Always a Thief - Kay Hooper [33]
The appearance was, to say the least, deceptive. Morgan did quite a lot of thinking while she danced and smiled. Ever since she had faced up to a few unnerving things in the powder room, she had been thinking more seriously than she could ever remember doing in her life.
And it occurred to her at some point during the evening that the interlude with Quinn out on the terrace might have more than one explanation. Yes, he had wanted to talk to her privately, no doubt because he had to make certain she understood why he'd suddenly appeared in public. But there might have been another motive in his devious mind.
As a collector, he could be expected to visit the Mysteries Past exhibit, but it would certainly look a bit odd if he began haunting the museum—something he probably wanted to do in order to remain close to the trap's bait. However, if he made it obvious that he was drawn to the museum by something other than the lure of the Bannister collection—her, for instance—then no one would be very surprised to find him there, even frequently or at odd hours.
Morgan didn't want to accept that possibility, but it fit too logically to be denied.
The son of a bitch intended to use her.
And choosing a damp, foggy terrace as the setting for his first move had also been part of the plan. He'd been safe in starting something when and where he had. No matter how passionate the interlude had become, it was highly unlikely that anything serious would have happened; the surroundings had been too cold, far too wet, and hideously uncomfortable, as well as lacking in privacy.
He'd known they would be interrupted—could easily have arranged it beforehand with Jared, even down to the taut exchange of hostilities.
Morgan told herself that it was just speculation, there was no proof he meant to make her a part of his cover—but when he cut in neatly to take her away from the gallery owner she'd been dancing with, her suspicions grew. And they grew even more when he managed to hold her far closer than she had allowed during their first dance, so that her hands were on his shoulders and his were on her back.
“You've been ignoring me, Morgana,” he reproved, smiling down at her.
He was an intriguing, charming, conniving scoundrel, Morgan decided with a building anger that was welcome. Worse, he was a heartless thief who would steal a necklace right off a woman's neck while he kissed her—and if there was anything lower than that, she didn't know what it could be.
The anger felt so good that Morgan wrapped herself in it, and it was such strong armor that she was able to return his smile with perfect ease, undisturbed by their closeness or by the touch of his warm hands on her bare back. “Oh, since I haven't been told how well I'm supposed to know you, I thought it best. We have just met tonight, right?”
“Yes—but it must have been love at first sight,” he said soulfully.
“I see.” Morgan allowed her arms to slip up around his neck, turning the dance into something far more intimate than even he had intended. She veiled her eyes with her lashes, fixing them on his neat tie, and made her smile seductive. “You should have told me.” She thought her voice was seductive as well, but there must have been something there to give her away, because Quinn didn't buy the act.
He was silent for a moment or so while they danced, then cleared his throat and said in a matter-of-fact voice, “You're mad as hell, aren't you?”
Her lashes lifted as she met his wary eyes, and she knew her own were probably, as he'd once observed, spitting rage just like a cat's. In a silken tone, she said, “I passed mad as hell about an hour ago. You don't want to know what I am now.”
“I'm rather glad you aren't armed, I know that much,” he murmured.
She let him feel several long fingernails gently caress the sensitive nape of his neck. “Don't be too sure I'm not armed.”
“I've said it before, I know, but you look magnificent when you're angry, Morgana.” He smiled at her, this one seemingly genuine, amused—and a bit sheepish. And his deep voice was unusually sincere