Always a Thief - Kay Hooper [31]
Propping an elbow on the vanity as she watched her friend, Storm said, “I guess the manufacturers never tested it against passionate cat burglars.”
“How did you know who he was? I mean—” Morgan stopped herself with a sigh as she realized. “Wolfe, of course.” Since Storm was engaged to Wolfe Nickerson, there were likely few secrets between them.
“Of course. He introduced us just before you got waltzed out onto the terrace. So your Quinn is Alexander Brandon, huh?”
“So he says.” Having done what she could with her hair, Morgan used a tissue and Storm's lipstick to repair the rest of the damage to her pride.
“And he's gone public, so to speak. It's an interesting ploy, I admit, especially if he's so sure the thief he's after also wears a blameless public face.”
Morgan returned the lipstick and, very carefully, said, “Tell me something, friend. Is there anybody who doesn't know what Quinn's up to?”
“Outside our own little circle, I certainly hope so.” Storm smiled slightly. “Wolfe said you'd probably hit me with something when I told you just how much I do know, but I'm counting on your sweet disposition.”
“Oh, yeah? I wouldn't count on that if I were you. I'm not in a real good mood right now.”
Solemnly, Storm said, “Then I'll have to risk your wrath, I suppose.”
“Just spit it out, will you?”
“I don't really work for Ace Security,” Storm told her in that solemn voice. “I'm with Interpol.”
Morgan didn't have to look in the mirror to know her mouth had fallen open in shock. “Interpol? Like Jared?”
“Uh-huh. He's more or less my boss, at least on this assignment. I hope this room isn't bugged,” she added thoughtfully, glancing around.
“Why would it be bugged?”
“No reason I can think of.” Apologetically, Storm added, “They teach us to be paranoid.”
Morgan was torn between fascination and irritation; fascination because her rather ordinary world had grown in the last few months to include internationally famous cat burglars and Interpol agents, and irritated because those around her had taken their own sweet time letting her in on their plans.
Amused, Storm said, “Don't blow up, now. If it makes you feel any better, I didn't know Quinn was in on this until just before he was shot, and I had no idea that all the guys knew him.”
Suddenly curious, Morgan said, “Quinn told me that Max and Wolfe didn't know about his burgling until recently. Did Wolfe tell you how he found out?”
“Umm. Caught him with his hand in a safe in London about a year ago.”
Morgan winced. “That must have been quite an encounter.”
“The word Wolfe used was tense.”
“I can imagine.” Morgan sighed. “I wonder how Max found out.”
“No idea. And Jared's so furious on the subject I haven't dared ask him. Can't really blame him, I suppose. Nice thing, for an international cop to find out his own brother's an international thief. A bit awkward.”
“To say the least,” Morgan murmured, remembering how Jared had told her not to “get any fool romantic notions about nobility” into her head concerning Quinn's current association with Interpol.
“A bit awkward for you too,” Storm said quietly.
Awkward? Morgan considered the word and found that her friend had picked a good one.
As the director of the exhibit of an utterly priceless collection of gems and artworks that had just gone on public display, Morgan had access to something that any thief would have sold more than his soul to possess. Any thief.
It was easy enough to say the collection was safe from Quinn, that he was walking the straight and narrow now, bound to help catch a thief he clearly despised. Easy enough to let his charm sway her, his desire ignite hers. Easy enough to gaze into his beguiling green eyes and convince herself that she saw something in him the world would find surprising—if not downright inconceivable.
Easy enough to tell herself she wasn't a fool.
Morgan looked at her reflection in the mirror, seeing a woman who was once again elegant but whose lips still