Nothing was left unexplored. No square inch of any room left untouched. Their search was thorough and lengthy-and companionable. The earlier personal strain between them had ebbed in view of the more pressing matter at hand. However, Josh had no intention of letting Paige conveniently dismiss what had happened the night before. Had no intention of letting her forget how simple need had evolved into desire and passion.
Last night had changed so much between them. Paige needed time to sort out her feelings, to come to terms with the changes in their relationship. Josh understood that, especially after everything he’d heaped on her in the past eighteen hours.
Right now, they had a necklace to find. Later, he’d concentrate on them.
“So, Detective Marchiano, what’s the great plan if we find the necklace?”
Josh replaced a watercolor painting back on the wall, then turned and gave her a wry grin. They were in her bedroom, and three hours into the search. She stood just outside of the master bathroom, having just gone through the drawers and cupboards beneath the vanity.
“Your faith in finding the Ivanov necklace astounds me.” He moved to the bed-determinedly blocking out images of Paige so warm and willing beneath him on that mattress-and patted down the throw pillows for any foreign lumps. “Concentrate on when, not if.”
Paige stood, hands on her hips, her gaze scanning the room, scrutinizing everything with a critical eye. “I told you that I’ve gone through most of Anthony’s things, and I haven’t found anything that would indicate he had a million-dollar necklace in his possession.” Moving to the nightstand, she opened the top drawer and sorted through the contents. “I haven’t come across a receipt for a safety-deposit box, or anything else of that nature.”
“I don’t think he’d use a safety-deposit box for this.” He stripped the covers off the bed and began inspecting the mattress for any odd seams or pockets. “I don’t know that for sure, of course, but if I’d stolen the necklace I’d hide it in a way that isn’t traceable by some kind of paper trail.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him as he picked up the ceramic lamp on the nightstand and checked to make sure it hadn’t been tampered with in any way. “If there is no evidence of the necklace and its whereabouts, then how does this Carranza person know that Anthony stole it at all?”
He noted her concerned expression before heading toward the armoire against the far wall. “Good question,” he acknowledged, silently admiring the way she addressed important facts most people wouldn’t even consider. She was thinking like a detective, though he suspected she wouldn’t appreciate being enlightened as to her natural investigative instincts.
“From what we’ve learned, Anthony made the mistake of contacting a guy who fences stolen merchandise and asked him if he was interested in some diamonds and emeralds.” Opening the double doors to the armoire, he pulled out a cedar-lined drawer and found his hands immersed in a froth of silk and lace lingerie.
Damn. Heat licked through his veins, spiraling low. Quickly and efficiently he sifted through the sexy stuff that smelled as feminine as Paige. He found too much that piqued his interest, and nothing to warrant an extensive investigation of the contents of this particular drawer. He slammed it shut. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to banish the erotic images of Paige wearing a pair of those sheer panties and a matching wispy camisole.
“So, what happened?” Paige asked, jarring him out of his fantasy and effectively dousing his arousing mental vision.
He glanced over his shoulder. She slipped a hardbound book back into the nightstand and looked up at him with wide eyes full of interest. “Apparently, the fence has done business with Bridget before, and had heard about the missing Ivanov necklace. He knew he’d be rewarded for finding the jewels, not to mention stay on Carranza’s good side, and tipped Bridget off about Anthony’s inquiry.”
She raised a brow and stood. “Since there was no hard evidence that Anthony actually had the necklace, that’s pure speculation, don’t you think?”
He liked the way her mind worked, the way she didn’t settle for a pat explanation. “Yes and no,” he admitted. He took a moment to move the armoire and check the carpeting beneath, then arranged it back into place. “Bridget confronted Anthony about the inquiry, and he admitted he had the necklace and told her he’d cut her in on the deal. She’s very loyal to Carranza and didn’t go for it. When Carranza challenged him, Anthony denied everything. Carranza isn’t known for leniency or second chances.”
“No, it doesn’t seem so, does it?” She rubbed her arms through the sleeves of her turtleneck, as if experiencing a sudden chill, though the room was comfortably warm. “So what are we going to do when we find the necklace? Give it back to Carranza?”
“Hell, no.” She might be smart with investigative theories, but she was more than a little naive when it came to street intelligence. The vulnerability brought out his protective instincts, made him choose his explanation carefully. “We need the necklace as a lure. Carranza wants the Ivanov necklace, and we want him. This time, we’re going to nail him.”
She frowned. “How?”
He removed another picture from the wall, found nothing out of the ordinary, and replaced it. “Remember that portrait you had taken for Anthony on your first anniversary? You know, the one where you’re wrapped in that white fur?”
His question surprised her, and her answer came hesitantly. “Yes, I remember.”
And there was no way he could ever forget it. When Anthony had shown him a wallet-sized replica of that 16 x 20 portrait, Josh had been stunned by the transformation in Paige. Gone was the beautiful, conservative woman, and in her place was a seductive vixen. It had been one of those sexy, sensual portraits, soft and unfocused, like something straight out of a man’s fondest fantasy. She’d been posed on her side, with a white fur wrap draped strategically along her sleek curves. One hand held the fur to her breasts, displaying a hint of cleavage and leaving her shoulders bare. One long leg slipped out of the folds so it appeared she wore nothing at all beneath the fur covering. Her thick, dark hair was tousled enticingly around her face, and she was looking into the camera with a provocative smile that promised endless pleasures.
Yeah, the portrait was perfect for what he had in mind. “Where is it?”
“I packed it away.”
“You need to unpack it.”
Judging by the wariness turning her eyes a deep shade of green, she wasn’t too thrilled with the direction of their conversation. “Why?”
“The department has commissioned an artist to paint your portrait and add the Ivanov necklace. That picture would be perfect to use.”
“I’d hardly think so,” she argued. “Josh, the only thing I’m wearing in that picture is a white fur wrap!”
“Which will offset the necklace beautifully,” he reasoned. “Once the portrait is done, which should take about a week, we’ll hang it in your office at the Wild Rose.”
Her jaw literally fell open, and she looked at him as if he were a few rounds short of a full clip. “Why in the world would I hang a portrait of myself? And one that’s so…”
“Sexy?” he offered.
“Yes!”
She looked so indignant, he couldn’t stop the grin tugging the corner of his mouth. “Because that’s the kind of woman you’ve been portrayed as, someone who’s pampered and a little pretentious. And you are sexy, Paige,” he said. Then he added in a soft, meaningful tone, “Besides, you would have to hang a portrait that was a gift from your lover, wouldn’t you?”
She fingered the high collar of her turtleneck, where a becoming shade of pink was slowly rising. “Don’t you think this is taking things too far?”
“Nope.” He headed toward the walk-in closet, the last place they needed to search. She followed at a discreet distance. “Once the picture is up, our plant will tell Carranza that he’s heard about the portrait in which you’re wearing the necklace. That’s all it will take for Carranza to pay you a visit.”