t recognize her, but in her backpack, shoved in with a bunch of tattered clothes and a dog-eared romance novel the girl had found on the bus, was an envelope with Ari’s name and address. The letter inside was from their mother.

  It was full of bullshit about wanting a better life for Tasha, about how wrong she’d been to keep the sisters apart, but the truth was much
more sinister. Mom was using again, and her dickbag junkie boyfriend-of-the-month had driven Tasha to the Greyhound station in Jacksonville that morning, getting her a one-way ticket to New York. “Don’t come back,” the boyfriend warned. “You’ve upset your mother enough. Nothing left for you here.”

  “I understand if you don’t want me,” Tasha had said to Ari. “But maybe I could have a sandwich or something? Then I can figure something else out. Please—I just need to eat.”

  Ari’s life may have been fucked up, but she’d never been hungry. In that moment, it didn’t matter that Ari was born into a life of crime, that Tasha was a stranger, that her own mother was a stranger. Ari vowed right then and there that as long as she was alive, her sister would never know that kind of helpless fear again.

  Five years on, she was still doing her best to keep Tasha safe, to give her a good life.

  Unfortunately, that required a few little white lies. And a few major ones, too. About Ari’s job. Her boss. Where the money had come from.

  Where it’s still coming from.

  “The dude’s name,” Ari said now, “is already forgotten.”

  “So you did have a date! I knew it!” Tasha cocked an eyebrow, a cute little trick she’d recently mastered. “Did you get any?”

  “Nope.” Ari forged on, feigning defeat. “It sucked. Everything about the guy sucked.”

  In more ways than one…

  “Bummer,” Tasha said. “Maybe you should update your dating profile? I mean, no offense, but ‘museum consultant’ doesn’t exactly scream ‘I’m awesome and spontaneous and totally down for sexytimes.’”

  Ari rolled her eyes. She’d deleted that “profile” about fifteen minutes after Tasha set it up for her last year. Her sister’s heart was in the right place—she’d been worried about Ari after things finally crashed and burned with the documents forger, a man Tasha believed was an insurance salesman.

  But Ari couldn’t explain it to Tasha. Online dating? Even if Ari was a legitimate museum consultant, a girl with a normal job and a regular life, how could she find the kind of man she wanted through an online dating app? The kind of man who could take her to the edge, test her limits, talk dirty to her all night long, and then wake her up with soft kisses and breakfast in bed?

  Did that kind of man even exist?

  Ari loved the idea of trusting her pleasure to a strong, dominant man, but she’d learned the hard way that those men—real men, the ones who’d know how to take care of her—were few and far between. Her ex talked a good game, but when it came down to it, he preferred to demean rather than dominate. For him it was all about ego, and whenever Ari tried to express her needs, he shut her down—sometimes by withholding sex, other times with a cruel joke, or even public humiliation. The last time she’d tried to talk dirty, push the boundaries a bit, he’d called her a whore. Slapped her hard on the mouth, drawing blood and leaving one hell of a bruise.

  That was nearly a year ago. She hadn’t shared his bed since.

  Ari’s mind drifted back to the closet, back to her sexy-as-hell Brit. Last night was incredible, a forbidden rendezvous that’d left her wanting so much more. But that’s just what it was—a forbidden rendezvous. A one-time fantasy that never should have gone beyond the closet. In fact, it never should have happened in the first place.

  “Tasha,” Ari said, “I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. But I’m done dating. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “In bed?” Tasha teased.

  “Anyway,” Ari said firmly, “what about your night? How’d the English final go?”

  The word “English” sent another unbidden spark through Ari’s insides. She would’ve loved to dish details about last night’s steamy little interlude, but when it came to her “work” events, Ari had a strict need-to-know policy, and Tasha didn’t need to know. As far as Tasha was concerned, her big sister was a consultant who spent a lot of time looking at old paintings and helping people buy and sell family heirlooms. There were more than a few shades of gray in that definition, but for now, Ari needed to keep the specifics to herself.

  Specifics like how his strong, talented fingers had put her vibrator to shame…

  “Aced it,” Tasha said. “The professor thinks I might be a good candidate for his advanced literature seminar in the fall. He only takes ten students—mostly seniors—and you have to be invited to even apply. If I get in, I’ll be the first sophomore ever admitted.”

  “Tasha, that’s amazing!” Ari beamed. She was so proud of her sister. Tasha’s education—her entire future—was the reason Ari did what she did, and nothing made her happier than hearing about her sister’s hard-earned achievements. Despite a rocky childhood, Tasha had worked her ass off in high school, earning a scholarship to Hunter College in the city, which she supplemented with a coffee shop gig to cover the extras. She was even taking classes in the summer, trying to get some of her basic coursework done early while she figured out what she wanted to study.

  Ari might not have had the opportunity to go to college, to follow a path of her own choosing, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t give that to her sister. Tasha was the best thing in her life, and she deserved the world. There was nothing Ari wouldn’t do to protect her little sister. To make her happy.

  “This calls for a celebration,” Ari said, already rummaging through the cupboards.

  “But I didn’t get in yet! I won’t know until the end of summer.”

  “You’ll get in. I know it.” Ari pulled out the flour, sugar, and a bag of chocolate chips. “Banana chocolate chip pancakes sound okay?”

  “Uh, yeah? But what about work?” Tasha asked.

  Ari shrugged. “I can go in later.”

  “We should’ve planned this better! I’m on the lunch shift at Perk,” Tasha said, reaching for her cell. “Lemme see if I can get Darcy to switch—she owes me.”

  “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got a lunch thing anyway.”

  Tasha’s smile slipped. “Oh. No problem.”

  Ari hated that she’d put that disappointed look in her sister’s eyes, but she understood all too well where it had come from. Between Tasha’s classes and Ari’s crazy job, the girls had barely shared a meal all month, let alone spent any quality time together.

  “Hey,” Ari said. “I can’t get out of lunch, but why don’t we go out tonight, just the two of us?”

  Tasha brightened. “For real?”

  “Definitely. We’ll grab dinner somewhere, maybe see a movie?”

  “Let’s go to Bryant Park!” Tasha said, bouncing on her toes. “They’re showing Sleepless in Seattle tonight. We can do a Shake Shack picnic.”

  Ari dumped the chocolate chips into a bowl, her anxiety about Davidson melting away. After all the craziness last night, a picnic and outdoor movie with her sister was exactly the kind of chill girls’ night out Ari needed. “Brilliant. I’m in.”

  Tasha hugged her from behind as she leaned in to steal a chocolate chip. “What did I do to deserve you?”

  Ari smiled.

  You showed up, she thought. And you stayed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THAT FUCKING CLOSET was going to haunt him for the rest of his retched life.

  Jared couldn’t even hang up his suit coat in his office this morning without his dick getting hard—a situation that would become problematic if he didn’t do something about it.

  Like find that woman and bring her home for the night, tie her to the bed, and show her exactly what she’s been missing out on her whole life.

  Jared sighed. He was the one missing out. Last night he’d let her walk away without a fight, and now he’d probably never see her again.

  Maybe it was for the best.

  Behind those seductive hazel eyes, that woman was a deep vault of secrets. Nothing about her was innocent, and with everything else going on in his life right now, Jared didn’t need that kind of trouble.

  But God, how I want it…

  Sipping his
coffee, Jared stood before his fortieth-floor office windows and took in the view, a vast sea of skyscrapers that stretched from his building in Tribeca up to the northern edge of Manhattan. In the distance, the top of the Chrysler Building gleamed beneath a gorgeous sapphire-blue sky, making it nearly impossible for his foul mood to linger.

  At least she didn’t walk away with the Whitfield.

  “Rough night, mate?” Evan Drake, Jared’s business partner and best friend, barged into his office with the usual lack of decorum. “You look like hell.”

  “And you look like someone who thinks he can show up without an appointment.”

  “So rude, right?” Evan made himself at home, kicking back in Jared’s leather executive chair. “Yet you never make good on those threats to fire me.”

  Jared scrubbed a hand over his face. “Bit of a long night, is all.”

  Long was an understatement. Trouble or not, the woman from the auction had gotten to him. Badly. No matter how many cold showers and stiff drinks later, he couldn’t get her out of his system. Even a morning run around lower Manhattan couldn’t clear his head. The feel of her velvety skin, the sounds she’d made as she writhed in his arms, the taste of her still lingering on his lips… He’d taken charge of her pleasure. Commanded her, just like she’d wanted. But everything about her had invaded his senses, and now he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

  The memories of their rendezvous made his cock strain against his pants.

  “What’s her name?” Evan asked. When Jared didn’t respond, Evan laughed. “I’ve known you since your first wank, Blackwell. You think I don’t recognize your morning-after look? Must’ve been one hell of a row.”

  “Stop talking,” Jared said, “unless you’re looking for a severance package.”

  Evan laughed again. “You know I’m right.”

  Of course he was right. They’d grown up together in Bristol; their families had been chums for a century. When Jared finished business school in New York and told Evan about his plans, Evan didn’t ask questions. He simply booked the next flight from Heathrow to JFK.