Ice Blue - Anne Stuart [3]
“She wants to see you tonight. I cannot ignore my duty in reuniting an estranged mother and daughter.” There was only the hint of an edge beneath his rich, sonorous voice. It was no wonder he managed to mesmerize thousands. But Summer Hawthorne was not easily mesmerized by slimy old men.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m busy.” And before he could say another word she turned away, heading toward the dubious safety of the caterers, hiding behind them as the Shirosama made his slow, gliding way toward the exit, surrounded by his entourage.
She was tempted to start scooping up champagne glasses and taking them out to the kitchen area, anything to keep busy, but they had an army of waiters to handle that, and it would have looked odd. The museum guests had gone, including the tall man and his bimbo, and Summer no longer had that peculiar feeling in the middle of her shoulder blades. Now it was in the pit of her stomach, and she knew exactly who had been watching her with thinly veiled animosity. The Shirosama.
The caterers were damnably efficient, whisking everything away in record time, leaving Summer alone in the building a good half hour before the night security force was due to arrive. The reception had ended early, but the alarm system at the Sansone was excellent, and Summer had no concern for the safety of the priceless works of art. No concern for the ceramic jar that Hana-san had left in her care. The Shirosama knew where it was, and no one was going to be breaking into her house again and bothering her when they knew the bowl wasn’t there. It had been a preemptive strike, putting the treasure on display, and a good one.
She switched off the last of the lights, turning on the alarm system with its infrared beams and heat sensors. Then kicking off the high heels she’d forced herself to wear, she padded barefoot through the vast, marble hallway of the faux Grecian villa that encompassed the front entryway. The moon was out, a thick crescent hanging over the mountains, and even with the light from the endless city around them it shone clear and bright. She stared up at it for a moment, breathing in the serene beauty. The day had been long and stressful, but it was almost over. All she had to do was climb into her old Volvo station wagon and drive home, where she could strip off her clothes, drink a glass of wine and soak in the wooden tub that had been her one extravagance.
Suddenly she wasn’t alone. She could feel the eyes on her again, watching her, the intensity like a physical pull. She glanced around, as casually as she could, but there was no one in sight. The landscaping at the Sansone provided ample places to hide and watch—someone could be in the eighteenth century gazebo in the midst of the formal gardens on the right, or hiding behind the shrubbery on the left. She’d parked her car at the far end of the lot to leave room for the guests, and it was hidden in the shadows of overhanging trees. For a brief, cowardly moment she considered heading back into the museum, waiting until the security guards arrived.
But she was worn-out, and decided her imagination must be playing tricks on her. She’d been sleeping at Micah’s since her house had been broken into, but the last thing she wanted to do was intrude on her best friend’s newly resurrected love life. Besides, she missed her own bed.
The guards would be there soon enough, and if an army of cat burglars decided to show up there wasn’t much she could do about it. If she waited that long she’d probably fall asleep at the wheel. No, she was being absurd, paranoid. No one was out to get her, not even the greedy Shirosama. He didn’t want her. He wanted the bowl, though she had no idea why.
She started walking down the drive, the tiny white bits of gravel sharp under her bare soles, and she cursed beneath her breath. Nothing would make her cram her feet back into the high heels, but maybe she’d see if she could talk the board of directors into paving the