“We’ll walk around to the front, and go through the door like normal people if you don’t mind,” I said taking Beth’s hand and leading her off through the darkness.
“Mark,” Beth said when we got some distance away, “Do you think she’s right and Gerard was involved somehow with the theft?” I stopped walking and faced her. We were standing under a tree filled with lights, so I could see her expression and she looked concerned.
“I don’t know and I don’t want to know. She’s a little too familiar with the floor plan to be a stranger here, and she has a key to get into the house. Something is definitely not right with that.”
“It’s just that, the painting, it looked authentic. You have to understand, if that’s really the Reynolds, it would be like finding the Rembrandt that was stolen from the Gardiner Museum.”
“All the more reason why she should go to the cops.”
“Unless she’s really in danger if she goes to the police.”
“No good can come from us getting involved in this. We don’t even know for sure this is the right painting. You looked at it from at least five feet away by flashlight.”
“So, you don’t think we should do anything?”
“No, Beth, I don’t. I don’t even know if she has a legal claim she can make. Besides, I don’t think that Braden would be thrilled about us representing his nonprofit by climbing through windows with some nutty broad, who I hooked up with once.”
“I know. I know. But it’s just not right and he shouldn’t get away with it. Even though Caitlin is annoying, and an airhead, she’s not really a bad person. I hate to see someone steal her last memento of her grandfather. And she said she would lend it to a museum. It breaks my heart to see a painting like that locked away where nobody can take pleasure in its beauty.” She looked so earnest and something stirred inside me. I got that warm feeling again, the one that made me want to hold her all night.
“And that’s why you’re different than anyone else I’ve met, because you care so much. You care about justice, and beautiful paintings, but most of all, you care about people, even annoying people who put you in embarrassing situations.”
I looked into her eyes and I all I could think of was how much I wanted to kiss her. I couldn’t resist. She was like a drug. Our lips pressed together lightly, and then I slid my arms around her waist, grabbed that gorgeous round little bottom and pulled her closer, increasing the pressure. Just like before, she gave herself to me willingly, and it was more than just hot; it was passionate, electric and utterly intoxicating. I was getting lost in the sensation, running my hands over her body, tasting champagne on her tongue, and listening to those sexy little sounds she always makes.
The clicking sound registered somewhere on the edge of my consciousness and I came crashing to Earth. I pulled away and looked around but it was hard to see in the darkness surrounding us.
“I heard a camera. Fucking paparazzi,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Come on, let’s get back to the party,” she said taking my hand, and quickly led me off toward the front of the house. The band was still playing outside, and people were still milling about, laughing and talking, wandering in and out of the mansion.
We never actually made it back inside, as we kept getting stopped by people wanting to chat. Inevitably, Gerard came over to do his duty as host and say hello. I wondered how Beth would handle it, but as usual, she was the picture of grace and class.
“Beth, tell your mother that I’m looking forward to attending the Pierce Foundation event this year,” Gerard said warmly.
“If it’s half as good as this one, it should be a huge success,” she replied. Even though she was smiling, I noticed that her voice was cooler than usual.
“Well, fill me in on the details,” he said with a smile fixed on his face.
She began describing her mother’s plans for their fundraiser, but I noticed that while he nodded as if he were listening, he seemed distracted, and he kept looking at something or someone over her right shoulder. I followed his gaze but all I saw were the journalists and photographers questioning people who were leaving. Miss Flirty and Mr. Greasy were still there, and still standing next to each other. Maybe they were from the same tabloid.
“Will you be coming to my mystery weekend as well?” he asked, still seeming distracted.
“Several of us from The Justice Project will be there,” she answered, giving him a stony look.
“You’re an attorney with Braden’s practice, Mark?” Gerard asked, now paying attention to me.
“Yes, we’ve been friends since law school,” I answered.
“Well, you and Beth make a striking couple,” he commented. “Perhaps there’ll be another Pierce family celebration soon.” He patted me on the arm and Beth and I smiled politely as if everyone on their second date wanted to hear people hint about future wedding plans. No pressure.
Eventually, he moved on to other guests, and we moved back inside. We hit the buffet line, filling plates of food and finding a place to sit, where we enjoyed some lively jazz accompaniment as we ate.
“I’m sorry about the questions and the hints. I know it’s weird for reporters to ask about wedding plans when we haven’t even had sex yet,” she said, popping a grape into her mouth. Lucky grape.
“By tomorrow that won’t be an issue anymore.” Thank you God.
“Let’s finish this and get out of here,” she said, letting out a deep breath.
“Sounds good to me,” I answered enthusiastically. I had planned this night out and I was ready to rock. “When we get to your place why don’t you grab some clothes for tomorrow and change into something more comfortable.” And more easily removable, I added mentally.
“Okay,” she said giving me a look that went straight to my dick.
“When we get back to my place, I’ll change, and then we can maybe dance? I really liked dancing with you.”
“You know, for someone without a lot of dating experience, you’re doing a really good job.”
“Good. Because I want this to be a night we’ll remember. Now we need to call Louis or I’m going to re-examine my position on fundraiser trysts, and that’s probably not a great idea.”
Chapter Eleven
Beth
Louis brought the car around, and we got into the backseat. Mark rested a hand on my leg, and traced a path much like the one I had traced at O’Malley’s. I swear that if Louis didn’t work for my father, I would have put the divider up and suggested some limo sex for real. I was dying to at least make out but I had known Louis since I was a kid. It would be like making out in front of my uncle. Thankfully, there wasn’t a lot of traffic and we were back in the city in no time. Louis dropped us off, and Mark and I went up to my apartment.