Free Her 24-Hour Protector by Loreth Anne White

and Rothchilds it could go to the heart of motive for murder. At this point, Lex wasn’t ruling anything out.
    He also wanted to press Harold again about the provenance of The Tears of the Quetzal. Lex was convinced the man was not coming clean on the history of the diamond for some reason.
    Hot wind gusted, crackling through the ragged palm fronds as the big door to the mansion swung open wide. And there stood the one person he was seeking to avoid, wearing nothing but a scrap of bikini the colors of a Tequila Sunset, and just as damn intoxicating as a shot of the liquor to his system. The sight of her clean took his breath away.
    “Jenna. I was…expecting your butler.”
    Jenna’s lips curved, but no light reached into her eyes. “I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, Lex.”
    His eyes skimmed hungrily over her—couldn’t help it. She was wearing crazy high heels that put a killer curve into her calves, seductive arches into her feet and a powerful punch to his gut. In her navel, a small little emerald green jewel winked. It took an embarrassing moment before he could wrench his attention away from it. He cursed softly to himself as the latent tension from last night’s date quickly began to shimmer between them again.
    “I presume you’re here to apologize?” she asked.
    He cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m here on business. I understand your father is in?”
    Her mouth flattened slightly, some of the glimmer leaving her. “Fine.” She stepped back, holding the door open but not far back enough so he didn’t have to brush against her barely covered chest as he entered.
    “Harold is out by the pool. Go through the hall and then through the wet bar over there,” she said coolly, with a tilt of her chin.
    It wasn’t the first time Lex had been inside the Rothchild lair, but again, he couldn’t help musing his entire house would pretty much fit inside just the hall alone. He started to make his way over the gleaming tiles but paused. “Look, Jenna,” he said, swinging around. Mistake.
    She was too close.
    His brain headed completely south, and she could see it. A whisper of amusement toyed briefly with her mouth. Yet a hint of insecurity remained in her eyes. An insecurity that wasn’t apparent last night.
    He’d put it there.
    Again, guilt twisted.
    He cleared his throat again. “I am sorry about last night. I…I want to say thank you for all the trouble you went to, with the dinner, the restaurant, your very generous contribution to a charity I—”
    “It was my pleasure, Lex.” But no pleasure showed in her features. “I just wish…” Her voice faded slightly. “Sorry it was such torture for you.”
    Oh, boy, she didn’t know the half of it. He ran his hand overhis hair, feeling sweat prickle along his scalp, and was thankfully saved by the appearance of the Rothchild butler.
    “Ah, Clive,” Jenna said, clearly relieved herself. “Special Agent Lexington Duncan is here to see Harold. Can you please show him to the pool?”
     
    Harold Rothchild had movie-star good looks, thought Lex as he shook the flamboyant casino mogul’s hand and took a seat on the designer rattan furniture in the shade on the pool deck. It was cooler by the water, a sparkling oasis surrounded by palms, thick-leaved shrubs, carefully tended blooms of exotic color and scent. A sprinkler shot staccato arcs over the greenery.
    “Nice out here,” Lex said.
    “I like working by the pool,” Harold answered dryly, taking a seat himself. “So, a personal visit? Must be important. What can I do for you Special Agent Duncan?”
    Lex cut to the point. “What can you tell me about the provenance of The Tears of the Quetzal?”
    Harold sat back with a deep sigh. “We’ve been through this.”
    “I thought maybe your memory might have been jogged since the last time we spoke.”
    He studied Lex for a long moment. “It hasn’t. I can’t add anything to what I mentioned to the FBI before. The Tears of the