After a parting smile, Jillian hurried through the hallways and took the elevator down to the lobby. Behind the security desk, Phil was ever vigilant as he kept a close eye on the security monitors.

  “Off to lunch?” he asked.

  “I’ll see you later.” She waved goodbye.

  “Don’t forget to take an umbrella, it looks like we might get some rain this afternoon.”

  “I’ve got one in the car.”

  Phil raised his hand and waved her out. “See you later.”

  By the time she reached the door, she hesitated, reluctant to leave. Denise, Phil, the other employees, they had no knowledge of the danger coming. Her mailman, and millions of other people she didn’t even know, they were the reason she had to see this through to the end. She put on her sunglasses then pushed the door open and went outside.

  The autumn sun was bright and warmed her face while off in the distance dark, ominous clouds crowded the blue sky. She always loved the musty, earthy smell that came right before a big rain, which they were sure to get.

  Descending the front stairs she spotted Mr. Smith and his red Corvette parked in the space next to her silver Mercedes. Hands tucked in his pant pockets, he leaned against his car while he waited for her to cross the parking lot.

  “What did you find at Jonathon’s?” she asked, walking right up to him.

  “I’ll tell you at lunch.” He pushed away from his car and opened the driver’s side door.

  She lifted her sunglasses up on her head and fixed him with a puzzled stare. “Why can’t you tell me here?”

  Did everything have to be a mystery? She had a lot more invested in this than he did, would it be so hard to clue her in to what was going on? They were supposed to be partners.

  “It isn’t safe here,” he replied, his voice calm.

  As soon as he’d said it, Jonathon drove through the parking lot in his black sedan, slowing down when he saw the two of them together. He stared out the window, his face twisted into a dark scowl as he slowly drove by, and then pulled out onto the street.

  Jillian shivered, but not from cold, becoming more uncomfortable by the second. She was suddenly anxious to get out of there.

  “Where are we having lunch?”

  “At my house.” Mr. Smith slid down into the driver’s seat of his car. “Follow me.”

  He closed the door and the loud engine roared to life. When he glanced out the window, he broke into an easy grin, then winked, before pulling away.

  Warmth infused her and she remembered the heavy feel of his hands on her body, the warm pressure of his mouth as he kissed her over and over.

  She rushed to get into her car and follow him, but once they pulled out of the parking lot and traffic opened up he drove like a bandit, passing cars and running traffic lights. Well, technically the light had been yellow, but Jillian always stopped for yellow lights. Better to be safe than dead.

  She lost him in a matter of minutes.

  Had he no respect for traffic laws or the rules of safety? And she didn’t recall seeing him put on his seatbelt. It felt silly to worry about something as menial as seatbelts with the world possibly coming to an end, but she’d survived a horrific car crash, and two unfortunate accidents had robbed her of everyone she’d ever loved, leaving her completely alone in the world. Needless to say cars made her extremely nervous.

  Especially with the way he drove.

  Still, his fearlessness was addictive, and she let it fuel her with a daring resolve of her own. The plan was in motion. It wasn’t too late to make things right. All she had to do was have sex with the most interesting, handsome man she’d ever met, then wait until his back was turned so she could rob him and make her get away without being noticed.

  No problem.

  Chapter 16

  A three course lunch was served among the green plants and aromatic flowers in the solarium. The menu consisted of garlic oysters on the half shell with fresh lemon, pepper-crusted petite filet and grilled artichoke, paired with a light, dry Rose. Another reason Kyriel held on to James was his gift for great cooking. The old guy had technique, flair, and Jillian appeared to be enjoying herself immensely.

  With the rain pouring down outside, she questioned James about his home in England, and he welcomed her to visit anytime. She complimented him on the tasty meal, taking small, savory bites, and then gushed over the decadent chocolate mousse and champagne dessert.

  It was all part of the seduction.

  The car, the house, the classically trained butler. Kyriel had designed his life to be a literal feast for the senses. Being human was pleasurable, provided you had the little luxuries. Some might not approve of his ways, they weren’t always legal, but that was the beauty of free will. Angels didn’t have the same freedoms but, as a fallen angel, he had more than he knew what to do with and he’d spent enough time on Earth to become accustomed to a certain lifestyle.

  A very lavish one in which he did as he pleased.

  Jillian took the last bite of her chocolate mousse. Kyriel watched her full, pink lips close around the fork, and lust stirred his loins, making his already throbbing erection grow painfully hard. He wanted to take her right on the table, make his own dessert of her soft flesh and tender, feminine body. When she closed her eyes while savoring the sweet dessert, he fought the strong urge to pull her into his lap.

  She put the fork down on her empty plate and followed the dessert with a dainty sip of champagne.

  “That was amazing.”

  “I’m glad you approve of the meal, Ms. Whitmore.”

  “Please, call me Jillian.”

  “I’d love to.” He leaned back in the chair and clasped his hands together. “It’s beautiful.”

  A pretty blush colored her cheeks, and she asked, “Does that mean I can call you Winston now?”

  Kyriel sighed.

  What was the issue with his name?

  It wasn’t even his name. He had a long-standing tradition of taking the first name of his previous butler after the regular human identity change he was required to do every sixty to seventy years. Unless the butler learned of his true identity earlier. In that case, he usually swiped their mind of any memory they had of him, with the help of a more powerful friend, then changed identities.

  “Call me Smith if we must do away with formality.”

  “You don’t like the name Winston, do you?”

  “Not especially.”

  She placed her champagne glass back on the table. “Are you going to tell me what you found at Jonathon’s house?”

  He’d been putting it off because he couldn’t tell her what he’d found in that cabinet. The fact that Jonathon had all those pictures of her would only cause her to worry and, since Kyriel intended to keep her safe and away from Jonathon, he didn’t feel the need to tell her exactly what he’d discovered.

  “I didn’t find anything.”

  By her serious expression, she didn’t believe him. “You’ve just been stringing me along all this time?”

  “If he has the other two rings, they aren’t in his house.”

  “And you didn’t find anything else? No clues, no leads?”

  Kyriel sat forward in his chair so he could look into her eyes and persuade her to let the conversation end. “Nothing.”

  He pushed into her mind, and didn’t get very far.

  Releasing a heavy sigh, she reached for her champagne glass and finished the last of her drink. “What are we supposed to do next?”

  “Stay away from Jonathon,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Stay away from the museum.”

  “But I can’t.” She shook her head. “The opening is tomorrow night. I have to be there.”

  “What’s more important to you, the museum, or your life?”

  Her eyes widened in alarm. “The museum is my life.”

  Kyriel didn’t know how else to convince her, and simply said, “If you’re not careful, you may no longer have a life.”

  She frowned and set the empty champagne glass on the table.

  “Why do you care?” Her eyes flipped up to his, full of confusion. “Why are you helping me? Why should I trust you?”

  All good questions. None he wanted to answer. His motivation stemmed from purely selfish reasons. He wanted the ring; he had it. He wanted to sleep with her; he would.

  But he was afraid it went deeper than that. He felt something for Jillian he couldn’t yet identify, or didn’t want to. He tried to ignore the fierce, primal instinct she’d awakened in him, but it wouldn’t go away. His attraction to Jillian went beyond anything he’d felt for a woman before. He liked having her close. He thought about having sex with her constantly and couldn’t concentrate on much else. The distraction had him eager to fuck her so he could regain his focus.

  “I don’t want to see anything happen to you,” he answered honestly. “There are strong forces at work here, and you wouldn’t stand a chance against them alone.”

  “How altruistic,” she chided, her green eyes hardening. “Is this just something you do with your free time? Help the damsel in distress?”

  “If she needs it.”

  “Are you some kind of soldier, or a secret agent?” She propped her elbow on the table and leaned towards him, whispering, “Are you a spy?”

  “No.” Kyriel toyed with the round base of his empty champagne glass, swirling it in circles on the white tablecloth.

  Normally it wasn’t difficult to keep his true identity a secret, but with Jillian he felt compelled to tell her everything, to tell her the truth.

  What a bind he was in. He wanted her. Maybe too much.

  ***

  “Do you work as a bodyguard, or private security?” Jillian wondered. “Maybe you’re a private investigator.”

  She couldn’t figure Smith out. He was a mystery. One she wanted to solve. With his propensity for vagueness and his one-word answers, she didn’t see herself getting very far.

  “I’m none of those things.” He laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the table, looking at her in expectation of the next question.

  “A lawyer?” She knew that wasn’t it.

  He wasn’t uptight enough to be a lawyer.

  “I see what this is,” he said. “You’re wondering where I got my money.”

  She hated to admit it, but she did. “Well, yeah.”

  “I could tell you I won the lottery, or that I got lucky on Wall Street, or inherited from a rich uncle. Would it matter?”

  “What if you’re an art thief, or a contract killer? Then it would matter.”

  He chuckled, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I’m not hired to kill you, and I don’t want to steal any of your art. I’m someone who knows about the rings and has the power to help you. I don’t think you’ll get a better offer anywhere else.”

  Neither did she. Certainly not one that looked as good as he did. All she could think about was kissing him again. Today, she planned to give him more than a kiss, but it had been so long since she’d had sex, she didn’t know how to get the fire started.

  She could wait for him to make the first move. It probably wouldn’t take long.

  “How do you know about the rings?” she asked.

  Her grandfather told her the identities of the Keepers were supposed to be a secret, and Smith had never mentioned how he’d learned she held one of the rings.

  “There are things you’re better off not knowing.”

  Typical Smith answer.

  Which was no answer at all.

  “Can you look me in the eye and assure me that this isn’t all some kind of a scam?”

  His blue eyes caught and held hers. “You wouldn’t be sitting in my home having lunch if that were the case.”

  Mysterious as he could be, she believed him, but she still didn’t fully trust him.

  “Now, on a more enjoyable note, how did you like the gift?” A wicked smile crossed his handsome face. “Did it fit?”

  Heat bloomed in her breast and her mouth went dry, making it hard for her to swallow. There was no question he wanted to see her wearing the sexy lingerie. “How did you know my size?”

  “I took a good guess.” His gaze lowered to her chest.

  Jillian swore she could feel him undressing her in his mind and she shivered in anticipation of what was to come. She had no doubt that sex with him would be amazing.

  Incredible.

  Fantastic.

  Could she handle his intensity?

  “I’ll have to try it on later,” she said, finding it hard to breathe.

  “And here I’ve been fantasizing over lunch what it looked like underneath that skirt and blouse. All I’ve been able to think about is getting you out of those clothes and into my hands.”

  Desire shot through her, pulsing and hot. What would he feel like skin to skin? She wanted him to touch her, wanted to feel his hands on her body, and she sat forward in her chair.

  “Do I have to be wearing sexy black underwear?”

  “No,” he said, his eyes shining with hunger.

  He grasped her arms and stood, drawing her up with him, then slanted his head and seized her lips in a passionate kiss. Jillian draped her arms around his neck and heard herself moan as he parted his lips and deepened the kiss, his tongue filling her mouth.

  Hot, eager, demanding, he kissed her in a way that made her bones melt. She barely noticed when he moved his hands to grasp her hips and set her on top of the table.

  He trailed a line of gentle kisses along her neck, causing a delightful shiver to race over her skin. At the same time, he untucked her blouse from the waist of her skirt and slid his hand underneath to cup her breast in his large palm.

  Fast as he was moving things along, they were going to have sex right on the table, before she learned where to find the ring. She opened her mouth to say something and he kissed her again, his hand massaging her breast in the most arousing way. God, he was good. She never wanted him to stop.

  What about the ring?

  With some effort, Jillian regained her focus.

  “What about James?” she asked, pulling away. “Won’t he come in here?”

  “He knows when I want privacy.” His lips recaptured hers, more demanding this time.

  Jillian wanted to let go and give in to the ravishment of his kiss, and the pleasure that promised to follow, but a disturbing thought troubled her and she couldn’t let it go.

  How many other women had he taken through this seduction?

  She tilted her head back while his warm, moist mouth licked and sucked her neck, causing her every nerve ending to tingle and come alive. Through the glass ceiling, the sky was gray and a heavy rain poured down. She didn’t protest when his fingers sought the buttons of her blouse, but a strange insecurity filled her, and she stopped him half way down the line.

  “What’s wrong?” he murmured against her neck, his other hand sliding up her outer thigh and under her skirt.

  She clamped her hand over his beneath her skirt to stop the exploration. “You seem so practiced at this, I can’t help thinking how many other women you’ve brought here for lunch.”

  She quickly chastised herself for feeling jealous of his past lovers, considering she intended to use sex as a way to distract him long enough for her to take the ring and run. In spite of her devious plan, she didn’t want to be counted among the other women he’d so easily seduced, left and forgotten.

  She wanted more.

  Smith flattened his hands on top of the table and he studied her intently for a moment.

  “I have brought other women here,” he admitted. “But none like you.”

  Jillian practically melted. God, but the man could be convincing. How did he always know how to say the right thing? She had to stop worrying herself with it and remember what she was there to do.

  “Where is my ring?” she asked, sliding back away from him on the table.

  His expression grew hard, serious. “It’s somewhere safe.”

  “I want to see it.”

  A frown set into his features. “Why?”

  “How do I know you still have it, or that you aren’t stringing me along?”

  “You should have thought of that before.”

  “You didn’t give me the chance.”

  “And what if I show it to you?” he asked, lifting his chin. “Will that put your mind at ease?”

  To take the ring, she first had to know where it was hidden. “Yes, it will.”

  He pushed away from the table. “Then follow me.”

  Chapter 17

  There was no mistaking the covetous gleam in her eyes. Kyriel had seen the look many times throughout the centuries. Show a person the ring, and they quickly became enamored by the mystical power it held. At the start of his task he’d thought it was crazy to leave the humans in charge of the rings, but he’d learned angels were just as fallible.

  Kyriel thought Jillian might be different. That her mind was strong enough to fight the temptation the same way she fought his persuasion, but it was clear she wanted to possess the ring.

  “Are you satisfied?” he asked.

  They stood at his desk in the upstairs library. Behind him, the wall safe hung open, stocked with cash and other valuables. Jillian didn’t give the contents of the safe a second glance. Her focus was centered on the ring in his hand.

  “Are you sure the safe is the best place to keep it?” she questioned, doubt in her voice.

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “People break into safes all the time.”

  “Not my safe,” he assured. “It’s custom made to be impenetrable.”

  The glass plate re-locking system was unlike any other on the market. If someone wanted to get the safe open, they would have a very hard time cracking it. Not many people had the necessary skills.

  “Maybe you should let me have the ring back,” Jillian suggested. “Since Jonathon thinks you have it, he won’t be coming after me any longer.”

  Kyriel couldn’t tell her why that reasoning was flawed.

  “He may not be the only person looking for the ring. I think it’s safest here.”

  He put the ring in the safe and closed and locked the door, then lifted the painting of DaVinci’s Last Supper from where it rested against the wall and re-hung it to cover the safe. The painting was the best replica of the original mural he’d ever found. Painted by a fallen angel, no less. The irony added to its beauty.