Free Flirting With Danger by Suzanne Enoch

daylight.
    “I’ll give you a tour later, if you’d like.”
    “You’re not her damned host, Rick,” Tom whispered, as they followed her to the front door. “You’re a target. And you may think she’s cute, but I don’t trust her. She’s been here twice already. Uninvited.”
    “And now she’s invited. Back off, Tom. I’ll meet you in my office in a few minutes. Get William Benton on the phone for me.”
    “Benton? You—”
    “Tom.”
    “Yes, sahib.” Donner strode through the foyer and up the stairs, sending a last glare at Samantha. She didn’t seem to notice, because she was busy running her fingers over the vase on the front table.
    “Why would you keep a fifteen-hundred-year-old vase so close to the front door? Don’t you get hurricanes here, or do your gates keep those out, too?”
    “It’s—”
    Frowning, she leaned closer to study the pattern, tapping the rim with the tip of a fingernail. “Oh. You own fakes?”
    “I thought it was pretty,” he said, grinning and impressed. It had taken Danté nearly an hour to figure it out. “And it was a replica, for a fund-raiser. How much do you know about art?”
    “I can recite the best seller list, but I prefer antiques. What kind of staff do you have here?”
    “Don’t thieves know that sort of thing before they break in?”
    “ You weren’t supposed to be here. Your staff while you’re not in Florida is six during the day and two at night, plus hired security, and a room where your art acquisitions manager stays sometimes when you keep him here working late. I don’t know who shows up when you’re in residence.”
    “A dozen or so full-time staff,” he supplied, “though I haven’t called most of them back yet. The police thought Ishould keep personnel to a minimum, and I don’t want to endanger anyone.”
    “Makes sense. Do you have a butler?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is his name Jeeves?”
    Rick gave an appreciative smile. He was rapidly discovering that the charm he’d seen in her was part of her character. She’d obviously figured out how to use it to her advantage, but he couldn’t help enjoying it. At the same time, he wouldn’t forget how good she was at this. “Sykes. He is British, though, if that makes you feel better.”
    “So they travel the world with you, going from house to house?”
    As she spoke, she wandered out of the foyer and into the downstairs sitting room. Several antique pieces of furniture housed various figurines and china plates, and Richard followed her to lean against the doorframe. She seemed a little more at ease with Tom absent; given her occupation, he could see why she wouldn’t like lawyers. Again she ran her fingers along the fine-grained wood of the seventeenth-century writing desk, as though she had to touch it to judge its value.
    The sensuality of her hands kept distracting him. But this wasn’t a bloody date; it was a murder investigation. He drew a slow breath, watching the fluid grace of her movements. Damn, she was mesmerizing.
    “Do they?”
    Richard blinked. “Beg pardon?”
    “The servants, Addison. Do they follow you around?”
    He cleared his throat. “Some of them do. Most, like Sykes, I keep on salary at a particular house year-round. He stays in Devon at my estate. There’s a lot to maintain whether I’m there or not, and some of them have families and don’t want to move around. Why?”
    “Call me suspicious.”
    “Of my staff?”
    “Don’t tell me the police didn’t ask you any of this,” shesaid, glancing over her shoulder at him before moving on to the china cabinet.
    “They did. None of my staff anywhere matched your description, however, and they remain focused on finding you.”
    She sighed. “That figures. For my edification, then, how many of your staff knew you were coming back to Florida early?”
    “Just the flight crew, my driver Ben, and the housekeeper Reinaldo. I was staying at a hotel in Stuttgart, so I didn’t have to inform anyone there where I